Taming the scattered musings

September 26, 2014
10:45 PM

Leaving is an option
but staying is constant.

When something, someone leaves, there is something that always stays too.

Maybe a memory
when you sip your coffee and steam tickles your nose and you smile remembering something someone said.
Maybe a nightmare
you keep waking up with over & over again yet sleep back to finish it.
Maybe a scar
where the bracelet burned into your skin yet you wore it to have something of him with you always.

Something would always stay.

I'd rather have the person staying than all the memories, nightmares and scars scattered about without a source or destination.

Sometimes it's not about righting the wrongs or wronging the rights.
Sometimes it's about happiness.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

P.S. Previously posted on Facebook under the new pen name 'Encee'.

Venom

September 26, 2014
12:19 AM

Of all the random things I dreamed
Of all the secret notes I wrote
Ink bled as rain pounced
Colors screamed as flares devoured
and you, the vicious poison
eventually became your own antidote.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

P.S. Previously posted on Facebook under the new pen name 'Encee'.
All for love of the word 'venom'.

Just saying...

September 23, 2014
01:36 PM

Always narrate a love story beautifully. A lot of wishful thinking and dreams rest in between the lines somewhere. They will see their sunset someday.
Not here.
Not today.
Not yet.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

Random writings...

September 20, 2014

07:20 PM

Things we carry with us tirelessly

A few missing pieces

Dented, bent, crooked in places.

And then we do away with them, eventually

some months, years down the line.

In places remain the scars

where the crooked angles made home

the vacancy of it all

and the endless vacuum.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

Jane: A cry

She earnestly looked for a way to state the obvious. This was the one she could lay down her life for or so she said. But did she? Who knows. The only reality she ever left behind was that she existed once.

He was aloof. Who would bother looking for the girl-next-door who happened to be his only confidant for as long as he could remember until the fall out happened. Thereafter it was more of a "Jane who?".

Pages. The slide-out brick in her closet held all her secrets. Cursive in blue, italics in green, bold in black and his name 'Eric' in red. Perhaps, the girl who was forever clad in black did love colors after all. But there was something else she loved more. No points for guesses.

One mess of a suit that was. Black, thank goodness he had one. His brown pillow-styled hair missed her fingers running through. Did he? Be glad he even bothered to be here at all leaving that half-clad woman in his bed, the one he met at the bar last night.

Her script was beautiful. That was the only thing someone marched up to say for her empty-casket farewell. The four-letter eulogy of a girl who loved to write.

But where was she?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Where would you go when you know no one is ever going to look for you? She tried taking refuge in words. Day by day she lost herself in the world someone once created. To her it was just, to her this was sanest of the sane she could imagine. Then one day she started carving one out for herself, a world of her own. Imagination was magic. Words were her wand. Fire and ice couldn't have had a better hybrid. Her eyes were embers, her kiss was death.

Not many get to pen their own eulogy. Even if they do, they don't live to see it being read.

.

.

.

"To you she was weed.

To the world she is rose."

...goes the first page of an extraordinary title that has been penned by someone going by the name Rose.

"Jane: A cry" went on to be the fastest bestseller of the decade.

.

.

.

Eight years later.

One mess of a suit that was. Black, yes the same one you are guessing. His brown pillow-styled hair missed her fingers running through. Did he?

He finally did love. That was the only thing she marched up to say for his close-casket farewell. The only eulogy for a guy who traveled the world to find this girl he loved only to finally meet his end right by her door.

A speeding car signed his fate.

Rose Jane Eric Mathews is how she now signs her name.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

Image source: Tumblr

Turn

It'll burn

It'll heal

It'll burn

Again

This heart of mine

it loves this game.

I'll write

I'll tear

I'll write

Again

This memory of you

it needs being penned.

It'll lead

It'll fail

It'll lead

Again

This love of ours

it grows in pain.

I'll walk

I'll smile

I'll walk

To him

This morning of January

it will see the vows being exchanged.

