My First Love Letter

Dear Lover,
This is my first attempt at putting you into words. Forgive me if it is not emotional enough, not lyrical enough, not poetry enough- for you love all I write yet all I write is never you enough.
It never will be.
Nothing ever will be.
Maybe the poets of history were all lost travellers, trying to write their way home and never realising every stroke of their pen would just take them a mile farther, for this love led them to verse, just like it brought me here, and this love ridiculed the insufficiency of their minds, just as it stands here and laughs at mine.
What can I do, my love? You are made of more than these symbols they have named the alphabet, hand crafted of more than just skin, bones and your beautiful soul.
You have been made of laughter and twinkling eyes, of hope, of feathers, of dusty pages and assurances everything will be fine.
You have been made of libraries, of superhero movies and children’s smiles, of coffee, of chocolate, and shining lights.
You have been made of music, my love, each corner of you a different note, each mood another melody- and when I hold your hand, try to hum along, I look at you and realise you are a song.
For you are more than these symbols they have named the alphabet.
You are a spell, an enchantment, and every time you say another stupid thing, every time you make another stupid joke, every time you tell me you’re the best and secretly doubt yourself inside, that’s every time the word ‘magic’ comes to mind.
I do not know, my love, if you requite me, if you reciprocate, but as the question mark disappears somewhere in a blob that’s heart shaped, I realise-
I do not care.
I do not care in the least for you’re my best friend, and that’s what matters, you’re going to stick by till the end, and that’s what matters.
My love, we spent an entire evening once, just talking of chocolate and making funny faces, and though someday I hope you will take me in your arms and though someday I hope the world will be ours, nothing will be as beautiful as those few shared laughs, nothing will be more delicious than those chocolate bars.
I do not know where we are going, my dear, do not know where we will end up, but it is a promise I make to you, a promise of forever- not of friendship, not of care, not of love or of loyalty- it is a promise of memory.
I do not know where we are going, my dear, I do not know where we will end up, but once upon a time we had it all and once upon a time  we were whole, once upon a time we redefined loyalty, once upon a time we built our own eternity, and this is a promise of forever- they may all forget, but I will
always,
always,
always
remember.

Yours,
Until the very end,
Hima.

Something you’ll never know:

This is for you.
Yes, you, my best friend, my soulmate, the person I spend all my free time and most of my work time with.
You, whose house is just like mine and whose mother is just like mine and your sister is family and you’re everything I need to make me smile.
This for you, the pillar, the laugh, the hug, the smile that stares out of every selfie I take and the one sentence that always completes what I’m saying.
This is for you, because you will not be expecting this.
This is for you, because you didn’t realise as my smile in your selfies became just a little forced and my endless chatter became just a little subdued, you were too busy looking in another direction to notice the hint of sadness in my hugs that stayed warm as ever, maybe you were too preoccupied to be able to listen to the sound of my voice and know something was amiss.
Yes, you didn’t notice,you didn’t know, you didn’t see, but how could I blame you?
Your vision has been taken up by photographs of him, your attention by daydreams of the day he will love you back, and your heart too busy hyperventilating at his name to skip a beat when I tell you I love you.
I know, the last thing I should be is jealous and I know, I should rejoice at your love and let its beauty touch my soul, and I know this is selfish of me but baby, I won’t ask you to paint pictures of me in your heart like you do his, but oh, please don’t forget how I look.
You’ve been thinking about him a lot these days, ever since you found out he’s taken, ever since you’ve known his secret, but you didn’t cry, no , you didn’t sob, there was so much anxiety, so much fear, but wow, I didn’t see a single tear. You’ve been so mature, been so good, you say your feelings will never change and I know they won’t, you say nothing can break this love and I know you’re right, but when we came to you to give you the gift we bought you together, I do wish you’d looked at me, and when you stuffed cake in his mouth, yes, I was on a diet, but hey, I wish you had tried.
I remember when I asked you where you were, and you said you were with him, I heard the laugh in your voice, the laugh he brings and I never can, the way he can rescue you without even trying, I know the love is true, I know he’s right for you, but since he’s not realised, I wish you’d open your eyes, I wish you’d look elsewhere and you’d see that even I care.
Hey, I’m not jealous and I never will be, you’re my favourite and always will be, but perhaps if you looked back for a change, walked on the other side of the lane, maybe then you’d know, I do love you so.
This is something you’ll never know, the prick in my heart when you talk so fondly to him and look at me with exasperation, that rumble in my tummy I get when you write him unending letters and tell me you don’t like writing for people, I don’t think you’ll ever know how it felt when you told me you sent him a seven line thank you message for something we did as a team, and all I got was the three words out of pure courtesy.
Yes, you’ll never know how it feels and my sister told me it’s normal, love feels that way and I’m sure she’s right, but hey, now I know why they said love was blind.
Because this is something you’ll never know, something you’ll never understand, but you know me like the back of your hand, or used to at least, so perhaps you’ll remember, perhaps you’ll realise, if he’d written this you’d have read this thrice but I doubt you got to the end, please, tell me I’m wrong, I’d be so glad if you told me I’m wrong, bestfriend.
Just to remind you, you will always be my soul, you will always make me whole, you are my life and that’s what you’ll stay, someday I’ll fall in love but he’ll never come in the way. He may be your best friend but you will always be mine, and hey awesome person, I will love you till the end of time.

