Author Archives: Nisha Arudra

WO

I am no more a man than you, save for a WO

All that means is a difference just like you

Yet I’m dice, in the numbers you decide

To rape me and leave, or thrust me to kill

You come in many, with rods and rackets

To push in the pain and pull out my veins

Till the dull stakes are a mangled mess

Filling in me the grime of gratitude

For killing my womb, leaving no chance

To ever birth any more like you

Musings From A Rainy Afternoon

I’m deceitful enough to believe you’re no one’s but mine

But then you are

When you pour down in all your fury

I see no one but you

And I know you drench no one but me.

I’m deceitful enough to believe our love story is one of it’s kind

And it is

When we are together nothing else matters

I have you and you have me

And we have our endless stories.

I’m deceitful enough to say I’ll love you in my own terms

Sometimes making you beat relentlessly

On the forte of glass I’ve built

And sometimes simply walking into you

Letting you have your way with me.

I’m deceitful enough to believe I care less when you walk away

Even when I burn inside

Knowing how enslaved I am

To your beauty sometimes vicious

Sometimes divine.

I’m deceitful, and I don’t care

For when you come, you come for me

And sketch a fantasy of eternity

Of us forever holding our hands

And watching the world go by.

I’m In Love With My Incomplete Life

Life is so incomplete

And I’m in love with it.

There is always that little something

A missing jigsaw piece

A poem incomplete

A novel half read

Yet I do not regret

I’m in love

I’m in love with my incomplete life.

There is always that folksy someone

An uncertain ‘see-you-later’

A dialogue flawed halfway

A wit not caught

Yet I do not regret

I’m in love

I’m in love with my incomplete life.

There is always that special place

A Bohemian dream never seen

An idyllic blue calling again

A native green rushing by

Yet I do not regret

I’m in love

I’m in love with my incomplete life.

There is always that delicate heartstring

A flaming bond, fiery red,

An unrequited love, spoken unspoken

A brimming silence, lost words

Yet I do not regret

I’m in love

I’m in love with my incomplete life

There is always a little more,

A hope, a smile, a touch, a dial,

A little more to reach out for

A little more to live out for

A little incompleteness, a little more

And I’m so much in love

In love with my incomplete life