Summer Soliloquy

When the afternoon thought it could gauge the energy seeping out

Of my body as I lay sprawled in the summer heat

Not a thought of you lancing my thoughts, at all

But some deserted town within me echoed as I slipped

Into a slumber


Slipped into a slumber I wake up with my arms

Locked around you in yearning and yours

Yours wrapped me in the remembrance

I have spent years of my lonesomeness eluding


But in my waking hours when you visit as a memory from a siesta

Dull aches erupt in my chest, shapes of your words giving them form

Your words, memories and exactness of which, are gone

And I refrain from adding cliché to this monologue

To abstain from saying,

“And so are you.”



Night Vision

We were merely two wolves
Carrying embankments in our howling chests
Falling for our moons, in reflections of disturbed ponds
Acquaintances we were, of parallel woods
Not much thought spared
Other than the occasional, the customary
We were merely two wolves
Streaking through the wilderness
Within and without
Barely touching borders
Barely touching
Each other
And now nights roll out, carpets of moss to tread on
I hear you, I hear us
Soft padded thuds, footsteps or simply what we feel?
We howl, not echoing each other
For we let out the sorrows clawing our subdued eyes
Can I rest my tired head against your shoulder?
Guarding these walls has drained me
The reminders ache in the form of thorns embedded
Can I rest my head against yours?
It’s a quiet place of peace
Where our borders merge
A silent breathing space of no-meaning
Yet as we breathe us in, I wonder
When did darkness become a silhouette
Of warmth?

Names Ache, Namesake


Imagine a fragment of the universe
The layout of galaxies flickering
In the blackness
Swirling, spiralling, in and out of each other

Pulse. Flicker. Pulse.
Here, horizons don’t exist
But we do
We share more than a name
This must be what it’s like to, just, be
We have encircled each other for far too long

Two clouds of mist, shapeless, formless
Merging, emerging
Conversations, not interacting
Just upending
The contents of these bodies and minds
Of celestial matter they say we are
Yes, mass, that must be it

The mutual heaviness, the synchronized unloading
Do you feel this
I’d place your gentle hand over my heart
If you were here
Yet we can feel the tides and maelstroms
Raging in us in response
To each other
Do you think the pianists of old could compose a masterpiece so simple?
I doubt.
But it’s us and I love it
I love the sense of echoing quiet when we converse
In abstract fragments but both know
The picture by heart
A picture with a feeling
Of ripples in rivers surging within
Laps of soothing melody
Has it been said before? Sometimes names are magic
I like this feeling, we should talk more often
What are you? Fuck. You’re magic.
Life doesn’t seem so scrambled like eggs right now
Or like constellations dispersed throughout dark ceilings
Flicker. Pulse. Flicker.
Back to stars and galaxies
Things my puny existence does not understand
We should leave science to the scientists and astronauts
And the understanding of us to our explorations
Swirling, spiralling in and out of each other

Names… ache.
We ache together
We wonder, we find
To our explorations
From sloppy kisses to our analogies
Of the fullness and lack of meaning
In the fragile moments of lip-lock stillness
The void they’re invitations to

“Come meet me at the edge and let’s fall together”

We express. We echo.

And so we ache under the burning light of nights
And days, a shadow choreography
Of flickering tangerine

We can dig graves
And our hearts
Be grave robbers
There’s always something to take
From the dead
So we sigh and speak lyrical
We are paintings of our cubist selves
We’re the same picture
Cubism is what it has been
You and I
Identical, cubed, differently arranged
Pulse. Flicker. Pulse.
I love you.


I never let you go
I waited for the possibility of an ‘us’ to erase itself
I never pursued you
I indulged in the thought of loving you
Without wanting to be loved back
Now there’s someone where I could’ve been
I didn’t let you go
I waited for the possibility of an ‘us’ to erase itself
Now there’s an empty space where you have been
For a quarter of a decade
It’s empty but not the absent and something-is-missing kind
It’s space that feels empty but like it could be filled
With some nice
Nice is a nice word to begin with
It was nice loving you


We may or may not be the closest friends can be
But your words
Often trigger the mechanism of my poetry
Into action
So silently, that I’m baffled
At how pieces of acknowledgement, expression and more
Could tiptoe out of the hull of this heart
And onto mediums
Which sail it across oceans yawning in between
A cradle of affection lulling thoughts, emotions, and experiences
As we head on towards differently hued sunrays
Braving futures and streets paved with stained glass and moonbeams
Our dreams orbiting focal points of sunrises
We’ll watch, crossing deserts in search of forts from forgotten lore
Down valleys hidden in the folds of Himalayas
And temple ruins you’re so eager to run your hands along the stones of
We met through words and through words we have grown
I could only thank constellations
For a soul like you
That I’ve known

Leafing past ~

I came across a little notebook

With my poems from years ago

How I’ve changed and evolved

I did not think I would ever know


Thinning pages recognize me

The words climb into my lap

Once penned with compassion

They now fill memory gaps


Entwining, they ink through my arms

Surging to where they were conceived

Greeting offsprings, heart beats louder

Verses devour what wasn’t received


In my journey to go forward

I have left behind that little girl

Bent over pages by windows

As now her future unfurls



Oh you pompous little heart

By its own desires, punctured

Compartmentalizing feelings

Has left you deflated, ruptured


Oh you devious little sinner

Singing sonnets of the yellows

Brooding under barren trees, mishearing

The mind’s urgent bellows


Oh you sower of insolent dreams

Vining through a poet’s chest

His widowed parchment as lies in wait

Of the drunk’s weeping best


Oh you captivator of suffering

An alcoholic of self-inflicted sorrows

Had you listened to the mind’s pleadings

You’d have sung of better tomorrows.



It’s kind of centered around this doodle of mine.

Doodle by Pratyusha


— Praty



It’s so strange,
My hands are shaking,
I feel so unemotional,
The very thought is aching.

I do not understand,
Where did I go wrong?
There is a dull hurt,
But so devoid of its song.

It’s so strange,
My hands are shaking.
If I’m feeling unemotional,
Behind my eyes,
Why are these tears dancing?

Maybe it’s the soul,
Maybe it’s signalling,
Maybe it’s that month again,
And the buried are rising.

Maybe it’s that month again,
Maybe that’s why my hands are shaking.
When I write of haunting memories,
And people I’ve loved.
Once again the vaults are eroding,
And the jinxed locks are breaking.



I wrote this before Gone~(tribute to a friend). And like it says, this is that month when I write of people I’ve loved and haunting memories. NaPoWriMo.


— Pratty