Can you teach me to unlove?

Everywhere I look -
I see the grey clouds romancing the horizon;
paper boats sailing happily in puddles;
a young couple holding hands;
a lipstick-stained rim of a half-empty coffee mug;
dew-covered pink flowers smothered with mud;
everywhere I look the planet is spelling love
and I think of him.

Everything I hear -
the crickets calling out at night;
the thunder guarding the sky;
a similar honk of his bike;
the sound of rain kissing the soil;
everything I hear is reminding me of so many - yesterdays
and I think of him.

There are poets preaching love;
artists spreading love through
the strings of the guitar
or the strokes of their brushes
or the jingle of the ghungroo-s..
there are how-to books on love!

But, I'm running away
from the memories,
from the yesterdays,
from him.
I don't want to love him,
can you teach me to unlove?

Blind date with my job!

Butterscotch walls
and a hundred desktops,
Formally dressed in
Painfully high heels,  no flip flops.

I walk in with my heart in my mouth
All self consolations rapidly heading south.
Self doubts grow and choke me like climbers
The fire in me dying down to embers.

I take a seat
Trying to hide my trembling feet
Waiting for whosoever is to come
Ticktacking on my phone and chewing gum.

He arrives at last
With an unpleasant blast
He hasn't even started
And the inner me has already retreated.

I want to run away before
The onset of the rain
But for a little monetary gain,
I will subject myself to this mental pain.

But maybe if I ran away now
I would never learn how
This works,
Maybe I would like it
Maybe I wouldn't,
But how much time is
Enough time?
I hope I understand
Before I burn down to sand.

I know that I will see you - again.

It happens too rarely

in Life that we are sure

of certain things.
Neither reason works 

nor logic,

there is no paradigm;

but the complex workings

of the heart have rarely

followed a pattern.

I am uncertain of my tomorrows;

an identity crisis haunting me;

there aren't many things that

I am sure about - except this one.

Don't ask me why or how

For I don't know that now..

But out of all my unknowns,

I know that I will see you - again.

Someday, somewhere -

and I know I would still care.

It could be tomorrow when the sky is uneven

or it could be years until we are sixty-seven.

It could be your favorite blue tee under the pines

or it could be your cane with laughter lines.

It could be a coffee shop

or a mall or the airport;

or it could be the same place 

where I had seen you last - 

across the road.

But I hope I see you later,

much later -

when were both stronger,

smarter and better;

because if I see you now,

I might fall for you again

and you will wash over me 

like the gentle rain.

Don't ask me why or how

For I don't know that now..

But out of all my unknowns,

I know that I will see you - again.

Patch me Up

The diffused sunlight spills
onto my palms as if saying
their final goodbyes,
it will be a long time
before this sunshine
touches my skin again.

I had come in
with a heavy heart
because I had to leave
home to be here;
I leave tomorrow
with a heavier heart
because I am
leaving home - again.

I leave with the intention
of coming back,
with holes in my soul
and I know you will
patch me up.
You will heal me
and one day,
I will become
this diffused sunlight
spilling on somebody's palms.

Hole in your Soul

It's weird to bid farewell
for you can never tell
if this would be the last time
that you see them with the
fire in their eyes,
that you hear them laugh,
that you share a coffee or a joke
or that you hold them close.

It's weird because
you think you are ready
for the parting;
but you are never really
ready for the impact.
You leave behind so many people,
so many places, and
so many pieces of you -
each one burning a hole
in your very soul.

And when you are really far
and when you look within
your soul will look like a nebula -
the holes lighting up from within
like stars in the night sky.
Because even when you part
they stay - stay in these lit-up holes.

Their light will remind you of
the laughter lines,
and bygone times.
You will be incomplete
and yet, sublime.

Uncertain lights.

How do you know
which way to go
when all roads
are covered in snow?
The air is foggy
and the light is scattered;
who knows what they shine upon.

Every decision demands
a review, calls for a cross-check
The signs change, the years wear
and nobody cares.

The only rope I hang
on to, is the hope
that one day everything will sort out
and things will be okay;
where the larks of the dark
give way to the light of a new day.

Looking for answers

These questions that call out to you
in the dark hours of nights,
where are their answers hidden?

These roads that have no signposts
where are they headed?

These pages that are yellowing with time
what happens after they decay?

These beams of moonlight that are streaming in
through the gap in the clouds,
what are they enlightening?

These questions that never cease,
these doubts that burn holes in my mind,
can you help me find these answers?