To My Crush , Please Send the Right Signals

Smitten by you, I was ascending to heaven from hell,

I could not find any pill to cure my pounding heart,

My mind is cleaned with waters of your charms,

And I fell into something that I should not have.

Every time you spell my name, I'm taken to the land of passion again, after years.

Every time you say goodbye, I see our eyes locking,

Our pupils struggle with embarrassment from unspoken emotions.

Every time I catch you looking at me,

I feel stupid, and

Every time you talk to me, I do compare

it with others.

A trail of first things are happening with me

when I think of you, and

I get erased into the four-dimensional world of entanglement.

My feelings are opaque in your presence to force you to look at me,

But it becomes transparent in my loneliness,

And takes the form of full-time fledged smiles,

Hovering above my room with wings.

What have you done to me?

This cannot happen and I will not reveal my feelings,

Unless you give the right signal.

All the signals that I'm getting may be wrong,

Leading to wrong paths of thorns and pain,

Please send the right signals,

I'm on the verge of destruction,

Unable to form my reality.

The reality of impossibility, and

Of you turning into one of my unsent letters,

That was hurt by opening the cover.

I wonder if you know how I overthink and fantasize about you,

You and your signals may have wrongly read,

Please take them back,

Because I'm unable to confront you and get hurt,

I'm unable to stop stalking you and seeking your attention.

Please send the right signals nonchalantly,

I will keep them safe and sound.

To meet you at the corners or to sit lonely at the corners.

A. C

Comments

THE SILENT CRY

Darkness ...at its zenith Silence.. at the sound 's lowest decibel.. I wrapped myself up into the blanket tears rolled down my cheeks.. I cried.. I cried in the dark silence silently.. No voice of my cry.. I bite my hands.. I cried silent loudly.. I cried for the dreams unfulfilled I cried thinking of my unpredicted future.. I cried thinking of my unknown death.. I cried thinking of my inabilities I cried thinking of the gifts not given to me I cried thinking of my people.. And I complained God Almighty for the miseries given to me.. ... I wiped off my tears.. I smiled. Perfect... Nothing is better than this silent loud cry..!! A.C

Kaathal - The Core Breaker of 2023

Kaathal - The Core is one of the movies of 2023 that left an ache in my heart. It's the kind of movie where you just sit and stare at the wall for hours after you finish it. I keep thinking about the pain of Mathew, Omana, Thankan and Chachan and it is something that continues to haunt me. Mathew’s pain is something that has become part of him by living the prime of his life pretending to be an integral part of a heteronormative society. His calm and meek personality is like a dormant volcano that is likely to erupt anytime. When he confronts his pain with Chachan and Omana, we see him peeling off his outer layer of crust and showing us his core. The core, that has carried deep wounds of fear and shame of coming out and confronting his fears, all this while. I don’t think I have seen a more compassionate and kind woman as Omana in recent movies. Despite being in a marriage that doesn’t fulfill her needs, she stays in it for years for the sake of Mathew. And when the right ...

Little Poem

My procrastination ends here, While the urge to write chokes my throat, My hands get paralysed as in a trance, I find excuses to write a little poem, I make up a lonely man, a distressed woman, a lovers’ quarrel, an unrequited love, But they are reluctant to play the part, Maybe i should give them a raise, Or throw a party at midnight, Maybe a few drinks might work, Only if they don’t puke. I can expect a little vandalism, Some damage to the property and a mini scandal, Possibly out of rage. But at the end when I bring my weapons, Sometimes they get scared and back off, Some may never come back, Others find it funny and mock at me, And opportunists, seeing my desperation, Attacks me with manipulation. And all these while, my three panic attacks talk to me in a different language, I try to write a little poem With a racing heart and flowing eyes, I write my little poem, tortured and broken, I end my little poem, Like a mighty warrior, Who had a pyrrhic victory.

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