Semiotics

Our goodbyes aren't punctuated

 by hugs, but with an awkward 

detachment hanging midair;

You, with caution,

I, with propriety in mind.

because the air between us feels

so tense that I am conscious

of even the slightest of movements.

I laughed so much last night

when you mentioned that

I might be averse to hugs

because you don't know the half of it

and I am not sure I am willing 

to tell you; and if I sent you a poem

would it confuse you further?

Poems as prayers

Halfway through the year

and how you have changed since,

here you are now
offering poems as prayers.

All I want

All I want is to make it
till the end of this year
without breaking down.
A year in this place is getting to me
it's turning my blood toxic and
my heart all twisted up.
How awful it would be to die
not having lived much,
it makes me sick just thinking of it
I long so much for freedom,
after all these years still struggling
for it, after all these years dreaming
the same dream.
What a dread life is without
the freedom to love, to feel,
to make mistakes.
What a relief it would be
to be holding a cup of coffee
while sitting across from you.

Meeting at the coffeeshop

Our laughter lingers in the coffeeshop;
I hardly went to one before you,
Our voices mingling with so many others;
Strangers who are now
serving slices of themselves
to the human warmth of living
before death gets us all.
How absurd, how insignificant
this day might seem in retrospect
that you would drive down all
the way just to see me for the few minutes
that I could give you.
And how our lives have been rearranging
 themselves this whole time
based on random chances;
a word, a message, a smile.

Hoping that writing would hold me

My swollen heart is aching again,

it loves too easily, it sinks all too often

Sometimes life feels like a minefield

of anxieties and I think I stepped on one day.

I am always waiting for my life to start 

Today it felt like its a long time coming

And anxiety, my old friend, came back again

to sit beside me, shaking me out of

the lull of everyday life. 

Old fears came to haunt me again,

what if life is but endless hours

of dreadful mediocre conversations,

and fullfillment of duties,

mechanical loving and working?
Whatever happened to great passion?

And am I truly living life on my own terms?

Weaknesses stepped out,

looking to hold me hostage,

So here I am,

asking for small miracles,

Hoping that writing would hold me

so that I won't break into

tiny little pieces I can't glue back.

So here I am,

hoping for the strength to return

and keep me company

while I wait for the despair to subside.

Time doesn't stop for us

Time doesn't stop for us,
it accelerates and swirls
We maintain an unbearable distance
between us, for propriety's sake.
We still catch each other's glances
and smile from across the room,
always heavily aware of each other's presence
even when we aren't in each other's
line of sight; the secrets that lovers keep
And whenever evening draws to a close
my heart sinks like that time in school
when Sunday outings used to end
and there was the unmistakable
dread of the drudgery of Monday.
Our hearts sink in perfect congruity.
And you ask me if I am alright,
like you always do.
I leave with a whispered goodbye,
my heart breaking as I turn away from you;
no goodbye hugs and kisses
 for lovers like you and I.

Toothache

The first flush of desire

is akin to a toothache,

you are constantly running

your tongue over it,

fixated on the acute pain.