“You don’t have to cry”, not to me, she told herself.
They moved towards the dark,
matching his slow steps. He, humming
his blurred laugh, more blurred
I search you in your
Faded bricks,in your
Your barren mornings,in
Those sly nights.
Your pretentious laugh
Talks of that past
Flickering in your corners,
But those eyelids hide the
The dusty mist.
Melting strides of a little Neon, synch with the fading Brown.
Of a Clichéd Contrast We heard while growing up, that of Dark and Bright, that of Silence and Noise. It is years that will make you feel, what this Contrast you hear of really means. Place: Audrey House,(~160 years old building) Ranchi, Jharkhand, India.
Legs are trained,to hault at Calls, ‘Bees Rupya Paao,’ and tongue,to haggle over each price you talk of, ‘Das me Dijiye’. Days trained these shoulders to brush past, ‘Thoda hatiye,’ and eyes to spot the fresh of all, ‘Taaza nahi hai?’ It’s the sound that holds the story, never letting you hear what sits behind.
‘Bare-hands are a habit,’ I said, while taking off these bangles you brought me that year,when I had two hearts inside.
She leaves the trails For her
Young whites,Vacating all slow.
Maybe these Nights are
Bragging her history of blood.