If You and I

If you and I were meant to be;

Why are we apart? Why are we hurt?

If you and I kept each other happy;

Why did it feel like we were alone?

Even though we had each other.

If you and I were the answers;

Why did the questions change?

If you were in love with me;

Why was there a need to lie to me?

If you were waiting for me;

Why did you choose to travel alone?

If you and I were to make it through;

Why did it shatter along the way?

If you and I were whom we wanted;

Why did I stop becoming whom you need?

If you and I were a song;

Why did the music stop? No one’s dancing.

If you and I didn’t need anyone else;

Why was I the only one who lost his family?

If you and I were each other’s words;

Why did we become silent? We lost our words.

If you and I were “WE”;

How could you break that one thing that mattered the most to me?

You and I weren’t meant to be; we were destined to be strangers with some memories.

©theblackcurse

Oblivion

We run around hither and thither,
Unaware and unabashed.

We walk around the corners,
Not knowing what’s waiting for us there.

The darkness is somehow eerie.
The mornings dreadful to our very existence.

Why do we fear? When we don’t have anything to lose?
After all, who’s gonna leave this world with what they choose?

There’s nothing to dread, dear child except fearing Oblivion.

© the black curse

Picture courtesy ~ Debasmita Chakrabarty

Masquerades

You came in like a butterfly, fluttering around the dark side of my life.
You woke me up with a smile, the smile that can make everything feel just fine.
You made me realise that it was not my fault, that I too could be loved even after being so drastically flawed.
You made my insides crawl, with that look in your eyes and the earnestness in your soul.

You gave me courage to look at myself in a new light; not dreading the shadows and the past mistakes of my life.
You turned all the knobs of my insides and set them right; suddenly I was in tune and singing amidst the moonlight.
I looked at the mirror and there I was; the old me; rearranged and remoulded into someone absolutely new.
And then you did what I could never associate with you;
You left me and didn’t bother seeing me descent into the abyss of my past and the turmoil of breaking down; negating my growth in plain sight!

Tonight I am decked out for the whole world to see me,
They love the mask that is masking my insanity.
The cracks and crevices can be felt if someone looks a bit more closely but no one’s allowed anymore; after what you did to me.My frailties have slowly crept inside and morphed into my reality,My tears have dried up; just like your decaying humanity.

I arrange and rearrange the pieces of my mask every morning,
Only to break it again during the wee hours of my unceremonious mourning.
My hands often bleed because the shards are far too sharp for my skin,
But then again I make myself remember who I am and what I carry within my soul masked by my smile and my body:

A broken mask of beauty masking the marks left on me for loving someone ever so deeply. An emblem to prove that love heals a lot less than it ruptures and damages.

©the black curse

Picture courtesy – Sakshi Jajodia

Digne • Indigne

Sorry for being the person you never wanted me to be.
Sorry for being the partner you never deemed normal and worthy.
Sorry for being the friend you never could flaunt proudly.
Sorry for being a disappointment for you and your family.
Sorry for being a ridiculous excuse of a man.
A hollow shell making sound but worth nothing.
Sorry for disgusting you with my cheap mentality.
Sorry for being so toxic to you and your soul.

People know me to be who I am not.
I am the worst possible man in love with the best possible woman.
I am loved by her even after I have destroyed her in every manner possible.
Her patience is paramount and my paranoia is all she ever gets back!
Anxiety, possessiveness, anger issues and so much more
She suffered it all with a smile on her face and silence wrapped around her lips.
I left her countless times and yet she was there to recover me everytime I came back.

The world should know that you are an angel.
And I am worse than the Devil himself.

I can never be who you wished for me to be.
No matter how many times you buy me expensive ties and shirts; how can a man like me be good from within?

I’m a sinner. I am your sinner. Always was and always will be.

You’re my salvation and I’m your damnation baby.

©theblackcurse

To be continued.

Sad Old Year

What has changed apart from the number at the end of the date and the calendar page?
A new year has started with senseless joy and meaningless banters.
The world seems to have found a renewed passion and adulterous enchanters.

The melodious songs of the yesteryears have given way to the new beats of decadence.
Phantom threads of the sartorial minds nurturing thoughts of business and brand new trends.
Morality and ethics are lost at sea
Like Lemuria and Atlantis were once.

A new day awakening the sleeping world,
A broken canvas and colours spilled all around.
Families and friends, gathered together like before,
Absinthe and cigarettes have numbed us all.

The countdown begins and everyone’s back on,
‘Hurry! Hurry! We’re nearing the count of one!’
Merriment and wishes all around,
Unknown souls greeting each other with familiar sounds.

The eyes at the corner watches all this with a scowl,
What’s the noise and celebration for?
Aren’t we all nearing the end of our time?
The planet won’t die but it’s inhabitants shall,
The man made Gods’ won’t help you
Even if you read the Bible or do the Namaz.

What will save you then, comrades?
Religion, politics or commerce?
You’ll all turn around and see what you have done
And the planet will rejoice as the the plastic cups are buried under the blooming flowers.

©theblackcurse

Unposted Letters #2

When in the morning I wake up late,
And you fly into a rage,
I quickly sit up on the bed,
For I understand what’s there in my fate.

When I don’t reply to your never-ending texts,
Your blood pressure at once jumps and the usual serenading voice of yours,
Often compared to an Angel’s by me,
Changes into a scorned and angry one,
Demanding an answer to the reason of my late reply.

