one-eyed-buck - Tumblr blog

[one-eyed-buck]

And maybe I'd write you a letter once more -

You know, the kind with sloppy writing,

And a smudge of ink around the corner,

So you believe I rushed through this as well.

But you'd still read it, I know.

You'd read it slowly, reading between the lines,

Cause that's what you've done with me -

Reading between the lines.

And I wish I read your eyes more -

More than I listened to you, at least.

Maybe then I'd have noticed what you never said,

Maybe then I'd have noticed how you looked at me.

It's all just a bunch of what-ifs, and maybe-s now.

But if time could speak, or the walls could write,

It would've been a pretty piece of art -

You, me, some nonsense, and some love hidden within it.

Some love - how we used to quantify love, remember?

All our theories of right and wrong, love and hate,

They are just memoirs you don't remember anymore,

And the ashes of the past I don't speak of now.

But I promised I'd write more, I'd write to you -

I'd write to you even though the letter will never reach you on time.

[one-eyed-buck]

And I write more often now -

Almost every night, or most atleast.

You liked that about me, didn't you?

But I stopped, thinking I gave it up.

Funny how it now stares me in the face -

No art was ever made without putting a mask on pain.

That's how it always is - turning grief into beauty,

Reminiscing about the depths of the colour red,

While it was plain, old blood all along.

I will write more now, consciously, intentionally,

Not because I feel blue, or yellow, or black,

And not because you loved that about me.

But because that's who I was before you,

And that's who I'll always be, regardless.

[one-eyed-buck]

I opened up my old drawer today -

It reminded me of the cracked wood noises you'd hate.

Found a rose, crushed inside a book,

And a broken cigarette that I almost lit that day.

You promised to replace my addiction,

With something sweeter and healthier.

I tried to find your lips within the pages,

Only your smell I could figure out from there.

.

You often said you liked what I wrote

So I wrote more and more since then,

Maybe the idea of you had replaced you,

By the time I finished writing some more.

.

I sought closure, as the GenZs say these days,

But life isn't a book, and love ain't a rose

That is, if it was love we had for each other,

No, I don't mean to make it sound cheap,

What we did on that cold december night,

But I always assumed it would be your skin on mine,

Till I could no longer care about the sense of touch.

.

Maybe you were a bit cruel, or I was a little naive.

Who knows, maybe the time just wasn't right.

We've parted ways, on not particularly good terms,

But I hope you're happier now, than I last knew you to be.

And somewhere deep down I know you wish that for me too.

Isn't that the point of whatever terms we put on what we had

To be happy, even after death does us apart?

[one-eyed-buck]

We only met at crossroads

Like a lily on a misty morning, you bloom —

Like how the moonlight fills my dark room,

How I wish for you to be my doom —

"Fifth of tenth", etched on my tomb.

We met at crossroads, it's true,

Always parallel lines - never through,

But the universe, in its timely brew,

Made sure I was never feeling blue.

For you only want something so much,

If you already know it's yours to touch,

In this life, or in some other's smudge,

Alas, the tragedy of love is such.

In dreams you come, and I sleep so well,

If you could hear the stories I'd tell,

Of dragons slain, and the princess' tale,

How I ended up in paradise, but on a bail.

[one-eyed-buck]

The One that Arrives.

Theoretically, it's simple. If you don't heal yourself, change your negative traits, pull out the poison from your veins, you could never be the best version of yourself. Now some people might argue, "What's the point?". And usually, these people are the ones who were once unlucky in love, in friendship, or in any other form of a relationship. It's their pain that speaks from within.

.

But that's the comical irony life throws at you. It is at your lowest point, that you should rise up above it - above yourself. It's not easy - to work towards yourself, at the things that don't seem to matter from a nearsighted point of view. It doesn't seem to matter if you don't know the right way to love, unless you have a lover, right?

*Scoffs*

The very point of a lonely existence is to see, to witness the mess you are. It is a time for introspection, see yourself in a mirror and know all the places you've been scratched from. It's important, you see, to find your shortcomings, and finding the courage to face yourself when you're at your lowest.

.

Once in everyone's lifetime, there comes a person, so perfect, that you could blend in their aura. You could be walking around, so full of yourself that not a single soul strikes you off as interesting, or worth the time. But it is at exactly those times, that you realise the poetic brilliance of the universe. You see them, and all the monotonic absurdity of the world renews into a coloured paradise. But alas, the question remains - are you the best version of yourself to deserve this prized possession that was yours to be from the beginning of time?

.

It's urgently necessary to know who you want to be, even before you realise why you want to be that person. The universe plays its cards in the most perfect way - just at the right time and at the right place. The question remains - did you play along your cards right to be exactly where you're supposed to be? You get one shot at it. If you did correct yourself without the prior need to do so, then yes, you have a chance at a happy ending. But if you didn't - it's a tragedy.

