Poisoned wine

Poison,
Was laced into
The first glass of sweet wine you offered me

Since then even water tastes like fire

From betrayal is born vindictiveness
And for those of us who never forget
It is akin to the demon child born of a mortal womb

You will always be the poison in my sweet wine

Pride and Prejudice

Sometimes,
you close your eyes
to shut out the whole world
Pretending,
you’re the only one in it
For a piece
of that illusory peace

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Sometimes,
you close your eyes
And leave them shut
Just to see if,
when you open them
the other person is still there

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Speakers interchanged
But the words stayed true.

Real passion

The week

What a week! she winced
Every morning waking up with a bad headache
A foul taste in her mouth and the most unpleasant feeling of all…
That the world was just the way she had left it the previous night
Improved not a whit, insurmountable problems waiting to plague her again
No respite.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The night

Evening was a haze of cigarette smoke and alcohol
Replacing the daze of screaming and insomnia
Tonight, bodies entangled
An ode to the twisted tango of her emotions all week
Yet, underneath the stupor…

Dad, how could you? Forgive me, ma, just couldn’t take it anymore so I ran away. Leave me alone!

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Morning after

She thought she might’ve been able to call them moans of passion
They were after all…moans…of passion

It was just great sex, wasn’t it?

She shrugged, unhappy realization

It never is.

A night of great passion is always followed by a hangover. It felt exactly the same as every other morning this week.

Ray of light

He looks at her from the corner of his eye
Thinking she won’t notice
Secretly hoping she will
So secret, he won’t even admit to himself

She feels his look
Like sunlight, warm on her cheeks
Her eyes stay downcast
Shielded from his blinding gaze
Warmed nevertheless by its intensity

Then it starts to rain.

Pot of gold

Her parents say that she was born talking.

Then she discovered writing
English grammar compositions
Stories and poetry
Letters and emails
Chats and instant messaging
SMSes, orkut scraps
Resumes and reports

Then she stumbled onto blogging
And anonymous posting
Even editing and deleting
And much later, private publishing

But silence is yet to be learnt.

Gold-digger

Happy birthday!

Paper rustling, excitement tinged with apprehension
Glittering, blinding.. sheer intoxication

I can’t accept this, it’s too expensive!

So what? It’s just money.

Too much of it!

It doesn’t matter, there’s plenty.

Exactly.
When it is about something else,
that matters more,
even if there’s very little of it,
I’ll be delighted to accept.

Afterglow

When we kiss, do you close your eyes?
Or are you looking over my shoulder to see if someone better comes along?

I keep my eyes open,
checking if you close your eyes!

How come you don’t trust me?

Because you don’t trust me.

How do you figure that?

Because you ask too many questions!

Turnabout isn't fair play

She picks a gob of mud and aims carefully
Splatch! It spatters down his clean (too clean she thinks) face

Then she sits back to sip her drink
But it makes her choke

Arsenic!

...she thinks in panic

And so the loquacious one is silenced

But it wasn’t fair play!!

Are her final unspoken words

Room with a view

The room has a view. An expensive view.

She says,

Take a walk in the mud. Stay out in the rain so long that you never feel clean and dry again. When you return, you won’t need to stand at the window to see the view.

He shrugs,

Too late, I already paid the rent.

Telling all

For Shreyasi, who understands what I don't say as well. And for the person this conversation happened with.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

How are things?

What things?

You know...are you dating anybody? I haven't heard you talk about any women.

I haven't liked any women.

Turn left here, it's around the corner. What were you saying?

Nothing.

It wasn't nothing. Tell all!

I said, I haven't liked any woman.

Ah.

What?

Nothing.

Really?

Well......all?

All.

Ah.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Bar-frog

Hungover on reality....
Or high on illusion?
Life is nothing more than a visit to the bar!

What’s your poison tonight, sir?

How about a cocktail of the two?

Coming up …. one average human being on the rocks.

No, hold the ice, give it to me neat..

Impossible, the ice keeps it from exploding!

Acts of little faith

Presumption and Ego came to me.

Presumption cooed,

I’ll make you happy!

Ego thundered,

I’ll make you sad!

I shrugged and said,

As you please

She only made me laugh
He just made me cry
Disappointed, I didn’t pay my fare

The failed act faded
I was left holding the used ticket to the show.

Aphrodite

She spoke to me

Not a word said
Yet her silence whispered secrets
only a true mate to my soul could know

As I contemplated her silence
She seemed to blur

I saw her speaking to another
Or was it a reflection in her mirror?
Was it me?

I stayed wondering,
Eternity only, for company

Resigned to victory

He exclaimed,

You’re a worthy opponent. A good sparring partner!

She sighed wearily,

There is more to life than verbal battles. Don’t you get tired?

He asked,

Why? Our conversations are so much fun!

She retorted,

We don’t have conversations; we have custody battles for the last word!

She won that round. But of course.

Thick as thieves

She broke the rules first. It was like taking money from the wallet of someone who’d steal from her eventually.

And he did. Wondering why she didn’t agonize over closure, the way other women did.

She’d never tell him that the story ended long ago. With the realization that they were both capable of theft.

Athena

The thrill of her chase used to be about impossible dreams in the future
And wrestling them into submission

Now that nothing’s impossible anymore,
She finds herself thinking often of the past
Conjuring visions of how life would’ve been, if it hadn’t gone the other way

Nothing spells unachievable
Like what may have been…and wasn’t.

The Ultimate game

The player sighed
All these games, all rookies
It was tiresome

Time 'twas, to play the master stroke on the ultimate game
His inspiration was fueled by the insight that,

The culmination to creation was destruction.

He swallowed and rested, satiated

His last words read,

Who did you think you were kidding? I won anyway.

As beautiful as sin

Sitting cross-legged in the dark on the balcony
Uncharacteristically, enjoying the rain outside

Late in meeting a ‘no-future’ boyfriend she wouldn’t see for a week
He’d parted with longtime girlfriend..again

It wouldn’t ever be more possible or less tempting

I’ve to leave

Try not to go

Hesitating…

Forget the first word

...............................................
Secrets cause no casualties.

Artistic temperament

I don't like you. I just find you entertaining.

People always paid her these back-handed insults. Thinking they were so subtle. And dramatic.

On reflection, she was the artist and others, always audience.
An artist makes the audience feel the inspiration. When the audience imitates the creation, they validate the artist.

The studio beckoned again.

No more games

Her monotone, drained of exasperation, drawled

I can’t handle this anymore. I think we should stop talking. No more games.

A week later, much tempted, she thought

I didn’t say I wouldn’t call him though, did I?

Then she sighed and reminded herself that word solitaire was a game too.