I'LL NEVER BE SORRY FOR ZONING OUT

"I'm sorry I zoned out."

The forest of flightless birds in my brain has an ecological imbalance these days.

Because in my world, parrots are placed above ostriches followed by peacocks when it comes to birds that can't fly. And I?!

I don't know who I identify as.

I've been told I'm an ostrich; that my bones are so heavy that I can't take flight but where is my strength to be the fastest of them all?

They also say that peacocks dance in rain and weep at the state of their feet after. 

But rain isn't a musician anymore and my heart is tired of loving more than my feet that are tired of running no sorry dancing.

I must be a parrot, for I cannot fly even if my body's designed for that. I'm stuck in this cage called loving and wanting to be loved the way I love

 And you dangle the key in front of me 

"Beta sing for us."

Will you love me if I sing for you? Will you hold me so tight that all the broken pieces fall back to their place?

Perhaps I should compose music out of my tears so that you see them as you see the sargam tearing my vocal chords apart

You see, the sargam is an illusion and my screams hide behind its calming notes

My voice doesnt show it but it asking you to love me back is chaos.

My vocal chords have stopped cooperating, so I scream out my words with ink instead.

 "I am not a poet"

This universe pukes out a million clichés to poets to write poetry about and musicians to sing about.

But I am not a poet and my tone deaf self stopped finding solace in the songs you play on our morning car rides to tell me that you love me.

But do you love me? 

Is it your love that causes my cheeks to heat up not because I'm laughing too hard but because I'm trying to keep my tears in?

Is your love the heaviness and the sheer dread I feel in my heart everytime you talk to me?

 "You are nothing"

There's a heavy weight lodged in my throat. I cant breathe because of it. I want to trust you, to tell you about it.

But that weight is a loving constant and you change colours from loving reds to angry ones at the speed of light and that is a currency I have very little of.

I lose a lot of my light in exchange a small ration of your love and you still deem me unworthy of it.

Why can't you love me even when I'm nothing?

Perhaps its better if I stay "nothing" for you. That way atleast I won't lose my everything.

For this "nothing" I'm made of was supposed to be your love

"I don't remember my childhood" 

The internet says that a faulty memory is a trauma response. 

But I'd remember if you hated me right? 

Or did I mistake your love for hate, its a thin line between the two after all. 

And we live to dance around the edges of this illusion of hate you've created that you call concern.

So if I forget a step or two, I'm okay with it. 

It's easier to forget that you hate me than it is to remember it along with the fact that you're supposed to love me

"I zoned out, I'm not sorry"              

My apologies are tired of escaping my soul, so much so that everytime I say "I'm sorry" the words return back to my heart.

It's bigger than yours could ever be.

My heart loves freely even though I've seen you giving out love in tiny little wooden spoons.

It loves me enough to compensate for your hate 

It love you enough despite your hate

My heart will never be sorry for loving and you didn't make me that way, I did that on my own

And I will never be sorry for zoning out and finding refuge in my heart, for your arms have always been a battle ground for my little soul