Poetry

Have you ever learned

how to let go of the beauty?

Turning away from the rain,

Closing down the book,

no selfie on good hair day,

skipping drinking tea,

preventing siting on the bean bag.

Since we get to do all these

so easily,

We realise these are

happy-heart moments

until snatched away.

Life in bits and beauty is really pretty.

The first time we met
we were hesitant to say Hi
We walked a bit together
on pavements coloured yellow.
You were wearing orange and I, gratitude.
The season was fall, the air was damp.
Far away someone played the piano
And we walked and walked
Liked we waltz-ed.
A world like this, a day like this
was in prayers and now in bubbles.
How I said my favourites were strawberries
How you said your favourite was Franz Kafka
We both laughed. Our eyelids happily closed

The fall is back again and
I read Metamorphosis
The helplessness, the hopelessness
the plot slipping from sad to miserable.
I sing a song with no tomorrow in it.
And It dawns on me
the meaning of the word
when you left.
You left me in a Kafkaesque world.

©kanikachugh

The diary doesn’t hold secrets
It holds my rebel.
It holds my definition for you
as my favourite fruit,
as a platonic cat,
as any enamoured materialistic thing
with non-existent adjectives
making grammatical errors
along the way
misusing punctuation
but never you.
You my age of twenty-one,
You my little dreams,
You my 10 rules of winning in life,
You my sky and analysis of it.

I ain’t afraid if anyone
gets hold of my diary.
Cause it won’t make sense at all.
It doesn’t have to
Like my love for you.
No one can understand
but me.

©️kanikachugh

Wish you everyone a happy and a prosperous Diwali 🪔🪔💫

World is a non-genre movie.
Fall in love the one moment
dip your hands in death in other.
Mourn a loss, live in shadow
then get interrupted by a friend
snowballing hope through shoulder.
Merry & high sneaks
in-between the world-ending.
Dark and anger at the corner
of the street, hiding
Fights and heartbreaks
are blockbusters choice
Cigarettes and ashes
usually the way to die.
The world isn’t a fight
between good and evil.
it’s the misinformation of
how we spend our time
amidst chaos and dry living.
Sky, prism, waltz, balloons
Unread letters, burned bridges, 3’o clocks.
They just spin
And spin us all around
till we fall
till we are grieved
with a genre leaked
of a house we lived in once
of the swing no one remembers.

©kanikachugh

‘There are too many flowers,
not enough vases.
Get some more!
The fairy lights are
supposed to form a crescent
like a Moon. Fix it.
Lanterns add a mystic
brightness to the windows.
Hang those at a perfect angle.
Hand out the pamphlets!
A special someone is coming.
Prepare everything.’

That’s how I ready my heart
when they are about to enter
for someone to feel at home.
That’s another story
It soon becomes a haunted house
of web, and, old wood and no light
When I hear them say
‘Ah! You again.’

©kanikachugh

I never expected to have grays at thirty-four,
some answers though.
Never expected the flush of emotions towering after I hit thirty
a bit of fire to die out though.
I wonder which ancestry had been
so violent in wants
that I inherited their fire without
properly knowing their soul, their childhood.
A brute force
some forces that I don’t wish to pursue.
It doesn’t let you sleep.

The past year had been
about crushing and cushioning
about scattering the pieces of mine away
and then finding a new brand of glue
about fighting off depression again
and dancing on dull hours of chores.

I have rested
a lot
I have pushed myself through
a lot
Tried to numb my brain
but paced my feet.
Not everything is a realisation
sometimes it’s siting on your couch,
back-dreaming on the days you were happy,
you were happy with the people you love
And being grateful that you got to live those.

Today might be hard
but you also got some easy ones
You might be waist-down in water
but eyes can see sky
and mouth can still breathe
It’s still fucking amazing.

I have, certainly, fallen for me
in a different way than I ever imagined.
On the days, when I couldn’t get up
on the days, I told myself to take it easy
when I was soft with me
when I controlled my anxiety.
Another goal reached without knowing
Afterwards,
being so unbelievably unstoppable
that balanced out my globe of tasks.

Learning is such a devil
And I love it.
Every year, there is a different
element of learning.
You gotta learn how to take care of a rose
to keep your pockets warm
You gotta learn which acid not to intake to prevent yourself from killing

I feel better than I was in my twenties
not that I resent my errs
But that girl was learning too.
And today’s girl is much more (also learning)
a more spiky, armoury reflection of her mother
a gullible, a clever teacup of sweetness
standing at the crossroad of youth and experience
She’s a Sugar mommy 😉

©kanikachugh

I see my crush in my dreams.
She breathes the minds of people around.
Doesn’t look alive
But carry her headstones wherever she goes.
The light is bright,
the trees are blue,
makes the grass eerily silent with her feet.
I wonder what do I like about her.
The deadness?
the windowless eyes?
Words like dark crime from her mouth?
She kills me each night in my dream
and I get resurrected every morning.
There is so much emptiness between us, so
I try to fill up with gazes and despaired tenderness.
We are like loose threads of a garment,
soon to be ripped off
Nothing to hold onto.
not even each other.
Nothing between us
yet I sleep so I could fill her emptiness with mine.
©️kanikachugh

P.S –Lesson no. 46385837 on
Why to not go for emotionally unavailable people.