I realise how I haven't looked up the sky in a while now

Is it still the same color it used to be

Or maybe a muddled grey

I need to fall in love again.

Not Guilty.

I'm innocent

You stamped on me
Razed me down
A genocide of my self
I gasped and cried help
You shut the door and the windows 
Tighter than ever
I'm innocent 
I cried
But it seemed to upset you even more
A rebuking nobody
How could I ?
I am innocence
I wrote in blood
Excited, you smiled as I drained it all
A crimson artwork befitting a desiccated lump
I'm innocent 
Said the salty trails on my face
You mistook it for a daring
Now my eyes run dry
I'm still innocent
For I think i would still love you
But that heart of mine
You consumed the other day
I'm. Just. 

The Onset Of Homecoming.

Slow mornings, ginger filler air and tea brewing a boiling red.
The suffocating quilts, heavy but oh so warm !
A familiar touch on the forehead - "Good morning , get up and have tea," she says.
So predictable and comforting.
So uncomplicated the living.
So less the words and such simple interpretations.
These small hill town joys.
I yearn for home.

For my musings are not literature, not even close.

They are mere reflections, characterless

Of the life that I lived, mediocre.

Compromised lovers and comfortable love stories.

A cheap book made into a cheaper film.

Salvation.

The cloud ministry finally brews magic

There are lovers holding hands watching out

there are broken hearts in it, crying

There are the whipped of heat, relaxing

And there is me, writing about you, me and the rain

Rain Alone.

Do u hear it too ?

Can you feel it ? 

Its soft and misty

It whistles mildly like a distant mountain wind

Like a statement of muted luxury

Its there, pouring and busy.

Two summers passed by, dry.

Its only now that the monsoon makes sense.

But you are not there by my side.

Come home soon.

Looking Out.

Dwellings so high

For me rain is just a fleeting emotion

Silver strands in the air

I’m jealous of the ground

Its receives the rain

The wet sweet pain

The generous gods pierce it

To feel and split and melt away

It would be nice
To not be oneself for a moment

Rain Therapy.

Pour it down hard on the crusty land

Tear it open by the wet slivers

Reveal what has been untouched unfelt

Its only rain that can seep into corners and crevices

Its only rain that can touch

The most dried of eves

The most shallow of minds

And the most closed up hearts

Pour it down

Pour it out
Breathe.