1 year and 2 months later,
Still laying down, numb inside
burning a little part of mine daily.
Each day part by part I'm running off,
thinking in loop of melodrama, everyday.
Depression, anxeity now breathes with me.
They have become a part of mine or maybe not?
Maybe I have been this way too long to endure it.
Rather I let them take over and became a part of them.

2:34AM,

Mom used to say "nothing good happens after 2AM"
Maybe she was right, I thought glouping down
the last sip of bourbon left in my glass,
time stands still when thoughts crawl.
Underneath my skin, inside veins.
Killing every bit of sanity leftover,
"Goodbye" was what we were for.
Slowly, disappearing in dark
numbness all over again.
Now life like this poem
running out of words,
slowly by parts.
Yet inevitably,
incomplete.

Oh this numbness

To write something, you need a spark.
A spark that fades everything that's bothering your mind,
something that bothers your soul,
scratches all the words that keeps on tangling.
Everything that is kept hidden deep inside.
These days this numbness is fading away every word that wants to be scribbled down.
Sorrounded by people, laughing, talking, expressing
you just sit there wondering what's wrong with you.

Everyday I wake up in the morning with a goal to find myself
and every night these unanswereds keep me awake.
Oh this numbness!
All these sunsets, sleepless nights come haunting.
I remember every detail, every face.
But never that one grin that would makey day.

All our childhood we feared of a monster under our bed,
maybe it isn't under the bed.
Maybe it's the part me that I'm afraid of.
A part that has been fighting a long lost battle anxeity.

And insomnia ?
It has become an old friend who comes to check on me every night and leave me incomplete, starving for love.
For someone who won't let go off me.
Being the giver for so long won't help either,
putting up a smile everyday.
Because no one needs to know about a starving soul.

Let it starve for so long that one day all of it falls back together again. Maybe it will or maybe not.
Maybe one fine evening as the sun sets all these go away too.

                                                                    ~Monosij Bhowmik

Conversation

She : why ?

He : And you ask me 'why?' that's because I was wrong and you are right. You're right about everything that I didn't stand for. And for now speaking a single word to you feels so heavy without thinking over and over, how I could have changed things. All the things that we could have, rather I could have today. It would have been different. A lot different than me being the asshole. I realise it now, maybe I choose to part ways with you only to be something, to be someone. And when I became I just realised what a lonely little creature I was, even wondering what to talk about when I have a lot to say.
I still rewind that day over and over again only to think of ending up differently. And even today I fumble infront of you. I wonder if life had a reset button I would have pushed it that very day just to make out things happen between us. And slap myself. Because I still do love you in the tiniest possible ways.
I still remember the way you just looked at me when you were angry, hands up on the waist and those crazy eyes man I fell for them. The way you ate, the way you fell asleep over the table. I don't want to sound cliche but I love the way, the person you are.
And I still miss those fights. And only missing these little things made me realise how terribly I was in love with you. And if I had a chance to change things I would have been the one sitting on his knees saying sorry and asking you to come back.
You're much more important that a child's ego game. You're worth fighting for with everything I have, with everything I can think of. Only because I love you and I want to grow old with you without messing up.

*P.S. He couldn't touch the send button and kept wondering if he could tell her all of this standing in front of her.

Darkness, memories, regrets and everything in between

Every night as the darkness smears up to gulp down my whole sight, memories starts loosing their sanity and haunts me till goosebumps become tired of hitting me.
With loosing words I still try again to pen these emotions down,
only to hopelessly realise how helpless I'm.
Every night in between this dead silence I look for solace.
Playing with words sometimes these pages speak back to me,
they speak to me about everything else than 'us'.
They tell me about how I was almost yet never enough.
They tell me about my loosing sanity,
how everynight I'm loosing a part of me,
how I would never be complete again.
These nights never get tired of making me look for words.
Once these nights used to be ours,
sitting under the same sky looking for the stars; together.
It used to be our time, our way to express love.
As the clock is slowly ticking,
each and every neuron that could ever make sense
Tells me about you.
The way you smile, the way you breathe.
I remember every detail, how the warmth of your breathe felt after a long day.
And at the end of the day how our tangled hopes never yeilded a forever.
Maybe that's why these nights never misses to give up it's darkness and smears up it's regrets under my skin.

Those unconfessed tantrums

Why did you remain silent all the time,
when you knew that I would never have the courage to speak up?

Every night you come crawling down to me, messing up all my thoughts and sucking down all the tantrums you create a perfect melodrama.
You came to me like a thought I could ink down so easy but even today,
after 3 years, countless poetries and a manuscript later;
I still wander around for words to describe you.

You will always remain that poetry whose words I could never find
and even today standing at this gyratory, having a million agonies in my heart,
I'm still searching for words.

All these crumbled paper, fumbled words are what you to me.
A thought which took over my mind, keyboard and obviously the backspace.
Erasing words as well as the chances of me coming up with something,
maybe I won't mess up this time and may the words wins over the backspace.

Only if I had the courage to speak up,
I would have told you about a million times drunk dialing you and coming back to my senses as soon as I heard that familiar "Hello".

That voice which makes me come back to those same streets,
 but now in a different season, just trying to remember "us". 
Like a half-burnt classic mild in the monsoon,
complete you will always be and about me?
Haha fumbling again for words.

Maybe sometime in between these, I will lose you over again
and you will still hope that I come up with those 3 words and 8 letters.
And me? I will still be stuck in everything that's between.

Leaving behind the melancholy

You asked me to write a happy poem, 

I wondered how? 

All my life, I kept on writing about sadness, misery, depression

and never about a happy emotion. 

All this way long I never thought about writing something else

maybe that's because that was the only emotion left over. 

Writing word by word, craving them into poems I never realized all I made was a graveyard of melancholy. 

Every word that flowed out was drenched in broken dreams and shallow hope of happiness. 

But people, they liked reading the misery; maybe because it relates them. 

Until the day you came out of nowhere and demanded happiness in this graveyard. 

And for the first time, it felt nervous. 

A human feeling nervous to express happiness? 

Yes, maybe it's because for a long time sadness has soaked deep into my nerves and depression caught hold of most of my neurons. 

Maybe I was not nervous to express happiness, maybe I was nervous because there was no happiness inside of this monster to express out. 

But you brave lady challenged the devil to bring out the good in him. 

Because of you, I realized maybe I am not a happy poet but I can be happy too.

Maybe my ink flows down bringing out misery but as a person, I can be happy too...

Maybe that's why I'm signing off here incomplete 

Maybe those words were not meant to fix someone but to be with someone?

A glass of bourbon and a heart full of memories..

They said being a talkative one, depression won't bother you
And somewhere that made me happy to some extent.
Until the day I met her,
a wide smile with the touch of arrogance,
and a brave heart with the touch of coldness.
That star crossed my life the way tender autumn breeze kisses the leaves and take them to new beginnings.
She made me question every little thing that I was afraid of,
the oblivion, the sadness and a thousand different split emotions that drove me crazy.
She made me happy !!
Everything seemed perfect with her, she made me fall for the forever she believed in.
And one fine day when every emotion seemed to fall right into places,
She left.
Nothing asked, nothing answered making it a perfect dream to carve for.
Even after 5 years, today I still sit here with my glass of bourbon,
lamenting over a person's memory who was never mine maybe.
Maybe I'm the fool who still sleeps again to complete the dream when his dream left midway.
Maybe that's why I'm still sitting in our favorite bar, on our old school table having the same drink which used to be our favorite.
And that's why I'm telling you this story, trying to find her in you.