Marked

Let’s let the walls remain bare.

Let’s not play any music in the background.

Let’s not come wearing fragrances,

And labels.

Let’s just meet here,

And nowhere else.

So that when you go away,

I wouldn’t be stunned by places,

Smells, ideas and melodies,

Into the torture of your absence.

The crushing truth of it,

The convulsive,

Slow,

Death of hope.

So that,

Each morning,

I would just have me

To remember you by.

            ***

©Rasagya Kabra, March 13, 2012

"A certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect" ~ Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

The Balancing Act

Hold on to the thread of reason,

A little longer,

Just a little longer.

Imagine dawn.

How do you like your sky –

Blue, orange or golden?

Isn’t it a beauty?

But breathe this night,

The desolate moon, the sleepy stars.

Mourn its impending death.

Know in your heart,

That when the day grows too bright,

You will miss this quiet night.

                    ***

© Rasagya Kabra, March 4, 2012