The Moon drank the coconut water

That night between drinks and tissues
That night between silence and gossips
That night between flirting and talking
That night between water and dry eyes
I met someone.

I have been talking to this person
Since quite a long time
But that day, I found a bit of me inside her
Strong enough to hold the tear
But, wanting a hand to wipe it off
Incase it rolls of the pupils

You don't know her
But talking to her is more easy then to your friend
She feels home
Not with the concretes
But she has all the stories
The broken pieces
The mended heart
The fears, you fail to breathe through
The experiences, that are more of fun
Than the choas you struggle with everyday

My coconut water!
But the shell that she carries isn't tough
Which needs a hard hit, to be broken
And let the soft core visible to all
Instead, Listen to her
Ask her about the night,
She didn't sleep
About the day,
That she missed by sleeping for just a couple of minutes by the sun

It's strange
They find the shy tough to handle
And
Find the caring for the strong, of least importance

I often stare at the moon
Asking for answers
But I forgot
That the human beside me is silent with the answers
How can that black stone answer them
She has been listening to my shits
But I love her more for being so true to herself
Not trying to explain the versions she lives,
To the rest.
She is the night sky holding the moon

Apparently my moon is not the black stone
She is the coder in a distant home

Comments

The shying words

How do you believe the moon isn't whispering your stories to someone aren't the chance of him whispering it to some writer high May be one of the reasons why you related to the story yesterday on Netflix May be that's how your crushes end up in your favorite color today May be that's how you cleared the interview today How do you know the moon isn't working on his script with your lines If you can believe someone that far How do we end up doubting the skin and flesh besides and around us If we don't hold expectations and grudges when it comes to him Why wonder for years over a message that din come through I don't understand how we whisper our secrets to the mountains and the sea but fear of losing them against the people we breathe with How do we trust the living forms breathing without the flesh over the living we can touch and feel How do I trust the paper with my words and strangers with my smiles With every question I pen I end of writing hope, belief, ...

Meeting a boy

I ask mom can I go out with him, she says no in blocks caps and everything to make it loud enough So that I don't try to convince her I ask mom if I can go out with her As first like always she says no, but after 2 or 3 attempts She is fine with the plan I wonder what is the difference May be she thinks The she I would be hanging out with Won't hug me Or kiss me Or put her arms around my waist Or on the shoulders Or come close enough to increase my heart beat Or hold my hands and walk around Or bring me flowers and chocolates and gifts Or take me on a dinner date Or for lunch Or for a date just with a cup of tea and lots of eye to eye talking and so much of silence But we will be together all this while But aren't there chance of me falling for a girl But aren't there chance of the boy not liking me and just coming to say hi and a bye And everything in between it will be about the job and family we both are living with in those four walls...

Fears, are real!

All the fears are real People falling While walking While dancing While just standing still While looking at someone Failing In the exams With the expectations Of yours And your loved once And the strangers Growing In love Out of love Getting old With lessons With scars With open wounds Being stuck On page for hours and weeks In life for years and years With people till the end In thoughts of your own and the others too. With a blank full of ink but still not working Many others like People giving up on you People not fighting for you You not able to find the old you You missing yourself While you stand before the mirror With blank thoughts Like standing in a room On your own shadow Everyday at certain hour of the day All that you fear is happening is someday We just need to breathe through it Crying, yelling, laughing or just sitting through it Or just walking past it.

Blissfully inhaled and exhaled

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