An Evening In The Summer

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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

 

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.

Loving You

Your love feels like the soft sunshine falling
OnĀ the face when the skin freezes in cold.
Your love feels like boisterous ocean waves
Taking me away every night with your memories.

Loving you is a an un-fathomed dream where;
Sometimes I flutter in an infinite sky of love, and
SometimesĀ I fall from your hands into a black abyss.
Loving you is getting stung by the honey bees
While tasting their moreish nectar from your mouth.

You, sometimes have been the moon in my dark nights;
You, sometimes have been the darkness itself.
You have been the rain pouring down my talking eyes;
You have been the pilgrim to the soul through my eyes.
You have been my love rose with all its thorns, the one
I let impassioned me, and whose fragrance still lingers.

Loving you was never an experience;
It always has been an endless journey,
Of embracing the pain and nothingness,
Of destroying oneself and rebuilding.

Before I die with this song inside of me,
And before these inimical episodes of life
Take you away and push me off the edge,
I want to sit and sing the song to you,
That I love you in echoing silence.
I love you in piercing loneliness.
I love you in desolation, in happiness.
I love you in my bedspread poetries;
For no reason and for eternity.

-Kritika Vashist