Poems

“Who are you? Why are you entering my house?”

“I am you,” said the intruder.

“You are me? How?”

“I am you. I fell from the sky.”

“You can’t be me. I’ve stayed in this pond for as far as I remember. I didn’t fall from a sky.”

“You will one day, and I will take your place till then.”

“I am scared.”

“I was too, but then, I met you.”

“We’ll meet again, probably never.

But we are one, forever.”

“Where am I?”

“Where you are, every day.”

“Who are you?”

“Whom you meet every day.”

“I don’t remember you.”

“I do.”

“Who are we?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you know me?”

“We’ve spent eternity together. You come to me. I stay, here. You ask me the same questions. I give you the same answers.”

“Are you bored of me?”

“No.”

“I want to stay here.”

“Stay.”

“I can’t.”

“I’ll be here when you come back.”

“I’ll remember everything you’ve said,” she said as she moved away.

“I’ll answer everything if you don’t.”

And the sea left the shore, again...

"Look at the sky," she said. I looked. I saw nothing. Dark clouds. The moon, peeking through when it could. A faint twinkle of a star. We weren't on a hill. The city lights had hid everything. I turned to tell her that there was nothing to see. But her face was turned towards the sky. It was lit as though the moon had been waiting for the chance to find her. She looked as though every star was visible only to her. As though she could see the doors to heaven. I looked at her. I found the sky in her.

"Nobody loves me!" I heard him cry into me. "Yes, I do," I wanted to shout. But I'm only a pillow. I felt his tears trickle onto me as I slowly soaked them in. Cry all you want. I'm here for you. I wish he'd hear that. I wish he knew how his chair waits all day to carry his weight. How his fan, dizzy from all the spinning, still cools him to sleep. How the little night-light keeps watch while he dreams. How everything in this house comes alive when he comes home. I wish we all could say that to him. But more than that, I wish he would say it to himself. Every morning, he leaves us for wherever it is he goes. I hope he finds the love we're unable to say.

We sat there, not having spoken for thirty minutes. "God... does she even love me?" I thought. I remembered all those years ago, when we never stopped yapping. About anything. Grass growing. Paint drying. We could talk for hours. And here we were, saying nothing. She was buried in her book, as though I didn't exist. I wanted to say something. But why should I make the first move? She should say something. I'd been sitting here for forty-five... "It's raining." She said it out of nowhere. "Oh... it is, isn't it?" She smiled, and went back to her book. I didn't want to say anything either. I felt loved.

I want you to speak softly. Softer than a summer rain. So soft, that I get a reason to sit closer to you, my ear to your lips hearing your silence amongst your words.

74 meganewtons. The force of a rocket pushing against the embrace of Earth, trying to leave. I wonder how much force I'll need to put into every step I take away from you.

The moon turned its back on Earth, never to show its face again. The gods had stolen its beauty and given it to you.

"In the name of love," I wonder if love has a name. I don't think it does. Because any name other than yours would be simply wrong.

I read somewhere, You'll know when you are in love. I've always been curious, What is it to be in love? Every step I take, every corner I turn, I hope to find the answer. Will I ever find it? I'll let my hope live.

"Your words break my heart," said the liar. He did not yet know the pain of silence.