Love Writing - Blog Posts

My Body: A Crime Scene

I was told the body is a temple. I was taught to treat my body like a temple. Sacred, Holy, somewhere God resides, somewhere a person can be at peace. But with time, the sacrality has begun to fade. It has become a realm of my internal demons, something sinister.

My body is now more of a crime scene than a temple.

I've put up barricade tapes around me. Of bright "when life gives you lemon" yellow and black. A cautionary measure for the lighthearted.

Some understand and stay away.

Others push right through like the case now belongs to them.

They say they've seen this before.

They say no amount of gore can keep them away.

They say they'll take care of it.

Only to realize it's bloodier than they could've imagined.

Multiple fingerprints, Multiple footprints: An evidence marker placed for every person I let walk all over me, and for every person, I gave my heart only for them to poke my wounds.

Blood: Numerous splatters, but all mine.

Weapons: Some sticks and stones, knives that I willingly handed over hoping they'd protect me, now covered in my blood and, a pen.

Many witnesses: Either dumb or hostile.

Signs of arson: Ashes of everything I burnt down. Pictures, letters, broken promises, false hopes, unfulfilled dreams.

And now, all that's left of me is a chalk outline. Everything else faded, picked apart or withered away.

My body is not a temple anymore. It isn't sacred or pure.

It's not a place I can stand barefoot.

It's now a place where I need a hazmat suit and gloves.

LET'S STAY IN

A few more days let's stay in,

Read a book or play violin.

Though how long is uncertain,

This too shall pass, that's certain.

Binge your favourite TV show,

Or adopt a dog, so you can watch him grow.

Stay up all night then wake up late,

And enjoy your cup of hot chocolate.

Make biryani, bake a pie,

Or paint a picture and watch it dry.

Call that friend who cares for you,

And watch the sky in brilliant hues.

A few more days let's stay in,

Later you can go trek mountain.

Though how long is uncertain,

This too shall pass, that's certain.

(30.10.20)

love.

love feels like a dark rainy day in the forest.

love feels like hands doused in paint, desperate to create art, to create, to show how you feel.

love feels like trembling hands begging to touch, to be saved from the darkness.

love feels like a dark rainy day on a deserted beach.

love feels like treading water in an ocean while it rains.

love feels like sweet torment of a blade against your skin, drawing blood.

love feels like drowning in a dark abyss.

love feels like emptiness and wholeness at the same time.

love feels like jumping off a mountain.

love feels like an eclipse.

love feels like hands doused in blood.

love feels like death.

A Letter to Love -kalika

Loved

i want you, i need you. infact, i can't live without you. i crave your touch that i never got to experience. i want your lips on mine, a comforting notation to our love.

until

everything turned from present to past.

i wanted you, i needed you. infact, i couldn't live without you. i craved your touch that i never got to experience. i wanted your lips on mine, a comforting notation to our love.

you didn't love me, you kept up the act well though. in the end you didn't try hard to keep me, in fact i believe you wanted to get rid of me as soon as you realized how boring i was. as in boring i mean, pushing you to be better, pushing you to reach out, allowing you to cry and having me listen to your weeps.

i think you loved me, but not enough.

~ m.n.