Pens and Pages

Broken bones and a bruised face, He checked the mirror- The nightmare's back again. Palms that bled and fingers without nails. An empty heart and a blank page. He feeds himself on the frozen salad- Last year's leftovers, he did not forget. He could let go of sleep Or he could sit and bleed. He chooses to embrace the red So, within the four walls, he stayed. Why stay when you can leave? But all of this has happened before, Not a curse, it's a habit, he said.

Morbid days and morbid nights, Trees that no longer live, Blood in grandmother's hands, Red fluid that bled thick. The blood now powdered By her hands that crushed The necks of mint leaves. Baby faces on the walls Painted yellow and pink. The same faces haunt at night, Nights that remind them to laugh, Laugh and giggle Over their dead bodies Thrown in the kitchen garden. Trees that no longer live, Plants that died in grief, The tiny yellow leaves Of the stems that grew on the bodies, The roots that captured the hearts. The blood is now powdered, Maybe underneath grandmother's pestle. The mortar smells of rotten flesh, Grandfather's misery and mother's tears. The babies laugh as they protest, They would have bled every month anyway. Ten dead babies and a newly born, Grandmother's love and souls torn. Let the baby live That bleeds only once At the time of its death And not every month...

Blind eyes of the night, Half a moon to gaze at, Half a moon to cry for. She steps on broken hearts, Pieces of fierce glass That used to be mirrors. She walks a little too close To the burning walls of hell. The gates will burn too; The fire can no longer contain The wave of iced hearts. She picks the broken pieces Till her fingers bleed, Till those walls turn to ashes. She steps on the ashes, Till they embrace the ground Till one can no longer tell Ashes from the soil. A slow death, she says, Is the cure to all pain. And her last world is  Now ash, soil and blood. She flies to a new world, Of iced hearts and blind eyes. Half a moon to gaze at, Half a moon gazing back.

On some nights When no one else is awake She sits on my chest. She walks in and out of the door Till I recognize her face. And when he falls asleep In my arms, She gently cuts his throat And lets him bleed till dawn. She is named As she should be - The ugliness of glee. And the corpse That lie beside me now Was no one but a memory...

You're a poem, And one day, I will write you too; I'll bleed you out On the blank pages of my past, I'll read them aloud Till forever they last. But you're a poem, And you'll not last long, And one day, I'll end you too; You'll move on To another poet; I'll remember you Like the abandoned lines Of a forgotten verse. And may be then we shall meet, On the other side of those pages, On the other side of the blue ink, On the other side of someday.

From ages, beaten, rotten, He rises from his own ashes. He touches the skin, venomous, Of the one who had breathed the fire. He burns bright, with envy, With all the hatred within. The skin bleeds and wails On the mummified corpse Of its own sins- Its past deeds. The past rises high And swallows the dead eyes first. The skin, once venomous, Lies at the mercy of its own reflection. Justice, they say, Takes a long time to act... But, they can only heave a sigh When they finally see The Time isn't as far As it seemed to be...

I bleed blue, I bleed it all out; A single gun-shot, And a deep wound. Like a broken ferry on a vast, vast sea; I tremble, I shiver, Drenched in the cold memories. They still know your name; They ask where are you. For I was you then- Complete, Unsullied. For they still are there In the old battlefield, Fighting another war. I've changed; I've been soiled. I've bled all hues; I've seen it all. My sore wound rots; I await no war. Sullied, Smeared, I collapse, I shiver. Broken and twisted - I am you now.

I saw the shackles That made you bleed. I wiped your tears; I, too, wept. I saw the shackles That bound you so; I saw them cut into your flesh. I didn't see- They were, but, me. My tears and my hopes, Expectations and more so. When I did remove My blindfold, I set you free, I let you go.