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