If I Could I Would

If for once I could loose the grip 

and the night here stays  

a night,

whose moonlit sky you control

I would be able to believe that 

if not the moon, 

the night has surely accepted me. 

– Kritika Vashist 

Got to know that April is the National Poetry Month, to celebrate poetry, and some have decided to write a poem each day. Although I think it’s unfair to writing when you push it, but I also feel that I can take this up for today at least. Share yours too. You may wish to tag me.

PS. Lately, I have been thinking about my blogger friends here. I don’t know why my Reader doesn’t show up posts by people I want to read, but I miss you guys.

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

It Was Dark Again

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It was dark again, outside and inside
I reached out for your hand, trembling
like a little girl who is just about to die
and you played your game of hiding
while I could trace your breaths in silence
and you told me you never found me
when I never hid behind specious curtains

I looked in your eyes and counted ways
you pushed me away saying there aren’t any
turning my solace into an impassable maze
and I still cried that I want you, in fear
but you turned away to close the window
shadowing the moonlight that torched my tear
making space for me to shake, guess, break
for your second opinions, but never to make

The walls I painted for you ached with pain
were they paintings or a meaningless stain?
the tired eyes warned of approaching sorrow
and love asked if there was one more day to borrow
my hands frayed from all the letters they wrote to you
shaking and wanting, only if you had written a few
but it was dark again
and you couldn’t see what I had to bear
but it was dark again
I wonder why you never tried to hear

Every time after I left and before I entered in
I realized how you cleaned debris of the truth
but couldn’t understand how some still stuck my skin
every night before I slept, every day before I was awake
you disappeared into the darkness without saying a word
except that I should drop it all, you have no time to take
but it was dark again, darling
between the time my eyes opened and closed
and I could see the truth clear and stark
it was all in the dark and the darkness exposed
and it was dark again
I was stupid enough to instill your love
to forgive you, to love you with tattered hopes
and you were fool enough to think
I am not familiar with how darkness envelopes.

-Kritika Vashist

When I Almost Lost Myself To You

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When my laugh was louder than
the aroused waves at night
while your words filled
all spaces between the stars
when you held me close by my waist
hand in hand, a step forward, together
while the rhythms matched our heartbeats
when I almost fell from the bed
drinking wine from your mouth
while falling more and more for you
when only air was between us
while I loved you and you loved me too
and I whispered into your ear,
“Have I taken away your heart?”
and you held my face, in your hands
laughed and asked if I were too drunk,
and I was left to wonder
if I ever could even touch it,
when I almost lost myself to you
while you almost made me believe in love.

-Kritika Vashist

How And Who You Are?

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Drawing by Ismael Álvarez

Fear has spread
like a fever in your head
you step back, while life walks ahead
having your foot stuck in the sinkhole
you wish to swim the ocean, to fly high
dreaming to be whole and all
with your heavy and blind eyes.
Tell me, how long it has been?
To you, when did you become so mean?

Sitting on the bed, in disguise
you slowly lose yourself and then despise
in the growing dark you look for sunrise
wishing the rays to slink through the lies
all that you welcomed and occupied your room
that slowly and painfully broke your own butterfly
the one you lost amidst your gloom.
Why did you let yourself do the wrong?
Where have you hidden the truth for so long?

Open the window, look at the moon
let these fears and doubts leave your room
come out of the sinkhole
let the moonlight fall on you
while the stars kindle your soul
let the truth about you make you warm
while the sky wraps you in its arm
Tell me now, how and who you are?
Have you ever felt so light and free, my star?

-Kritika Vashist

Late Night Thoughts- Slowly and Slowly

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Painting by Jarek Puczel

The days are still long and the nights still are immeasurable, but memories of you, the thought of you, your brown eyes, your big nose, your hands, all now lies on the horizon. There is no fear if they cross, or if they stay there. Slowly and slowly, the line would fade.

The ocean is dark and deep as it always was, but I have learned to swim. I no longer fear of getting drowned in you, by you. The tides roar high and search for me, but my feet have befriended sand, clasping it tight. I no longer fear of getting devoured by the eerie sound of the tides. The screams from the torrent of your ruthless love do not shut, but the calmness of letting you go is not perturbed. I no longer fear getting swallowed. Slowly and slowly, the ocean would dry.

Your sun has set, and the summer of love has faded away into the cold mist. The moonlight has disowned your shadow, and the stars don’t look for you, yet somehow your face is reflected when they twinkle. Slowly and slowly, the cold mist would cloud the stars.

The day you named my prayer a curse for you, I puked out all the love for you over the memories we shared. However, I doubt myself if I puked it all, while I write this, thinking about you. But I know that, I will spill them out, slowly and slowly, poem by poem, word by word, smoothly emptying my body, and making space for another love, the one I always deserved, the one worthy to have and worthy to keep.

-Kritika Vashist