An Evening In The Summer

Don’t draw the window curtains back
the sun outside hasn’t left the sky yet
Don’t use the letter to blow a wind around
the words haven’t worn out by you yet.

The bed sheet is free from the anxious creases
the pillow cover has covered it all in greases
It’s not the floor it’s your feet that are flaming
the roof is never asked, the walls say they are burning.

How long will you hold the umbrella?
the febrile wind knows it ways to reach
It’s an evening in the summer of nihilism
don’t open the door of your balcony
moon is yet to kiss the sky without skepticism .

-Kritika Vashist

 

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Chasing

Between the curtains draped
around the jammed window
and the air that fills the empty room, I’ve seen a light travelling
through and within.
I often call it
the love you left
when the windows were open
and the room had your shadow.

– Kritika Vashist

The Routine

Color of the sky changes
from blue to grey to black
the wind that had resting
like a hope in some corner of the room
finally blows and swipes off the grime.
I had reached home late tonight
I did it all again, like everyday
I tried to ask the routine
and wondered if that is
how it is supposed to be
I walked a bit slow,
waited to catch another train
I passed a smile to the woman
who seemed to be doing
all again, like everyday
Her stiffness in expression
told that she had learned the routine
unlike me, she was prepared.
A few drops that earlier fall lightly on me
are now dripping down fast without spaces
I hear their sound,
I wonder if they are trying to hush the wind
I notice the wind pushing them
but each raindrop together
makes the dust to settle down, and now
I have this sight in my eyes, not the dust
But it doesn’t rain everyday.

-Kritika Vashist

The End

Let our glasses clink
and some wine spill
like words that were said
like hearts have bled
Let that sound write
the end, which begins tonight.

– Kritika Vashist

Six Word Story