And Love Is Not A Victory March

Her fate was written the day she was named Ophelia.

The parting dialogue had always been difficult. The grief was just too unbearable at times. He liked to play with fire and she become the burnt victim of it every single time. But here’s the thing, when she found him it was more like as if she had found herself. And at times when it felt like he was drifting away, she thought she was too… from herself. 

In the midst of all the lying faces and betraying voices, she had found him. That’s how she knew him anyway. The voice and the face and that’s it. Had no idea as to how his skin felt like. She was absolutely clueless about his scent. Maybe she was unfortunate in a lot more ways than she had presumed. Why was he among all the ugly souls? She would wonder why since there was not even a hint of impurity in him. So she thought.

She fell in love with him while he was still trying to figure things out. He was too busy with those ugly souls. He called them friends. He let his guard down and called them friends. She fell in love with his grace. She knew she was non-existent in that sparkly world of his. It was glittery. Very much so and she was like a dull shooting star that was passing by so didn’t expect him to notice her anyway. Acceptance of circumstances became the only option. Sigh.

Oblivious to her simple world there he was among all the shiny objects with nothing but hollowness filled in them. So her association with words began. Letters to be specific. They were written in her mind and she had sworn that they'd never leave that sacred space. She wrote him letters of love, sorrow, triumphs, tragedy, loss and hope above all.

And then things changed. The pain became almost too much to bear. You see when you ache that much in love; it can actually become a life threatening disease. But how do you explain what love is to a cactus. Horrible analogy, I admit but yes he was like a cactus. Surviving under harsh times in unlikely situations while being oblivious to the pain of others. Also because anyone who tried to come close got hurt. At times really badly.

Time went by and she became a withering autumn leaf. Suffered a lot. And he went on and added one more lie to his life. People discussed the ring for months and he couldn’t stop smiling from ear to ear. I wonder if that smile had broken into two halves had people not talked as much about yet another shiny object from his life? But that’s simply not the concern here. He married a lie perhaps because he was an illusion himself as well. And then whatever unfolded after was inevitable.

In this city so full of lights and sparkly objects quiet like himself, she had to succumb to her disease. The outer story is that she was found drowned in a bath tub but let’s not dig up the inner story because believe me when I say this...she had drowned and succumbed to her injuries a long time ago. But couldn't prove anything because it never showed in her blood test results so she decided to drown in her own sorrow.  

In that spiritless cold body was a heart that had just stopped beating. They couldn't revive it. They tried but they had to pronounce the time of death. That's how the heart stopped beating. That heart with all the unwritten stories of yester years. The ones of aching love and unfulfilled dreams.

And next to that cold lifeless body was the ring.

And walking away from it all…there he was.  

The widower. The cactus.

The Musician Marilyn

In that old bar by the street corner in my town
She sang sad love songs with that heart so broken
Do you not remember those light blue eyes?
With gestures of love in them resided unspoken

Try and just remember my sweetest Marilyn
And how she belted out tunes so spell-bound
Held on to the despair somewhere deep within
In over flowing sorrows forever remained drowned

They say she suffered from that broken heart syndrome
Those hands did not stop shaking since the day he left
She became uncomfortably numb ever since then
Sang songs of despair in that black mourning dress

Quickly all the triumphs turned into doleful tragedies
And the surrounding air just got heavier by the day
Rage within subsiding somewhere on the periphery
While witnessing quietly her heart's destined dismay

You can't do much when the spirit gets badly bruised
For it is as fragile as the sandcastles we all once built
Sweet girl, angel you and your pursuit for happiness
Left you nothing but deserted with dreams unfulfilled

They swept her memories away with that dusty old broom
Complete standstill it was, my darling angel had fallen
The sky mourned as I laid a dozen red roses on her grave
Music grieved as she was laid to rest, my blue eyed Marilyn

In The Hollows Of Uncertainty

In the quicksands of time I was dissolving. No it wasn't a nightmare. It was reality at its worst. There was this desperation to escape it. Ran so fast that it felt like the heart was beating outside of my body. Adrenaline rush it was. Can't say if it was the good kind or the bad. I was gasping for breaths. It was like pleading rather begging to live while this dark cloud was closing in from all around. Like I explained to you, trying to escape it became the only option. And then I soon found myself locked in the midst of some four walls. So escaping wasn't a possibility anymore. And I almost gave in.

It was dark. Visibility was minimal. But what did I know so fighting back became my only option except didn't know as to who was the opponent here? Had no idea as to how strong that force was? But fighting back was the alternative selection here. And It was just us. That dark cloud and myself. My breaths became limited. Though I must admit that nothing was depriving me of my deserved breaths. My concentration was diverted towards winning this battle. It was even a struggle to breathe at that point. If anything, isolation from it all was my own choice. Because giving in would have been the wiser option but silly me had other preferences.

And then came the climax of it all. It got even darker. I entered the abyss. That feeling of bleakness persisted. Letting go and embracing defeat was the only option left now. Had I known that the memoirs once written in my mind would unfold like this, I would have just prayed for something else. Perhaps the same story with the same climax but fast forwarded until this part. And let me tell you as to what happened next. The very abyss became my bliss.

Life turned into an absolute irony and it became impossible to prison the very thing that eventually ended up captivating me instead. What did I know at that moment? How long was this going to be for? Well had I known that it would imprison me for eternity, I swear to you my darling, I swear...
I would have given in much earlier.

Because in the hollows of uncertainty it was our spirits who were finally at peace post finding each other. And now... life's unfolding at its own pace as I watch you sleep tonight while remembering that for sure today has been okay but here's kissing you good night with a promise that tomorrow will be better.

