The Calling

Moonlight Ocean Painting
Beneath the bulge of your eyes
lays the yearning for his face
and on it lingers the reflection
of the moon to whom you recount.
At the corner his oceanic eyes
stand the waves, thirsty for you
that soon would flood the shore
because your moon bestrews
the ocean with all your epistles
inducing the waves to rush
until he reaches you,
until you hear his screech.
-Kritika Vashist

Until You Come and Wake Me Up

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The lights in this big and empty room tremble as my legs shiver
and your name with each skipped breath touches my lips without kissing
The walls embedding your shadow echo the song I heard over the phone
and its words go all out finding the meaning without you around
I leave the door open, I leave my voice there
for you to come, for you to hear

Within the folds of the sheet of no end, I’ve hidden all my thirst and desires
and the fathomless creases on it read the letter I haven’t yet written
My hands stretch to touch your face emerging like a rainbow in the clouds
and my ears in this aching silence try to hear the song you haven’t yet sung
I shut the lights off, I shut my eyes
for a dream to come, for a love to live within

Until you come and wake me up

-Kritika Vashist

I Should Have

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My eyelids became heavy
trudging through the memories
holding the weight of the days
when my eyes could see
the subdued moon and stars
but neither your crescent smile
nor the twinkle of your eyes
I should have taken the bus
but there was no place to go
there was no one waiting to see.

Clouds burst from the heaviness
and in drowned all the words
I put on the back of the ticket
in a hope to tell you how much
my eyes yearn to see you
and yet they see you everywhere I go
I should have sent you the letter
but there was no address
there was no one waiting to read.

-Kritika Vashist

If You Were Here

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Artwork by Keller & Witwer

If you were here,
You could have seen
How much of you
My eyes have hidden
And how much
They yearn to see your face
And how heavy
my eyelids have been
Since the night we were awake. 

If you were here,
You could have seen
How much my lips
Have dried holding the words
I want to speak into you
And how much
Of you
Echoes in my voice
And how thirstily
I call your name, craving for you.

If you were here,
You could have seen
How impatiently I stand
With my arms wide open
Wanting to feel your touch
And how madly
I tap my feet
Wanting to dance with you.

If you were here,
You could have seen
How drunk
I’m on all these poems
All the songs you sing
And how much
My silly heart races
Thinking about you,
Like you are the only one I know.

If you were here,
You could have seen
The look on my face
When I imagine me with you
And how intensely
I embrace the scent
Of your breaths in my own
And how foolishly
The air around me blows.

If you were here,
You could have seen
How much
I want to be with you
And how much
I want to love you.

-Kritika Vashist

Nothing

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Illustration by Soltreis

The fog outside has veiled
the summer of love
of you and me
and the sunshine still
peeps through the spaces
between the branches and trees
and falls on my face you once knew
on my hands that waved goodbye
and I know, it isn’t because of you
it isn’t because the sun still shines,
it’s the unconsciousness
weaving poems, word after a word
poems that are soporific, not lullabies
poems, without a meaning
without a purpose,
and they don’t matter,
not even the sieved sunshine,
nothing does…

-Kritika Vashist

The Second Time I Called You (Part I of II)

The second time I called you, I could only hear the phone ring, longer than I heard your hello when I earlier called. And when you thought I said nothing, but I had said everything that was left with me – The Silence. That’s all left. That’s all I can share. That’s what I promised. That’s how it is going to be, for ever – An eternity of silence.

It’s been so long without you, that it already feels like a lifetime has passed, and us sharing this silence throughout. There is nothing between us now, that’s what I say before I put myself to sleep every night and whenever my heart tries to reach over yours. There is nothing between us, except this space. This space that spreads to infinity, like the moonlight in our eyes did on that evening when we sat under the starlight sky, beholding the moon. There is nothing left between us, just this space, permeating each corner of my bones, even in the thickness of the kohl at the corner of my eyes.

This silence, where I speak more than a thousand word every day, where I sing of the love that has still clasped me, as tight as before, where I dance in the madness of believing that my unrequited love would survive amidst my consciousness, where I shudder in fear of forgetting my face seeing yours between the frame of the painting inscribed with my name and face, this silence has grown so large in this space that it echoes loud, so loud that these words pull me towards themselves, and pin down all the overwhelming feelings and love I had hidden all these days, on a mere piece of paper.

When I stare outside the window, gazing at the tree whose leaves have started to fall, I constantly shift my body weight from one leg to another, like my unsettling thoughts, which don’t stop shifting from one to another. The movements of legs ache my knee, and the movements of thoughts ache my head, and everything of me. My mind has become the tape recorder, and these thoughts, the songs in it. But this tape recorder keeps on playing its melancholic songs; there is no play, there is no pause. There is no control.

My body has become a haunted house, with broken windows, cracked walls, dusted floors, empty rooms, fallen roofs and webbed memories. I don’t want you to come closer to it, I don’t want anyone else to unravel my secrets, dead pieces of me inside and beneath the soil, and unfathomable depth of you in me. The skin on my body still have your traces, like the imprints of my fingers on that book that you long ago held at nights and read, and in others as well, which you buried under all your inconsequential things. There is no way to reach back to these traces, and there is no possibility to draw more.

– Kritika Vashist

You, Only You

Today someone just take me away from here
To a place where there is you, only you
No promise that causes ache
No destiny that plays
Without any consciousness
Without any obligation
Let it just be the silence, remoulding into
Yours and mine fast paced heartbeats
Today someone just take me away from here
You were the one who left
Today, that one, who takes me away
Should be you, only you…

-Kritika Vashist

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Without Reason or Rhyme

Gabriela Lutostanski
Source: Gabriela Lutostanski

I love you even if you love someone else
I love you even if I am with someone else
I love you even without your presence
I love you even without my consent
I love you even when you don’t think of me
I love you even when I don’t think of you
I love you even when my mouth lies
I love you even when my ink dries
I love you even when the memories fade away
I love you even when the words escape
I love you in echoes of my laughs
I love you in silence of my tears
I love you even when there is nothing
I love you even when there is everything

I love you even when the leaves on the tree have dried
I love you even when the ocean has drowned in itself

I love you, that is the only way I know, and
there is nothing I can do about it.

-Kritika Vashist