Growing Up

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I want to be five years old again. Back when colours were just colours and not reminders of people I once used to know. When happiness came in tiny, brightly-coloured packets of shiny candy and wasn’t accompanied with bitter memories that turned my tongue sour. When love was the toys I shared with my friends and not an elusive firefly I could never catch, glowing dimmer and dimmer the closer I got to it.

I want to be eight years old again. Back when games were just games, innocent fun to pass a lazy summer day and this deadly hide-and-seek life now plays with me was still in the future, far away. When my fingers were still learning to grip my pen with ease and not ripping apart notebooks filled with words from a past me. When songs were sung in high, exulted notes and not a voice near breaking for the fifth time today.

I want to be fifteen years old again. Back when breathing was something I did without a thought and didn’t have to think twice about laughing too hard. When a door was just a door with exciting adventures behind it and not a door with monsters lurking in the corners beside it. When life was a road I was yearning to walk, my eyes blissfully oblivious of the weeds that grew further down the path.

I don’t want to be twenty years old yet. I still have to call the people I think of when my eyes catch a certain shade of yellow. I still have to thank everyone who bought me candy when I was eleven. I still need to chase that firefly and seek the future. I still have to tape together the ripped notebooks, still need to try singing that song again because I’m positive, this time I can do it. I still need to catch my breath just so I can laugh some more. Still have to try the knob of every door. And when I’m done with all of that, I’m gonna put on a new pair of shoes and dance my way through all those weeds that lurk down the paths I choose.

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Threat

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It’s a vicious cycle. This endless cycle of disappointment.

You say words I never expected you to, words that sting like a mother. Then I defy you in those open acts of rebellion that are the shining feature of my personality. Stubborn. Irrational. Self-destructive.

It makes you glare at me, my defiance. I can feel the heat of your anger rolling off your skin. Your compulsive need to tame me making your hands itch. I can see your fingers twitching. I can feel the red spots in your vision.

And that is when your hand rises. The end of the power struggle. Your victory over me. Brute strength always wins this battle. Especially when I am right.

You are in control. And you leave no opportunity to remind me of that.

But that is not where the story ends. Because the wounds you inflict on me are the signs of your real failure. Your failure as a man. They are the evidence of how wrong you are.

One day, I shall parade them. One day, when you’ve ruined me enough for nakedness to not bother me anymore, I will parade them. One day, you’ll feel my shame. One day, you’ll see disappointment and hate in their eyes too, like I saw in yours.

My bruises might be hidden for now, protecting you awhile, but one day, the bloody gashes inside my head will give me the ink to write out your doom.

 

 

Image Credit: https://agnes-cecile.deviantart.com/art/are-scars-on-body-217843735

Thorn

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I never knew

That I could love someone

Just a little too much

Until I wrenched

The bloodied rose

Out of my chest

To show you my love

But forgot the thorn

That sliced your finger.

~Diksha

 

Image credit: arcaenis.deviantart.com

A Hard Choice

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Heartbeat

In overdrive,

Breathing

Laboured

And terrified,

Eyes

Closed shut

Tight,

I hover

Between life

And death,

Wondering

Whether

To give in

And jump

Over the

Precipice.

~Diksha

Darling, I Wish…

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Darling, I wish

I could go back in time – 

Wipe your tears away,

Hold your hand in mine.

Darling, I wish

I could watch you while you sleep

When you’re at your most vulnerable – 

See everything you’ve buried deep.

Darling, I wish

I could keep you with me forever –

Spend my entire life with you,

Be parted from you, never.

Darling, I wish

I could love you a little less

Or maybe gather enough courage

To look you in the eye and finally confess.

~Diksha

Uninvited Guest

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Hidden in a crevice,

Lying silently in a nook,

Sneaking around creepily –

Fleeting glimpses when I look;

Breathing down my neck

As I’m buried in a book;

His deathly, chilly presence

Leaves me frozen – spooked and shook.

~Diksha

The Devil’s Plaything

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Breathless, I strain

Against the pull of the puppet string –

Trapped, encaged

In the confines of the circus ring.

Like a demonic sadist,

You torture me like a mere plaything.

From one crazy height

To another of insanity you swing.

Flirting with madness,

You revel in your lunatic fling;

Forcing me on the tightrope,

You laugh at how I struggle to cling.

You pull at me harder

Just to relish in how my screams sing,

For I am your puppet

And you, insanity’s best circus king.

~Diksha

 

Image source: https://in.pinterest.com/pin/485262928576155289/

A Wintery Walk

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The rush

Of the winter breeze

Against my cheek,

The thump

Of my cold feet

On the pavement

While my fingers freeze,

A sharp intake

Of breath – the building up

Of a sneeze,

The chills

Of the morning air

Whispering in my ear

Like a mischievous tease.

~Diksha

The Erring (Wo)Man

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Each of man’s quarrels –

The woman’s fault:

An ageless blame game

That he would not halt.

Battle and bloodshed –

The woman’s fault;

At every turn of the road,

Her honour suffers assault.

Man’s fall from grace –

The woman’s fault;

Of his own superiority

Must fickle man always exalt?

~Diksha