Don’t search for me in the crooked objects at your drawer desk, or in the love notes your hands lost touch off or the text message or person because lost memories can only be found at heart, but you won’t find me there either, so don’t search for it.
And when you will be tired of searching and will be clueless about where you lost me, read ‘OUR’ book, and as you flip the pages, you will find my fragrance, the texture of the paper will feel like a familiar touch and you will hear words speaking as you flip the pages unfolding memories.
When you will be done reading, you will find a dried rose at the back of it, and then, maybe, you will figure out where you lost me.
Because some memories can’t be traced by regrets!


Jigsaw puzzle was my favorite thing as a kid, wherein every piece would and could connect to each other, but the real challenge was to figure out what fits in and justifies its existence. Now when I look back, the game seems familiar, easier in the sense to figure out which piece to put in. I still remember the piece, which got lost and I couldn’t figure out how to complete the whole set. I’am still figuring my way out.

Now that I know, but still wonder, were you the puzzle or that missing piece?



“I’m just a call away”, you typed and retyped, I don’t know how many backspaces you might have back lashed…

“I know”, I typed back. I don’t remember how many texts got backspaced in between, how many alphabets lost their existence, died on the palm of my glowing screencast phone under my fickle-mind.

One year later, “just one call away” hanging over the text messages, I don’t remember how many promises it broke, how many breaths it took, how many parts of me lost their existence, how many months marked red crosses, how many texts I re-read, how many conversations I performed autopsies for, how many fingers lied over phone log, how many emergency calls got skipped, how many times I needed you but you were not there

“I’m just a call away” and that call was never made, remember?


Since when did my name started sounding like an echo past woods, I can see my reflection in your eyes and then I turn around so you don’t see yours, because that’s how we see one another and I’m too afraid to be seen. All we do is just take a brief look and then just walk away. It’s a different feeling, similar to the one when you leave a place, it’s not that ache of leaving people or place behind. It’s about leaving a peice of you behind which you don’t want to leave but sticking on to it is like holding onto a sharp knife. Vulnerable! No, that’s a long-lost feeling.
Maybe it’s a fear to lose a part of me or maybe about the fact that I would never forget who I truly am and who I truly was. Waves are drowning down again and it’s more like a heartache or lungs collapse or maybe a stomach drops this time.
But this time I’ll let go of this feeling


We parted our ways in the woods, still lost but pretending as if we are familiar with the paths we are travelling. We been travelling here alone for ages, but together is something I can’t commit for the moment.

So we walk and walk these unfamiliar lanes in our own ways, waiting that one day either we will actually part or either we will collide.

But till then let’s just pretend as if we know to where we are leading to..


I sat with death in this lost place, full of frightening head hurricanes, exquisite skin shedding, spine-chilling and limb wrecking, for I know that we were born with the shadow of our corpse, I hear your screams as your souls devour your body and this deafening silence of protecting yourself from your nocent self, life is like a colourless nightmare, stagnantly crimping inside me, I wish you perform autopsies before you start seeing me as a COLOUR, at least.

Till then, I’ll just B. R. E. A. T. H. E.


These achived chats hold me hostage, reluctantly asking me to glare at the old conversations which exists as a sea bed sand castles, delicate and crippling down ready to be devastated into pieces and I’m still stuck in this momentary fiction of thoughts full of rage and vengeance, loosing vanity to the extremes pitching voice of the past and the only tangible collateral being pain, me constantly running back to the ghost of you is scary because this will only devour your existence and you no longer seem the same and the realization shook me off.

Maybe I’m still dreaming but this time I wasn’t asleep…


Her hair were like (U)nseen soft breezes passing by, smoothly caressing your skin, her eyes like deep pacific, treasury of her soul, her insecurities like a fallen bead necklace yet tied with an (I)nvisible thread.

Her body singing rhymes to her souls and her (C)ascade adorned with beautiful white lilies veiling that familiar (I)nevitable gaze enduring every pain and glorifying every scar that found its existence on her (D)elicate body.

To my surprise her (E)ulogy still remained unheard because the reasons of her sin are still unknown..


He: What’s wrong?

She: (typing…)
These achieved chats hold me hostage to these uncertain memories wandering in my mind, seeking solitude chaotically, Patience with vengeance and uncertainty with the certainty to hold on, tumbling down the rainbow we measure alone and the rustic dusty windows that still paves our way to home…YOU WERE HOME! I have been searching this place forever and when I have had it all, you screwed up everything.
I’m homeless now and might me forever. I had solemnly accepted you,  why would you do that me!?

She: (sent) NOTHING!!


What if, I was born under your star? Would you bother to construct a constellation out of it?

What if, I sounded like an old favorite muse or the song you hate listening to now, Would you still play it because it holds the memories of the past?

What if, I said I love you, Would you add to it or Would it sliver your gaze?

What if, I tangled myself up with some problem? Would you bother to wind up the scissor around?

What if, I ever said, “I’ll die without you”, Would you hold me to the death or would you leave my casket open for the bees to die in for the blooming lilies at my grave?

What if, I could hear you at my grave? Would you take my name and say I loved you too as an eulogy?

What if, I write this all over again? Would you bother to be a trespasser this time?

Would you? Or would you not?