I oblige with an answer as I know that you’ll not take much time to return to your lovely and graceful self.
They say ‘when all else fails, there’s family’; well, for me it’s You!
I know everyone else may feel bad, may feel left out but what do I do?
It is not always that I can tell them that.. I love her,
It is not always that I can tell you that.. I love you.

When you feel that I’m unromantic and that I don’t express my love through the preferred phrase of “I Love You’s”
I know how you feel but what to do?
And as they say, ‘true love is felt!’

Don’t worry about things I say in anger,
I’m a kid so my anger provokes these,
But somewhere down the line I’m sure you know
That though it is not always that I can tell you,
But know this my love… I do love you!

©theblackcurse via the first letter for her

Featured Picture – Rupsa Sreemani.

A Starry Night

‘Look at the stars, look how they shine for you’

But there are no stars in the night sky. The city lights reflecting on the calm water makes it look like a starry sky. The city sleeps while the dreadful whispers are heard. The night is dark and the terrors have just begun.

A traveler from far beyond, traveling in a forlorn boat with no one for company but long lost ghouls. The atmosphere is eerily calm, as if it is the silence before a storm. The buildings are lit even when the city is fast asleep.
“Peculiar thing” the traveler thinks.

The horizon is blue, the end seamlessly far. The traveler muses to himself about the unforgiving nature of his past. The life left behind, the sins committed, the vows taken only to be broken, the face of death worn like a glorious mask on his face.

There seems to be no life around. An inexplicable fear creeping up on to the back of the man. Has he been here before? Passing the city that sleeps through the day only to wake up during the unholy hours of the night? He looks around and sees men, women and children; all looking straight into his eyes. He sees the fire of hell in them; they’re walking but there’s no life in them. They recognize him. He realises he’s been here before.
Following orders of the Devil, removing anyone who tried to oppose.
He has arrived. The final destination of his venomous soul.

The boat travels towards the destination alone.
No stars, no moon, no traveler.
Waiting for the next sinner to come aboard.

©the black curse

Artwork by Sakshi Jajodia (inspired by Van Gogh)

Paradise

The door slams shut. The earphones are plugged in.The violins shimmer into life.
The bass takes it’s place.
The rhythm is set and then it all begins.

‘When she was just a girl…’

The song begins and slowly the lyrics work like magic. The eyes close.
The dream begins floating in her mind.
The day and all the rumbling,
the countless innuendos and the quarreling;
they’ve conspired against her to make her feel weary, to make her feel that this reality is just too cruel to live in.
But she has surpassed them all, she’s flown away and now none of this can touch her again.

She lies on the soft grass, while the sun is frolicking and the breeze is singing. The world is at utmost peace. A faint sound of the waves crashing into the shore looms around. The sound of the daily lives have been muted. The birds fly in merriment and the world around her is shrouded in leaves and trees and bushes and forests. The world feels like it has a new life now.

Some images rush by her eyes, transporting her to the ghastly incident. A few tears roll down her cheeks. The walls are again closing in. She feels like running once again and just then the lyrics float back into her ears to usher her into a new dimension; where she sees what she had been vehemently praying for.

Her favourite Mango tree dancing on the tunes of the spring time winds and smiling broadly at her.

The tears stop. A smile awakens on the corner of her lips. For she has seen her favourite tree come alive; moments after seeing it being chopped down mercilessly and watching it breathe out and die.

Yes, indeed she has found paradise.

She has found her paradise.

©theblackcurse

Artwork by Nilakshi Sarkar.

My Bougainville

I’ve walked around a fascinating place,
Up in the mountains, away from the plains.
I’ve walked across gorgeous gardens,
Where my gloomy childhood blossomed
And the happiness was never shrouded.

I’ve seen colours painted across the sky,
I’ve seen birds singing to fireflies.
I’ve walked past the place where I saw you,
Been there a zillion times and yet it still feels so new.
I’ve attached our memories to the petals and the feathers,
In Autumn they fall, only to re-emerge through unposted letters.

I’ve stood beneath you, my Bougainville,
I’ve whispered my worries into your ears.
I’ve stopped by while rushing to a destination,
Only to catch a leaf fall to the ground in silent anticipation.

I’ve left the city which beholds you,
And yet I reminisce about the evening walks and what I’d do.
In this foreign land, on this foreign soil, every dawn,
You bloom just as beautifully as you did in my backyard lawn.

The pinkish hues feel soothing to my eyes,
As I float back to the afternoon in my mind,
When below you I so peacefully lied,
And the world seemed like it wasn’t dying.

©the black curse via My Bougainville
@d_debi clicked.

Euphoria

I think I’ve seen the place where the clouds are made,
I think I’ve seen how the elves make the snow rain,
I think I’ve seen the place where the stars take their shape.

I’ve been nearby yet never fully made my escape and I’ve heard the faint whispers of those who’re working there for ages.

I’ve seen the swirling smoke rise high up into the night sky,
I’ve seen the moon get shrouded and the Earth preparing to stand by.
I’ve felt the lights fade away and the cascades of my imagination illuminate,
I’ve always wondered if the world was just a minor gateway or is it possible that we’re all pantheistic?
My psychedelia seems to have taken over me and now I can say this surely..

Yes, I’ve seen the place where the clouds are made,
I’ve seen how the elves make the snow rain,
I’ve seen the place where the stars take their shape.

© theblackcurse


Artist ~ Sakshi Jajodia