On why I like writing poetry more than prose… and why I want to stop.


The season, it changed

& so did you, & so did I

& we were different.

We both let go.

You & I 

Poetry has always helped me mask the nakedness of emotions that prose simply make crass. Poetry is my most honest form of writing since it gives me an illusion of veiling with words what I want to say & hence I say what I feel is true & real. For those who come meandering to my writings and seek no more than a new rhyme, they get just that. While, those who choose to lift the mask & see what lies beneath… well, I’ve always been amused with the versions of reality they come up with.

Most of my rhymes start as prose, like the one above did… and then I would realize that I had to say something that was excruciating to share, which would make me more vulnerable than I had the strength to be, would make me bare more than I was comfortable with… and so the prose would turn to a rhyme… where the reader would get intertwined with the loops & structure of statements, rather than the real conversation I try to have.

The post (rhyme) above, started something like this –

“Amongst all the bad habits, I have… giving up on people may be my worst, in both the intent of what is being done & the manner in which it is done… a covert operation where most don’t even realize that they’ve been let go of… never to be allowed back into my small little confused life again. Over the years, I’ve gotten so good at it, that it happens almost on auto-pilot… where people & friendships have an expiry date & all I do is wait out the period when everything eventually goes to dust, almost indifferent to the journey that once was….”

But putting this “out there” feels like I’m giving away a secret a friend once told me to keep, it feels like unlearning a lesson I had learned the hard way, it feels like I am betraying the pieces of my heart that were chipped away with every person who had turned me away from their lives. And yet I try. I try to put it out there because I realize that as cold hearted I may have to be with me & my self-imposed vulnerabilities, it would be worth it. It would be worth acknowledging my weaknesses, even if it is just on the ‘hope’ that my heart will be able to believe what my head has to say… that the past is over, and that my present is happy & full and that it is time to unlearn the lessons I taught myself when the world was falling apart around me… that I don’t need to hide… behind walls, or pillars, or rhymes.

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