i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you,
i’ve never had a conversation with you;
neither do i know what you’re like in person,
and nor have i heard your voice;
it’s strange, how the only eye contact with you
has been one-sided, with a picture on your profile;
the only side of your personality i’ve seen,
is the one you show to everyone online,
and i hate to come terms with the fact
that i am merely one of the many hundreds
who has failed to catch your eye.
i’m not being biased one bit, when i say
that we could be great friends,
but there must be another few hundreds,
who probably have the same very thought;
is this what is infatuation?
this unfounded, seemingly false, intense longing
when i have no clue of your real being,
when i have no clue of your true thoughts,
when i have no clue of your feelings and emotions,
and yet, my admiration for you has no bounds;
i truly hate that i feel this way; that sometimes
my actions are governed by your reactions,
my expressions are ruled by your disregarding eye,
my thoughts are disturbed by your typed words.
i despise that i’m unable to control my feelings,
and that i’ve put you on a pedestal
when all that we have in common,
is my infatuation towards you and
yours towards someone else.


“what happened to your face?”

what happened to your face?
a small girl of six asked me today.
her voice was soft and her eyes round,
startled and upset, i hadn’t a clue what to say.
she was looking up at me innocently,
even though i myself am just five feet tall;
my lips gently quivered and my brows scrunched,
for the first time today, i could feel my face fall.
i was shocked and a little hurt,
at the little girl’s harmless question
and how it could easily plague my mind
with recurrent thoughts about my very own skin.
she turned away, confusion evident in her features
after i rushed out an unconvincing, feeble reply;
hoping that nobody had witnessed this exchange,
i closed my eyes and let out a long and deep sigh.
most places i go, with most people i speak to,
it’s hard to avoid their questions, which make me ache;
it’s painful to listen to them give me useless remedies,
when all i want to scream is, i’ve tried it all, give me a break.
i realise that they are all my well-wishers,
hoping to help me out of this seemingly permanent phase,
so i shrug it off, with an embarrassed smile,
and a hesitant nod silently saying yes, i’ll try your ways.
two brown eyes, a cute nose, thin lips
straight teeth and a nice chin,
what’s wrong? chubby cheeks peppered with blemishes,
they trigger one to ask me the question;
they ask, i frown then shrug,
they raise their eyebrows and i sigh
i mumble a convincing answer, one that ensures
no follow up questions, internally thinking WHY?
the little girl’s honest, guileless query however
caught me off guard and i stuttered,
since the syntax of my usual interaction
was out the window, leaving me perturbed.
these blemishes have made themselves at home,
uninvited guests that have exceeded their stay;
with aloe vera and fruits as my best friends,
i exhaustingly wait for the day, when they all go away.