Sweet dreams. :)

Le Misérable

And somehow it all comes down to a few moments we have with each other. The clock keeps ticking and we have to live out those few moments to the core. Just so we can go to bed with the memory of that moment. Just so that memory can linger around us, in us and out of us. And you know what happens if the memory accidentally fades? The mornings turn blue, the afternoons gray and the night turns black. Not the kinda black you and I admire so much. Its a different one. The one that absorbs all of our Oxygen and we gasp for breath. The one where we can't seem to find each other and we get lost in the abyss of uncertainty. Its not a good feeling. I certainly know it. And I know that you know as well. You see there's absolute chaos out there in the world. Then there's that uncontrolled madness in me. But it all reaches its equilibrium when you are there. Holding me. Letting me know that it will be alright. But how do you console someone who has never known what peace is? How do you explain calm to the restless? And how do you explain sweet dreams to the insomniacs?

Don't blame me. Blame this world. Blame life in general. Because it made me the way I'm. It made me so bitter and so angry and so doubtful that I don't know anything for sure anymore. But you know what? It was meant to be this way.  We were all supposed to get hurt at first. The sky was supposed to come crashing down on all of us. Its an unwritten rule of life. Its a fact so you and I should go ahead and embrace it with open arms. What I feel today wouldn't have felt as great perhaps ten years ago. Had I not gone through the pains and aches, I don't think I would have been afraid of losing you. The fact that I have started to feel the fear is a positive thing. I have another confession. I think I'm scared of dying. I don't want to die. I know death does not end a relationship and yet I'm scared of dying. But I have an ill heart, I know. And it might kill me sooner than later. The reasons for its illness are many but above all its ill because its been aching since a while now.

And no do not count the number of days its been aching for. You will lose count and you will certainly get frustrated. With me. With yourself. And mostly with my aching heart. But I will tell you as to why it aches. It aches because its been miserable since a very long time now. And its mainly because it realizes that what it feels for you is bigger than anything it has ever felt before. Ok perhaps not as big as the galaxies out there but its far beyond than just a word.

Good Night. :)

The Last Eulogy

The love itself had an aura of angelic divinity
That hour of sad interval was declared a sin throughout

Yet enduring deprivation turned awfully treacly

And being in the arms of love became her last reward

And yes of course my dearest, your love resembled a strange ailment

So doubt the sun, the moon and the stars if you truly wish to

For the sun can melt, the moon may wither and stars might shoot

But do not doubt that gesture of love, for it was somewhat true

So you must know that even though you took a road less traveled

In broken, tangled, decaying pieces, I almost did love you as well

-Love Jake

The Blind Violinist

Inside that mid night subway train

Heard a broken hearted lover play

Plucking strings so they could echo

Those mediocre tunes of utter dismay

Trying to fix her broken pendant, there she was

With her winter scarf wrapped around her neck

Remembering romance of yester nights

Hiding scars of bites and pecks

Dared he, began to play Mozart

Symphony fourty-Molto allegro

Entered E flat major in a haste

Not affecting the smooth flow

Lost in the sanctuary of sins

In that deep state of half asleep

With dreams resting on her eyelids

Of Starry les nuits à Paris

With a half soul, yet giving his best 

Lost in the melody with eyes closed

With a name of past love engraved

On that dusty broken violin's scroll

Her station Chester was next, they announced

She got ready to depart the train

Eyes on the door, heart somewhere in Paris

And walking dans central city in the rain

Lost in thought she walked past him

Her scent so familiar, J'adore it was

"Abby", screamed he, the blind violinist

His wounds still unprocessed and raw

"Mistaken you are", she replied impolitely

Doors opened, wind distributed her scent

He apologized for mistaken identity

Yet memory of past sorrows did augment

Of days full of hopelessness

And nights full of uncertainty

His lover's secret Ménage à trois

Away from his blind sight, a place so privy

The doors closed behind the woman

As she witnessed the train leave

Her pendant broke, landing in her hand

On it was the name engraved Abby

Dorian Gray

In his limpid stillness he stands tall proudly
References made about his distinct beauty
Basil, an artist, secret admirer of the boy
Romantic soul, fearful yet half full of joy
With feelings unexpressed of admiration
Of illusive kisses, desires and temptation
Says Basil,"You have a part of me Dorian,
But you do not care for my pure affection",
While the boy with a stone heart and vanity
With heart breaker qualities and no sympathy
Asks the sinful artist that as his life begins to unfold
To let him stay young & let his painting grow old
"Let it take upon the punishment for my sins,
Allow it to suffer on my behalf somewhere within",
Enters Sybil, the local theatre actress, playing Juliet
Sparks grew, his name got engraved on her heart's slate
Rejection came when he failed to recognize any art in her
She died of love then and there which caused a stir
A life he spent in guilt, helplessness, yet with pride intact
Portrait aging, resembling evil, with beauty subtract
His divided existence based on absolute lies
A life then spent on edges of frailty and vice
Years passed, the evil grew more within
The darkness took over and purity forgotten
He became a murderer, killed the very artist
Who made him famous, a moment not his best
Debauchery took over, daily trips to the opium den
Remained intoxicated in the east end of London
His deal with the devil became over whelming
Fame, vanity, wealth all seemed unappealing
So he turned to the portrait he hadn't seen in ages
Saw ruminations of an unworthy wicked savage
He then stabbed the painting deep in the heart
Destroying the image, Basil's best work of art
As the soul deceased, so did Dorian
His face resembling a horror film villain
A life time spent on the tendrils of immorality
He paid the price of his venomous vanity