But if so much as your shadow I see

Buying some time from time you recede

By the doors you linger

By the altar I wonder

I'll run
I'll break

I'll run

For everything that was

I'll turn.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

Image source: http://freepri.se/1ysGBrJ

Storm Chaser

I never did quite understand how I could absolutely love something so destructive. Maybe it was always the proximity of pain associated with it or the imperfections it painted on the picture perfect life. Or maybe I liked the feeling of finality in the phrase 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust'. It could be the gait or the way it blows your mind looking at it for real, approaching you to engulf you, feast upon whatever still keeps you sane. The moment you meet enshrouded in the thundering blankets, maybe the memory of that breathlessness still keeps you from breathing, at times. And when it whirlpools the way out into the infinite again, it marks you as his own in bruises no other lover could bear the sight of and leave you the kind of vulnerable no rebound would be able to satiate ever.

I never did quite understand how I could absolutely love something so destructive. Not until I met you.

Not until I left you.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

Image source: http://bit.ly/1ftYWdo

Letters Huddled Together

... And so I picked up what was left
Pieces of what will be forgotten soon under layers of dust
I held them close for once
To you I dedicated my last dance
Humming the tune to the song I once chose
To walk down the aisle to, in my hand concealing a little pink rose.

Tonight, too, it felt like walking on clouds
Only this time they thundered, scattered and took me down
My words lost their letters
As what was all glitters
Crashed
Turned ash.

I could fight it, I knew
Saving a sapling I could plant it anew
And hope this time it grows
To gift me that one pink rose
But when all you shed was acid in name of rain
I chose to let death take over, dignify the endless pain.

So walk with me this last
Don't take my hand if I start to speed by fast
Just breathe in time with me for a few more moments
Lets just sync heartbeats until frozen
And never see eye to eye
While I disappear before you remember to say goodbye...

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

source: http://imgfave.com/view/1618075

Fog, Fantasy & So-very-everyday

Glaze paper planes
Every day I make one
Tiny people, matchstick men
In folds of each I place one
Who knows which eyelash wish I blow
lands on one and it takes off
Or maybe some falling star
Sneaks in my room as I sleep
and steals one.

It rained today and I also heard
that the fog is so dense, flights won't go
I sat cross-legged on the floor
With my colored patchwork PJ's on
And pictured your smirk, your eyes, your face
as I undid the folds and turned planes to boats
So the waters
would take them along.

Kitty-tail handled mugs
Every morning I pick up two
Out of habit or sheer make-belief
That maybe out of nowhere you
would apparate here
I pour in hot chocolate
And stare the empty one
Till the time I'm done
And place it back
yet again.

I spilled the milk this morning
and your cup shared the fall
As I left the scene to bring something to clean up
The phone buzzed, your call
I came back minutes later
remembering I had a task to do
Having devoured it all, curled it lay
cuddling the two mugs together
my tiny cat, Furball.

Lock & key diaries, a few scribble conversations in class
Random pictures in random places
are bits of you that I have
All day the thought of having them keeps me sane
And my nights are a jigsaw, a never-ending hide and seek game
I see you sometimes
I never reach you though
But I wake up to play
the same thing all over again.

I finally did find you this night
after months of tracing in vain
And when you held my hand
I felt the death inside of me breathe life in
You are like gravity
I can't help but give in
I was being drawn in your arms
my world was that moment, you, just then.

And then I fell off the bed for the nth time
Who knew it was the actual gravity calling in.
A sleepy me narrated you the scene
while a world apart, the sound of your laughter
Played the paused song, my heart sang again.

© 2013 Neha Choudhry

...And then there was her, the Hurricane.

I could be dark
The kind night would need, to sleep closing eyes to
The kind stars would welcome replacing the sky anew
The kind that looks at you and your secrets come undone
The kind death would cuddle as a baby next to.

I could be a storm
The kind that comes and goes often, no inhibitions
The kind Nostradamus would have had a hard time fathom into illustrations
The kind that sweeps past and life breathes in a sigh of resurrection
The kind sea would go down on knees for, pleading unison.

I could be fragrance
The kind that unlocks memories set to flames
The kind sweat would stream down his brows to unite with, it's personal suicide mission
The kind that re-instills faith in love even when the rose lies crushed, end of game
The kind happiness has, trapped in the neck of his sweater awaiting the first winter kiss to liberation.

Or

I could be that one dark storm
That sets free your dementors
Redefines your infinities
Annihilates your fears
And leaves you with a fragrance
That you'd walk in search of
For eternity.

© 2013 Neha Choudhry