Waves Which Were Never Heard

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There were so many waves
that ended before they could
reach the shore of my mouth;
and some ebbed away,
that I could never find them again;
and while some quivering waves
survived all my quiet
inhibitions and doubts
and touched the shore,
the sun was too loud
and grains too deaf,
to hear even a word.

– Kritika Vashist

I Wish You Had Bought The Train Ticket

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Sometimes I wish
that you hadn’t had to buy the plane tickets
to go back to the city
that will make you run throughout the day
and will give you some peace only at night
that still might not be enough for you.

I wish you had bought the train ticket,
because that way you would have got more time
to recall each moment that you lived while you were here,
how you disentangled all your worries
without even speaking about them;
how that night you didn’t have to hold a pillow to sleep;
how you didn’t have to put an alarm to go to work;
how each hour you spent seemed to scamper;
and how when we sat under the sky late evening,
you could just brought few pieces of your stories,
(maybe you could have completed those in the train,
and I am sure that with your poetic soul,
you would have inked the pages you haven’t spoken to for long)
I wish you had bought the train ticket,
because while unfolding the letters
I had written to you few hours before you had to leave,
you would have known that
I picked those pieces of your stories,
to save them up for the time
when nobody would be in a hurry
to reach the airport, or anywhere.

I wish you had bought the train ticket,
because when you look through the window
while the trees and clouds pass each second,
you realize that the sun is still there
moving with you;
and while you leave everything behind,
you carry poetry and songs
written only in your head
about how the distance could never make you love someone less,
and a few questions about yourself –
questions whose answers lie in not knowing.

Now that you have boarded the plane
to fly back to the city that awaits you, but never misses you;
soon you will find yourself as
another lonely soul among the crowd;
however, the waves at night
would definitely listen to you;
and while the wet sand
offer some comfort to you,
I wish you find the answer to
how we always try to save time,
but end up having so little,
that it just slips with the thought of having some more,
and then maybe
book the plane tickets to return before winter arrives.

– Kritika Vashist

If This Is The Last Time

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If this is the last time
that I hold you close
while you drape your love
around my skin
then let it not stay
within the lines
let it crawl
let it run wild
let it permeate beyond the lines

If this is the last time
to taste the love
from the tip of your fingers
then let them rove
in and around
within and beyond
even if it means
falling from the edge,
for my heart is already
engulfed in the ocean
where your sight swims

If this is the last time
that our bodies unite
then let us merge into eternity

– Kritika Vashist

Ps. Dusting down my drawing sheets, pens and pencils. Always hoping to create something new.

Every Night When I Am Bewitched By You

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Every night when I sit to write
a word or two to tell you
about this loneliness I despise
I end up turning the pages
one by one of our memories
as I cry
as I cry
and when my eyes get tired
and I finally to go sleep
I hold you closer than
my own heartbeats
and I see you there with me
in my dream
in my dream
lying next to me
running hands through my hair
singing me a lullaby that
you’re always here
you’re always here

-Kritika Vashist

Away From Home

 

Sitting miles away from your home
while it rains outside
you trace down the raindrops
slipping slowly with the time
as you begin to trace back
the roads leading to your home…

The music of the rain rhythms
with the words in her voice
playing inside your head
The petrichor takes you back
to trees, the blue sky and makes
you miss the fragrance of your home
The breeze passing through you
softly strokes memories, once again
And then in your loneliness
you wish if the warmth of that hug
was there to embrace you…

A few days back was my blog’s 3rd anniversary. I wish WP had informed me in time, nonetheless here is the poem.
Happy blog anniversary to me! 🙂
Thank you all for sticking around, reading and encouraging me.

Love and Hugs!
Kritika Vashist