A Million Ways to Kill You

I have a million scenarios on my head on how I’d kill you

To see you lying dead, nothing rectifiable

I’m killing you silently, lustfully

It’s bloody, merciless

I’m forcing my fist down your throat

Cutting through your vocal cords

Ripping out your tongue and your trachea

I’m strangling you

I’m breathing your death

The smell of your blood is filling my lungs

I’m looking at your pictures with despair

I’m killing you in my head, in a million ways

I’m not satisfied

I’m dying with you every time you die

I’m plotting my devastation

In anger and infuriation

I kill you, mourn you, I triumph, and I weep

I loathe you, I long for you

In excruciating pain

I’m hanging by a thread

To the hope of one day we will meet

We will meet again

And our eyes will pierce each other

You’ll be looking at me and I’m through you

I’ll kill you in silence

I’ll kill you a thousand times per second

In a million ways

I’ll see the light gets sucked out of your sockets

I’ll stand over your wretched corpse

Breaking into pieces, falling onto my knees

Hysterically weeping
Bursting in laughter

Now I’m even less than satisfied

I’m killing you through my art

I’m killing you on paper

Immortalizing you in my eternity

My vivid memory

This is where the problem lies

I don’t really want you to die

I don’t hate you

Not even a bit, not even a little

Not even at all, not in a thousand life times

Dear February

Last year I wrote a letter to you, in which I expressed my need in sustaining my love relationship. It was the only time in which I really felt secured. It was the one love I really thought to be mine; the one love I really thought would last for eternity. I was happy, maybe even a little bit more than happy. On the 25^th of March, however, I discovered that it was all an illusion that my mind deceived me into believing. It was fake; the promises were fake, the love was fake, and the attitude was fake. Maybe it was my fault at a point and maybe I miss-chose the person with whom I am going to spend my life with, or was to be exact. Now with him gone, I do not know if it is a good or a bad thing for me. I cannot feel the flickers anymore. I do not get any butterflies anymore. I am unable to breathe the way I used to. This smile that was once drawn festively on my face, when I used to see his name on the phone, is all gone. This feeling that I used to get is not there with any other person.

I had a new love after my breakup with him. It was no way near love. I was null. I was way crushed to feel anything. I couldn’t believe a word I said. It is all about me now; a repetitive, dismal “I” that is very bewilderingly bewildering. I saw him everywhere I went. I dreamed of him sabotaging every kind of happiness I might ever have with this new person. I was chocking in this new relationship until it was over. For the first time in my life I was happy that a relation was over. I was ecstatic. It was like I hoped for it to end but I was too scared to end it because maybe it would have been the best thing that would ever happen to me after this diverged train of my emotions hit a concrete wall. I was suffocating and everything seemed impossible.

I am sorry; I know that I kept on talking and speaking about my mess. I know that I got so self-indulged like I did last year. Last year it was a similar case but now I am way done. This time was a wrecker. I do not want to feel any more wrecked or jeopardized. I do not want to feel naked like that. I want to feel safe again with a person, my person.

I am writing this year to save the habit of writing a letter to you every year. I do not want to feel alone and since you are “The Month of Love” I’m writing to you as a pen friend. You became my pen friend three years ago, when all of my turmoils started, and my heart started bouncing on a rod.

This year, my dearest February, I have a request. I am requesting an easy, comfortable mind, a loved lovable heart, and relaxation. I need those more than anything else. I need a new love that would mend all of my wounds and would help me stretch my broken wings and teach me not to be afraid of flying anymore. I need you to support me and to love me and not to leave me alone.

I know I made this message too long this time but this is only a portion of my heart that I poured here on paper. I wish if I was able to elaborate more on how I really feel but I am so tired to even think about what I am feeling. It consumed me too much that I am not aware of the person that I have become. Please feel free to write back to me and share whatever your heart tells you. I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours sincerely,

Rana

Bitter, Coffee, Love

I’m drinking a cup of coffee

Little sip by a little sip

I’m drowning in its bitterness

My cold love

My veins tickle

As my nerve cells shiver

When the caffeine kick in 

I don’t like it

My hands shake

My shoulders shrug

My head turn forcibly

And my legs stretch 

I’m sipping my coffee still

My bitterly tasteless coffee

I’ve never been its fan 

But here I am, drinking it

Just like my heart, bleeding

Over a love story that hasn’t lived long

I think I hate him

But my feelings for him are strong

It hurts me, it pains me

Yet I’m holding on

Just like I’m pouring in this cup of coldness

Dying on its after-taste of mud