real poem – Unabridged Manuscripts

I don’t know how it started,
Or where it started exactly.
I don’t remember how we got here,
It feels like yesterday though.
I don’t recall the moment I let you in,
I don’t recognize who I’ve become now.

All I know is this-
It was casual.
Free, not coerced at all.
It just flowed out of us, perhaps.
Then, we called it friendship.
We shook on it,
We did, didn’t we?
It, then, just flowed.
We let it become,
What it has become.

Who cares about beginnings anyway?
What matters is now, right?
Because, now only matters.

You let me in-
I’m not peeking through holes anymore,
The same way you’re not watching me through a peephole.
We opened the doors of our mind
And fear is right behind us,
For both of us-
I think we surpassed it though,
Now we’re at the gate of the puzzle,
Getting closer, every day!

Whatever we are now,
Friends, best friends may be.
Far more than acquaintance, definitely.
A bit less than family, I guess.
I don’t want us to become reminiscences.
I don’t want “now” to become a memory of a kind.
I don’t want us to recall moments-
Spots, jokes we laughed at-
Which by the way I didn’t get at first(the jokes),
The long walks we had,
Strange imaginations we shared,
Weird thoughts and ideas we had.

See, this is what I don’t want us to be.
I don’t want us to be some sort of treasured memory.
I want us to remain,
Like this,
Like now!
Me rolling my eyes,
You hmmm’ing at what I say.
I wish it would be a constant.

Although, they say change is the only constant,
In this dynamic universe.
I don’t want us to change.
I want us to grow.
I can’t tell where that’s,
I can’t pinpoint it on a map.
But I want us to grow into a bliss,
So then, we won’t become reminiscence.

To special someone, you know who you're😊💛💛

Most people think or assume-
Scars are the symbol of weakness.
A loss of self control,
Or just a bad memory,
Or traumas- huge unbearable traumas!
Rarely, some consider it as a fashion.
Enraged hormones perhaps.
Of course, there’s some truth to that
Then, they blame it on the generation.
Ah! This generation!
As far as I know-
Generation is a fruit.
A fruit of previous one.
But sure, blame it on us.

For me though,
Scars are a lot of things.
First, they are speakers-
Loud speakers of the anguish inside,
Resurfacing of pain on the outside.

Scars are beautiful!
Beautiful marks given for survivors.
It means you fought the battle-
And actually won!
So, medals for a brave person-
After such an intense emotional war.
You survived,
You’re still here, existing!

Scars could be anything, but not mistakes,
They’re not just dead tissues.
They’re beautiful,
Not like make ups, of course.
So much better than make ups actually,
Or dry inks even.
Scars are gorgeous,
Perfect in their own way.
They speak louder than words.
They can be seen more than tears.
They can be heard more than screams.
They mimic the immense pain!

So for me, my scars-
Made me who I am today!
I’m rather proud than ashamed.
They manifest the battles I survived.
If you wanna judge, go ahead and judge.
You can’t make me ashamed though,
You can’t make me embarrassed.
They are my proudest clothin’
I wore them everyday,
With pride and bravery.
My scars- my beautiful clothes!

Inspired by my one and only feminist friend, the first audience of my works, who encouraged me to write and the first person to make me feel ease about my scars. Very grateful my dear❤,you know who you’re 🙂

Dedicated to:
All those who struggle with self harming in any form. Remember, you have scars means, you’ve survived it. Proud of you!!

Tag: real poem

Reminiscence

My Scars!