Letter to my Best Friend’s Boyfriend

Hey, there. Let me tell you, although you know it already, that I happen to be your girlfriend’s best friend, and let me tell you, so you begin to make it your rule of thumb already, that you do not mess with me.
By ‘mess with me’,  I think it’s obvious that I mean ‘mess with her.’
It was two days ago when you came up to my friend, roses in hand, a touching letter tucked away in the bouquet, a cup of vanilla ice cream and just one thing to ask her.
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
Of course, she said yes. I say ‘of course’ because I have seen how she’s loved you. I have seen her go red at the cheeks when you touch her, even by mistake, and I have helped her interpret those mysterious double sided messages you so loved sending her. I happen to be the one who has been by her side, watching as she went from ‘like’ to ‘crush’ to ‘love’, the recipient of all those sideward glances when I even mentioned somebody but you. I have seen that unflinching loyalty she had towards you, it was for you and you only, and now it is time I tell you that you had better treasure it. 
It is high time. 
It is high time because now you’ve said your words and she’s said hers, now you belong to each other and now she will show you all that love she has for you in her heart so I had better remind you to love her back. 
I know you love her back. Yes, you obviously do and that’s obviously why you asked her in the first place, but let me remind you. Yes, I believe in you and I believe in her and I believe in both of you for I know what you like and what she loves and I know you and I know her, and I know your love, but let me remind you.
Let me remind you that she is a simple person with simple needs and simple wants. She will seldom ask you for anything but your time, so give her those few hours and a few surprises. Buy her little childish toys because you know how she loves them and buy her chocolate and buy her ice cream, lots of ice cream, don’t forget the ice cream because you remember she would die for it. 
Let me remind you that she’s the only one who stands a chance of beating you at football and solving the brain-wracking clues you make those little treasure hunts with, and she’s the only one who will sit with you and help you learn that biology chapter you hate and later treat you with a cake she baked herself after you failed to concentrate or cooperate because she understands how much you hate to study.
Let me remind you that she will grunt and grumble and scold, she will call you an idiot and a monkey and a donkey, she will bicker with you, argue, call you names and just as you are wondering what’s going wrong, she’ll buy you some toffee and remind you how much she loves you.
Let me remind you to love her back. 
Let me remind you to buy her lovely gifts on her birthday, to take selfies with her and post funny things on Facebook, because you know how much she loves it when you tag her in all those silly pictures. Let me remind you to put your arm around her sometimes, to sing her a song sometimes, to dance hand in hand sometimes, and to buy her ice cream, lots of ice cream, don’t forget the ice cream because you  know she would die for it.
That’s the only thing she would die for, besides you, and if you ever fail to remember that, please ask me to remind you once more, but that reminder won’t be as easy as this one. 
Call it a warning, if you will, call it a threat, or simply the love of a crazy friend, but know, know and remember, every scar you inflict on her heart will be a wound I stab in your body. 
Remember how I don’t stay too far away from your house anyway, and even if I did, I am more than willing to drive there. Remember that if you break her heart, I will not hesitate to break your face. Remember that someone I love has loved you, trusted you, and I expect you to be worthy of that trust. Remember how a mother bird will peck at you in self defense, but tear your flesh away when you dare to touch its offspring and remember, I am her mother bird, and I will not let you go alive.
I will not kill you, but trust me honey,  your life will never be the same again.
Of course, your life WILL never be the same again. The girl who loves you is someone I love more than my life, and you will never know like I do how lucky you are to have her. She is a real princess, be a real prince, and I promise, the fairytale you write will be better than all the ones we read. She is the one I have spent all my days with, all my nights talking to, and now that you are going to take those hours from me, let me tell you they have been the best hours of my life. 
Let me promise you that I will help you be a better man, just as I have helped her be a better lady. I will help your relationship, I will sort your fights and plan your dates. I will write poetry for you, for her, about you, about her, and about what both of you share. I will chat midnights when you run out of conversation, I will be the third wheel you never want but often need, just to show you where to start, where to stop, how to go, where to be. 
I will be there. 
It is my promise I will be there, and I hope you will, too. Give her all you have and more, do all you can and more, because darling, my friend’s a diamond and she deserves to feel like one. 