[one-eyed-buck]

"When I let a day go by without talking to you, that day's just no good."

~ Barney Stinson (HIMYM)

[one-eyed-buck]

So you ask yourself, "Why are you feeling this way?". The answer is quite surprising though - stunned silence. But that silence rings in your ears, all around your house, your city, and the entire universe. The daunting realisation that you don't know what's wrong with you makes you wonder what you even know about anything, if you don't know yourself well enough?

[one-eyed-buck]

And on some nights, I come undone - split apart into a million pieces. I cry a little - at the world's cruelty and my own. But at times like those, it is important to be my own supporter, give myself reassurance that the sun will rise again, and I will be reincarnated once more from the ashes of my own being.

(20/03/2024)

[one-eyed-buck]

Khud raakh ban kar, aag se shikayat karte ho?

Khair, jalaane wale se kyun khafa hona?

Jalna toh tum bhi chahte ho.

[one-eyed-buck]

I waged some wars to live so free, //I fought some more, to save a tree. //Its flowers and leaves had me in love, //In my chaotic world, it felt like a dove. //From ashes I rose, when I saw death near, //Looked up to the tree, when I was filled with fear. //But one day I sat to count its leaves, //Few were they, taken away by thieves. //Counted on my fingers - one, two three, //But as I counted, faded away - the tree. //Four, five, six, and the years went by, //Seemed like the tree waved a goodbye. //I had to flee, for I had myself to build, //Learn to fight demons, and a sword to yield. //But I hope to return, and when I do, //I know I'll have the seventh leaf to count too.

[one-eyed-buck]

Aur jab saari dostiyaan toontne lagi,

Hum soch baithhe hum shayad dost hi achha nahi hai.

Par ab yaaron ka saath mila toh pata chala,

Kambakht dost chunne mein sahi nahi thhey hum pehle.

~ (a day of conspiracy theories, broken laptops, and cheap cigarettes.)

[one-eyed-buck]

Aur agar miloge tum kabhi,

Shayad itra ke chale jayenge hum bhi,

Jaise na dekha thha tumhe, na jaana thha kabhi.

Par yeh baatein bhi toh beet gayein hai arson pehle,

Jab sapne sunhyare thhey, aur sapno mein tum -

Fir kya huwa unn waadon ka? Kaha ho gayein woh guhm?

.

Aur agar miloge tum kabhi,

Shayad gale laga lenge tumhe ek aur baar -

Khair galti dono ki hi sahi, maafi maang lenge ek aur baar.

Aaj ki raat bhi chamak rahi hai chaand ki roshni mein,

Par fir bhi goonjti kyu hai tumhari awaz jaise ho koi sur?

Kyu Aaj Chand zyada paas lagta hai, aur tum usse bhi zyada door?

[one-eyed-buck]

Par iss sannate mein bhi kuch tanha sa hai,

Ghar se duur hoke pata chala, Ghar jannat sa hai.

Ab iss bhid bhaad ki duniya mein, kaun hai samjhane wala?

Jo puche do ansu ponchke, 'Kyun tu itna tanha sa hai?'

Kisi Roz sheher ko dekhte they apni khidki se hum bhi,

Pata na thha tab, taur-tareeke hai aise bhi Jo hum na jaante,

Ammi ki aanchal se nikle toh mushkile dikhi pehli baar,

Ab pata chala woh sab bhi kyun bhagwaan mein hai maante.

[one-eyed-buck]

"And sometimes, winning the fight is just surviving long enough for it to be over."

[one-eyed-buck]

But what are we in this world?

The alcoholics, the substance abusers by night,

And the workaholics by day.

We, who put in every drop of sweat,

Not afraid to take down challenges, however big they may be.

But also, we, who lie like a slob, with half a joint,

With a pint of beer, or with a smoke behind the ear.

Are we the villains the world speaks about?

Or are we the villains that everyone is, behind closed doors?

[one-eyed-buck]

The stars twinkle by my window tonight,

I sit and drool on a heap of mess.

Counting the stars that shine so bright,

I find my life to be meaningless.

.

If only I knew better, if only I knew more,

I'd believe in the course of life.

I'd know it takes skill to make art,

I'd know it takes time to sharpen even a knife.

.

But somehow someday I'll get out of here,

To build myself, and everything I see myself to be.

Because in a whole world of changing variables,

The only constant, is me.

~ (And one day I'll be good enough to read this without disappointment.)

[one-eyed-buck]

And I've broken a pen too many, // To not write you a letter about myself.

~ ("Some stories you tell, most you don't.")