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WHEN LOVE ARRIVES

I knew exactly what love looked like
in seventh grade.
Even though I hadn’t met love yet
if Love had wondered into my homeroom,
I would’ve recognized him at first glance.
Love wore a hemp necklace.
I would’ve recognized her at first glance.
Love wore a tight french braid.
Love played acoustic guitar,
and knew all my favorite Beatles songs.
Love wasn’t afraid to ride the bus with me.

And I knew,
I just must be searching the wrong classrooms;
just must be checking the wrong hallways.
She was there, I was sure of it.
If only I could find him.

But when Love finally showed up,
She had a bullcut.
He wore the same clothes every day for a week.
Love hated the bus.
Love didn’t know anything about the Beatles.

Instead,
Everytime I tried to kiss Love,
our teeth got in the way.
Love because the reason I lied to my parents.
I’m going to… Ben’s house
Love had terrible rhythm on the dance floor,
but made sure we never missed a slow song. 
Love waited by the phone,
because she knew if her father picked up
it would be, (heavy breathing)
“Hello, hello… I guess they hang up.”

And Love grew…
Stretched like a trampoline.
Love changed.
Love disappeared
slowly, like baby teeth
losing parts of me I thought I needed.
Love vanished like an amateur magician,
everyone could see the trapdoor but me.
Like a flat tire,
there were other places I had planned on going
but my plans didn’t matter.

Love stayed away for years.
And when Love finally reappeared,
I barely recognized him.
Love smelled different now,
had darker eyes,
a broader back.
Love came with freckles I didn’t recognize,
new birthmarks,
a softer voice.
Now there were new sleeping patterns,
new favorite books.
Love had songs that reminded him of someone else;
songs Love didn’t like to listen to
so did I.

But we found a park bench that fit us perfectly.
We found jokes that make us laugh.
And now Love makes me fresh homemade chocolate cookies.
But Love will probably finish most of them for a midnight snack.

Love looks great in lingerie but still likes to wear her retainer.
Love is a terrible driver but a great navigator.
Love knows where she’s going,
it just might take her two hours longer than she planned.

Love is messier now;
not as simple.
Love uses the word ‘boobs’ in front of my parents.
Love chews too loudly.
Love leaves the cap off the toothpaste.
Love uses smiley messages in her text messages
And turns out,
Love shits.

But Love also cries.
And Love will tell you, “You are beautiful.”
And mean it.
Over and over again,
“You are beautiful.”
When you first wake up,
“You are beautiful.”
When you’ve just been crying,
“You are beautiful.”
When you don’t want to hear it,
“You are beautiful.”
When you don’t believe it,
“You are beautiful.”
When nobody else will tell you,
“You are beautiful.”
Love still thinks,
“You are beautiful.”
But love is not perfect,
and will sometimes forget,
when you need to hear it most,
“You are beautiful.”
Do not forget this.

Love is not who you are expecting.
Love is not what you can predict.

Maybe Love is in New York City,
already asleep.
You are in California, Australia,
wide awake.
Maybe Love is always in the wrong timezone.

Maybe Love is not ready for you.
Maybe you are not ready for Love.
Maybe Love just isn’t the marrying type.
Maybe the next time you see Love is twenty years after the divorce.
Love looks older now but just as beautiful as you remembered.

Maybe Love is only there for a month.
Maybe Love is there for every firework,
every birthday party,
every hospital visit.

Maybe Love stays.
Maybe Love can’t.
Maybe Love shouldn’t.

Love arrives exactly when Love is supposed to.
And Love leaves exactly when Love must.

When Love arrives,
say, “Welcome, make yourself comfortable.”
If Love leaves,
ask her to leave the door open behind her,
turn off the music,
listen to the quiet,
whisper, “Thank you for stopping by.”

The poem was co-written by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye of Project V.O.I.C.E. (Vocal Outreach Into Creative Expression); and was performed as part of their performance at the Malthouse Theatre in Melbourne, Australia. Watch the video here:

Love- Quintessential or Illicit?

It was 6 in the morning. Entire night had passed but there was no trace of sleep in his eyes. It was her birthday. His wife was still asleep next to him. He wanted to talk to her but he didn’t want to disturb her sound sleep. Slowly and steadily getting out of his bed he walked towards the bathroom. A cold shower early in the morning might help to clear his head of haunting thoughts, he thought. He stepped out of the bathroom well shaved, hair-styled just the way she liked it and smelling of her favourite shower gel under the white shirt that she had gifted him, only to find his wife awake. “Do you have work early today?” She asked with surprise. They have been married for 7 months now and he has never woken up this early. He was not a morning person but today was special. He wanted to tell her about his plans for this morning but the words just didn’t come out of his mouth. Unable to understand her husband’s silence, she inquired, “Will you spare time for the breakfast? I will just take 15 minutes.” “Yes.” is all he could utter from his mouth. His eyes were doing all the talking but she was busy being the perfect wife and forgot that she was his friend and confidant too. He had so much to say but he knew it would hurt her to know about it. Not everyone’s birthday is meant to be celebrated. But he had to do it. For her. It was he who had fallen in love with her and since the time he got married he has only kept those feelings to himself.

It was 8:30 by the time he finished the breakfast and left for her place. On his way he took a halt at a florist; the one she always bought flowers from. It was special after all. He couldn’t have visited her without her favourite lavenders and tulips. He drove again for an hour. She lived far, really far. Throughout the way he could only think about those 4 years that they had spent together loving and fighting each other. He reached the outskirts of the city into the meadows and stopped the car a little away from her place. He took the flowers, set his hair right and wiped the tear rolling down his cheek and tried hard to smile. He could already sense her around, hear her innocent laughter ringing in his ears and sniff her favourite perfume in the cool breeze that hugged his body.

He approached her with trembling hands and welled-up eyes. “Happy Birthday love! Hope you remember me.” he said as he placed the flowers. “We will meet soon, until then you take care.” He said with quivering lips and kissed her grave.

The 20s' Dilemma

"If you aren't happy where you are, change it!" - Easier said than done!

Yeah we all make some wrong decisions in life at times and so have I. I know where I am right now is not the place I wanted to be and I want to change it but sometimes the cost of it is what pulls me back. Two things that affect me adversely and stop me from bringing an absolutely new change in life-

*Rolling my eyes*

"A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her."

-Oscar Wilde.

Some quotes should just not be allowed to get famous.

Caution: Girly Stuff on "That Time of the Month"

I find it absolutely vile that we women have to go through drudging bouts of physical pain and emotional vulnerability for a few days EVERY month.

I hate the person that I turn into during those freakish days. I am numb, neutral-bordering-cold, volatile, and suffer from 'I-hate-the-world' syndrome.

Very few people have the misfortune of seeing me those few days every month. It's awfully difficult but