What do I call her?

For she is made of heart and she is made of soul.
She will smile to herself, dream out loud and as she peeks into possibilities of fantasy that spill so invariably into reality, she will remember that there is a life waiting to be lived.
She will look at the world and laugh, laugh with its beauty, laugh with its charm and as she jumps into the air and rejoices at human potential, she will remember that there is a universe waiting to be loved. 
For she is made of heart and she is made of soul.
She will stare at the sun and she will count the clouds, and as she chases the stars hoping to catch a twinkle and ride it to her daydreams, she will notice another wonderful thing her reality gives her and she will decide to stay for one more day. 
She will pour out her musings as if they were were fluttering in their cages begging to be let out, and if you watch carefully you can spot those colourful aspirations flying by overhead, and when she stops to watch their ascent and waves gleefully to an expression of her hopes, she will begin to believe in magic all over again. 
For she is made of heart and she is made of soul.
She can hear her heartbeat in the waves and she can feel her soul in the setting sun, she sees her reflection in the moon and as she pulls back her hair and pins it with a star, she knows the world is a song and life is music, and all you really need to do to love is to listen. 

Of Drinking Chocolate and Feeling It

Sometimes I wonder why
when people say beverage, they only imagine
intoxicating smells of coffee
and cupfuls of tea. 
Because when they talk of the caffeinated goodness they find,
I think they don’t know
that I will always be loyal to
my cup of cocoa. 

For my hot chocolate is more than just a drink. 

My hot chocolate is the times I’m in tears because nothing ever lasts forever and neither does my cup of joy but I when it’s over I merely smack my lips and I know I’ll make an even better concoction someday. 
My hot chocolate is the warm assurance that things that seem to burn and hurt are often wonderful but that’s only when they cool down and everything has a right time and nothing’s as delicious as the correct timing. 
My hot chocolate is the childish pleasure in a large mature mug that adults love because that’s just what life is about, balancing childhood and growing up because one is nothing without the other and I am nothing without them both.
My hot chocolate is the realization that we all need to be comforted sometimes but we don’t always need a crowd of people or a purseful of money and a few sips of shelter can make even the most serious issues a little bit better.
My hot chocolate is the reminder that it’s never too late and even 3 a.m. is a good time to treat yourself because I deserve good things and I need not wait for anyone else to give me surprises for the internet is brimming with ways to give them to myself and I just need to learn to look to be able to find. 
My hot chocolate is proof that so often there’s no one right way and this world is overflowing with variety that now so much is correct and so little is wrong and the other day I put some ice cream inside my cup and now I remember that sometimes the most unlikely combinations work the best.
My hot chocolate can be one I wake up to or the one I go to bed with or even my friend during my evening exam revision but in the end I remember that happiness is not an unattainable goal I’m looking for and can’t find but just a few chocochips and just a happy taste that lingers in my mouth. 

Because my hot chocolate is much more than a drink.

My hot chocolate is the glue that holds me together when I’m broken and my hot chocolate is the lubricant which pushes me to go faster. My hot chocolate is my silent evenings spent writing poetry and my hot chocolate is the chaotic family gatherings and my hot chocolate is every day I spent with it and every day without. My hot chocolate is a hater, a lover, my unrequited love that secretly flirts with me through glass walls sometimes. My hot chocolate is my most loved contradiction, my most searched word on Google and my most treasured fifteen minutes of my day for everyone deserves to have a conversation with a lover every day and this one is mine. 

