“When it’s over, leave. Don’t continue watering a dead flower.”

— Unknown

“The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die.”

— Juliette Lewis

“Please stop destroying what is left of your heart by constantly thinking about things that have broken you.”

— Unknown

Mary Oliver, from “Hum Hum”, A Thousand Mornings

And lately I've realised, it's not my life that's a tragedy. It's me, I am tragedy. So, I need to survive myself.

Suvrahadip Ghosh, Tragedy

The problem is people are being hated when they are real, and being loved when they are fake.

~ Bob Marley

“The media was the last place one should look for truth. A person was lucky to find the facts, let alone the truth.”

— Jason Mott, The Returned

When you died 3 years back, your mother couldn't muster up the words to let me know. At least not instantly.

72 hours earlier, you called me twice. I never answered. 

Never return your texts where you said you wanted to talk. I was down with COVID. I thought I had time. 

To heal. To see you. To hear your voice. 

While I ate fruits, swallowed pills, read books, and reminisced about you, the radio waves carried to me an indelible melancholy of what I'd lost. 

After you, I've grown self-destructive by design. 

I've grown quieter than before. 

I'm learning different ways to stay inconspicuous. 

Last night I dreamed of you again.

The world has moved on. It has forgotten you. 

But, not your mother. Not me. 

I write postcards to heaven. To you.

Suvrahadip Ghosh, Postcards to heaven 

Would you cry at my funeral?

Would you even come? A sunflower in your hand, a winter in your chest, and the cave of your throat housing my name. An eulogy- you wrote as I dragged my last breath. A secret nostalgia lingering between your palms. All this blood, we hemorrhaged our love. If I die on a Monday morning, would it be bluer than usual? Would you call in sick at work? Would you place your palm on my cold grave, and reminisce? About the time I told you how your touch feels like the sun. Like walking barefoot on the summer grass after a long winter. Would you remember how your light made me transparent? As if I was made of glass. Would you try and bring me back? To life. To you. Would you think of me when you stargaze? Would you remember the colour of my eyes when you see a wolf chasing a rabbit? Would you stop and look for me, every time you hear my name in public? If I die tonight, would you forgive me for not writing you poems anymore? And when I become the source of your endless sorrow, would you let me go?

Suvrahadip Ghosh, Would you come to my funeral

— Louise Glück, from “The Untrustworthy Speaker.”

"you cant heal if you pretend you're not hurt"

-filmythings

Strange Bird

I count the golden stretch marks- six of them - running down my mother's belly while she slips a handful of grief in my mouth. Two empty bellies. One orange. Summoning a smile on her lips, Maa sent her hunger to the bottom of her pits. Leaking from her fingertips, her grief mixed with the carefully peeled Orange carpels. With every bite I could taste her memories. Broken dreams. A lump in her heart. Locked doors I couldn't enter. A void I couldn't understand. Between the seeds stuck on my teeth, I found pieces of her heart. As if she's feeding me her heart to power my heart. One heart keeping another alive- with all its pieces. The undertone of her grief felt sweet. A beaming, delicate piece of Orange blossomed on her lips. Then on mine. Two halves of a whole, born out of love. After all, love is an Orange you feed someone else, when you could've savoured it yourself.

Suvrahadip Ghosh, love is an orange

today I discovered that poetry about oranges was quite popular. I love how artists perceived the most mundane of things, it's beautiful.

Sword Illustrations by Ma-Ko (2018-21)

One day I will stop falling in love with you. Until I do, I'll be thinking of you.

k.b. // laufey, philharmonia orchestra - let you break my heart again

The Glass Essay, Anne Carson | Molly Brodak, Molly Brodak

people are like “i am fine” and then stare into the void all night.

its me, i am people.