Inflict the pain upon myself

If you don’t

I will

Slit open my throat

Burn away my treacherous tears

See for yourself

If I deserve what I get

Hold me tight

Or throw me away

Torch my feelings

Burn my day

Night is all left with me

Take it away please

I see then

A severe wreck

All around me

I become a miser

I hate to part with my wounds

I would rather give you happiness

But would collect sorrow for eternal


And impart me with

Some more pain

See yourself how much can I endure


How I harden my heart

How I shut my lips tight

And a sob fails

See what you have done

And now I blame you

But I asked for it

Isn’t it?

You had it in your own way

And it failed to give me content

I was not satisfied

I was raped

My hands have hardened

No touch a soft pillow

That changed me

Isn’t it?

~~Surabhi Gupta


Intimate( Part 2):

How much should we open up in the case of intimacy between two persons?

We blend years of experience, happiness and sadness into layers unfathomable. Yet, when the question of intimacy arises we question its existence. We feel obliged to lay bare the years we had lived without the other, which can be sometimes a lifetime. With so much practice we learn to not excite ourselves with the remembrance of some deeds of past, yet when intimacy comes to effect, we forcefully excite it. We know we must be prepared for the dire consequences, but more often than not, we are not prepared. We feel bound to tell it, to have a detour, to see, to experience again and yet, we don’t feel the same. But how much intimacy is necessary between two persons. Often, it proves lethal for one of the two. One accepts the truth, other is left shocked. How hard can it be to accept the past?

~~Surabhi Gupta



How intimate can you be? Can you dare touch me piercing your nails right through my heart without dropping a single blood drop?

I can well see through you but alas!

I cannot see through myself. The mirror I trusted today gives me a blurred image. The replica seems a little distorted.

You try to come close. And you try really hard. But when can that be possible if I cannot know myself?

I see a new image each day and try to guess the real me. Can that be helpful?

You try to fit into my shoes, to try to fill the void left by my footprints. But how does it matter? The moment I leave a footprint a lot erodes away and a lot loose away in the abyss.

Alone in the night, I touch myself. I become an explorer who is set for a new adventure. But then I find only barren land. Would you sustain there?

If you cannot, I implore you to leave. I cannot dare to see myself again over your dead corpse.



~~ Surabhi Gupta


He never died!

He didn’t particularly like being dead. But he understood one thing-he liked the idea of death. He tried it several times. Always reaching the end of gullet and then coming out as the regurgitation. He savored its taste like someone savoring chocolate. He once slit his throat. Watching the blood he cried in ecstasy. Again, he tried drowning in the pool. Watching his own breath flutter made butterflies flutter in his stomach. He liked gulping his puke and drank his blood (oozing from his wrists) as booze. And whenever you tried getting close to him, he infected you as well. He became a living zombie. Though he never had the gut to die…

~~ Surabhi Gupta



Orderly disorder

A calm prevails

He says to himself

“Hush! Hush!”

Bells ring menace

Death is making

Its own way

Wind gushes slow

Icicles on pane

Vision is blurred

He can’t see death

Thief so clever

A predator

On its way

Sting and poison

Never separate

Low long howl

Carry on its way

He hushes

And tries to listen

Stares down road

But oh! Darkness!

Death a nocturnal

Quietly takes away

Grips and he holds

To life to breath

Death overpowers

Drags him away

~~Surabhi Gupta




Solitary thoughts:

Packing up the bits before leaving his heart was really difficult. Some parts got stuck to his. They refused to leave as if living in a symbiotic relationship. As if, leaving his heart would cause them death. Indeed, an irony, for his heart existed no more. His grave was lying peacefully yet she suspected the cynical smile on him. His suicide was selfish. He ignored her heart bound with his. Nonetheless, he died alone. She scrubbed off, left some bits as they were and walked away with some lurking holes….

Lost in past!

An array of images

Served before us

Prepared from vast ruins

Topped with present

It filled the time past

Each one stares

Deep within my soul

As if I lay bare

Each one tells

A story unique

And I shudder

Their voice echoes still

In the empty vast space

Destroyed as if

A castle of sand

Their moments spent

Creating memories

And now they are

Long forgotten

They aimed perfections

And forgot their defects

With empty souls

They carved the monuments

The reins so tight

Gasped as they breathed

Saved each moment

Only for oblivion

Their tears still preserved

In the loneliness of night

The laughter lost somewhere

Within the hurricane of past