Letter to my Hopeless Crush

Dear hopeless crush,
I wish I could be addressing this directly to you and I wish I could be proudly writing your name above, copying this letter, and pasting it into your chatbox. 
I wish I didn’t have to use a public forum to tell you what I have to tell you and I wish this wasn’t a shout into the void because that’s just what you hopeless crushes are. 
When they’re so hopeless and all they really end up doing is crushing you from inside because either you’re way out of my league or we’re too different or I’m simply too afraid to ruin what we have by trying to have more so crush is all you are and crush is all you’re gonna  be for as far as I can see.
You have no clue how you make my heart flutter and that shatters me. It shatters me how I still remember my reaction the last time you called me  pretty on text even though it was three months ago and you probably just mentioned it in passing like you mention the model numbers of cars and the names of movies and a particular actress who’s particularly amazing and who you think is perfect, probably a little like you sometimes resemble perfection to me. 
I have scrutinized every message you have sent me and I have played every word you have said back in my head hoping something would echo, and every time my friends point out how much they think you like me, I ask them to shut up because what annoys me is not their joke but even the momentary supposition that they could be right for that could get my hopes too high and when you broke them you’d break me and nothing would ever be the same again. 
I am so fond of being the brave one,  the independent young girl who doesn’t need a boy to validate her existence and it’s true I do not need you to validate my existence but maybe my existence would be a teensy bit better if you were a bigger part of it. 
I know I sound grumbly and I know you will ask me why I never told you before but all I want to tell you is that every time you send me those songs I imagine you singing them to me and I have woven a million and one little pleasant dreams about a million and one different ways you will tell me you love me back but I have to jolt myself back to reality every time and I hope this time, this one time or this one, will be the one when the dream
will be reality and I won’t have to wake up. 
Of course, I realize there are so few chances of that happening which is why I call you the hopeless crush but this letter goes out to you anyway as a promise that I will be here as long as I live and maybe one day it won’t be so hopeless anymore or maybe one day you won’t be my crush anymore but I shall know that I tried telling you what I had to tell you because as they life is so short and as they say love is so tough and we seldom have more than one chance and baby, maybe we should use this one. 

Love Letter to Myself

She likes to laugh and crack stupid jokes and do absolutely strange things and even her teacher says she’s always been the eccentric one. 
That’s who she is, if you know her a little more than just by sight. 
The crazy little wreck with a very strange skill set who says unexpected things at unexpected times and is full of absolutely weird and useless snippets of knowledge and loves spewing them out. 
The person who is so quiet and calm when you see her but exchange a word and suddenly she’ll pour out everything to you and it’s strange how her definition of everything differs for every new person she meets. 
The one kid in class who says what she feels without giving a damn who judges her and talks to everyone but ends up talking to nobody but herself.
The earthquake that occurs when you say the things she loves or mention the things she hates and they’re so hilariously varied but she’ll defend her opinion like it’s her life, which it perhaps is, but then you show her the right kind of emotions and you’ll take those opinions and bend them too because if she’s vulnerable to anything, it’s words. 
The mad hare who won’t flinch when her best friends leave her side but cry a flood at the death of a fictional character because she found home in so many worlds other than her own and her kind of independence is a sort of emotional so she’ll never need a boyfriend or even a friend but she’ll want a family, a cup of coffee and a book. 
A kind of teenager who hardly fits the bill because she prefers chocolate to alcohol and would rather hang out in a library than a party, but when she’s alone she’ll dance like nobody is watching and even if the world came to watch, she wouldn’t stop because she’s busy with the one person who loves like nobody else and that’s herself. 
A dreamer who can hardly tie her own shoelaces but knows she’ll travel the world someday because that’s what she wants to do and who eats the way she wants despite the grams because she knows that smile is enough to keep her beautiful and a cup of steaming hot chocolate will always be worth the little bit of tummy that pops out when she wears a dress.
She’s a lover, a lover hopelessly in love with the world and with stars and with having her heart broken and watching it heal and she knows that things keep coming in the way but she’s going to find a rocket and shoot past because there’s always another conversation with a stranger left to have, another flavour of ice cream to try, and another new memory to add to that endless bag of treasure.

Guilty Loving at Sixteen

And I am writing this,
To remind myself,
Like they reminded me,
That loving is not what I need,
At sixteen. 
I am writing this,
So I capture all those memories of you,
Wrap them in words,
And throw them in the trash-
Presents from Reason,
To celebrate its victory over Feeling. 
For loving is not what I need,
At sixteen. 
My mornings are for sunshine,
Five minutes more,
And last-minute homework.
They are not for hurried calls,
Sleepy voices singing one another awake,
And remembering,
That I must see you after school today. 
For loving is not what I need,
At sixteen. 
My evenings are for parties,
For dressing up the best I can,
And laughing seamlessly at stupid jokes.
They are not for shared glasses of wine,
Getting lost in your eyes,
Or the minty taste of your lips,
As you bring them to mine. 
For loving is not what I need,
At sixteen. 
My midnights are for books,
Dark chocolate,
Ice cream,
And some sleep. 
They are not for late night messages,
Smiling over what you said,
Handwoven fantasies,
And lush red strawberries. 
For loving is not what I need,
At sixteen.

——————————–

I remember that morning I woke up crying,
And I didn’t remember why,
And I remember how it was just that one voice,
Which could make it right. 

I remember that one evening, I couldn’t walk another step,
Because something just didn’t feel okay,
And I remember how a pair of hands and a smile,
Held me tight till I was me again. 

I remember that one midnight, after the first funeral I attended,
And I couldn’t forget the horrors I had seen,
And I remember all the words someone wrote me,
And I remember all the joy someone brought me,
And I remember,
Loving is all that I need,
At sixteen.

Letter to the “Ex”

To the Ex,
It’s funny how time goes by. 
It’s as if I took a nap, and now when wake up, it’s been a year already. 
A year since you told me I was your life, and slowly convinced me into believing you were mine.
Rewind to that day I believed your lie,
Rewind to your charming messages. 
How meticulously you used my favourite quote from my favourite book to tell me you loved me. 
Rewind to how you swept me off my feet.
That first date when you bought me fries and I was enchanted because you knew exactly what I love. 
Rewind to that sexy voice on the phone.
Those favourite songs dedicated to me. 
Rewind to when I thought it was a fairytale and I’d found my prince. 
And then,
Forward. 

Forward to how you let me fall.
Forward to how you left me weeping for you on the bathroom floor at 4 a.m.
Forward to all the crying, when I heard my world fall apart. 
Forward to when I needed you, and all I had was your phone number, which I could never call again. 
Forward to you telling me I’d always have a ‘brother’ in you.
Don’t insult my brothers next time. 
Forward to all the poems I wrote for you. 
You never deserved them anyway.

Press the button again. 

Forward, to now. 

Now, after I’ve had a year without you. 
Now, after I’ve done all I wanted to.
Won.
Lost. 
Hurt.
Cried,
And survived.
Loved,
Laughed,
Lived a life. 
Without you. 

Forward to now,
When there’s so much that’s mine. 
When there are so many reasons to smile. 
When I’ve lived through the pain, alone.
When I’ve done all I wanted to, even with you gone. 

Forward to now,
When I’m happy, and I don’t need you
To keep me that way. 

Forward to now,
When I’ve built my world over,
When I’ve built it better,
And I couldn’t be gladder,

That you didn’t stay. 

Why Do I Write?

Because there are so many emotions
trapped inside me,
And they fight to get out.
Because there is a thunderstorm
brewing in my heart,
And it wants to pour
words.
—————————————————————-
Because I once met a girl who looked at the door-
All day.
Yet shied away every time it opened. 

Because a boy sat amongst the friends-
Never left their side,
Just so their laughs would engulf his sobs.

Because the young lady stayed up late,
Talking to strangers,
Touching herself and making it better. 

Because the homeless child on the road,
Finally found a meal,
And gave it all to the dog. 

Because the soldier, though in battle,
Heard his mother’s lullaby,
And fell soundly asleep. 

Because the woman in the old age home,
Made a friend there,
And found love all over again.

Because they took iPads to the tribes,
And smiles erupted everywhere;
Magic was real after all. 

—————————————————————-

Because the world is a wonder,
Waiting to be described. 
Because the mind is brimming with thoughts,
Waiting to be realized. 

Because paper screams to be written on,
Sentences demand weaving,

Because this poetry has always existed,
It is just the words, waiting to be revived. 

—————————————————————-