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neha-bhatt
neha-bhatt
Forever rambling
My mother dropped me, At 7 months into the low-end of our backyard pool and Watched my tiny legs kick to safety, My two doughy hands reaching to hers Now, years later, I see myself Standing at the edge of the glary water, Trusting my own heaviness, I let myself fall In reply, cold water slaps Against my back and is mixed with some fluid in the eyes, Until my feet touch the ground and my hands reach for nothing And I didn’t pass on much, At 15, I gathered all things on my naïve list, Stirred it with lemonade and I was stepping in the tunnel It was dark at first, very I think I expected it, I welcomed it as one of the footnotes in the Oxford definition of “life” New faces swimming in my eye every time I blink, radio playing brand new songs And strangers who hum along Out of them, some faces reminds me of my childhood friends with whom I made mud castles, They are wearing pretty dandelion shaped masks I like them Not always the lemonade turn out to be too sour, The masks were sugar and The tunnel, it was still dark Until I felt some warm shimmering thing on my lips Like me, he was the sun It was so beautiful that all his atoms hum at different frequency We rearranged each other The pen I pick was now my love so was he The dog, the coffee, the breezy winter We had it all, under our eye lids He clasped my cold hands, pulled till half of them glistened with the kiss of sun And my body became his new color palette It was late October, and we’d just finish another song No, we didn’t fight, you just smashed your phone against the windshield The very next date, I’d capture you in my camera on the highway scenic overlook, hands up, Like you’re holding the sun We were on a roll, darling It started to rain in the middle of summer, No presents that Christmas Before I could start romanticizing heartache, My eyes, treacherous eyes, once again wide open, I was in the tunnel, It is still dark
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May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC
Silly
My mother dropped me, At 7 months into the low-end of our backyard pool and Watched my tiny legs kick to safety, My two doughy hands reaching to hers Now, years later, I see myself Standing at the edge of the glary water, Trusting my own heaviness, I let myself fall In reply, cold water slaps Against my back and is mixed with some fluid in the eyes, Until my feet touch the ground and my hands reach for nothing And I didn’t pass on much, At 15, I gathered all things on my naïve list, Stirred it with lemonade and I was stepping in the tunnel It was dark at first, very I think I expected it, I welcomed it as one of the footnotes in the Oxford definition of “life” New faces swimming in my eye every time I blink, radio playing brand new songs And strangers who hum along Out of them, some faces reminds me of my childhood friends with whom I made mud castles, They are wearing pretty dandelion shaped masks I like them Not always the lemonade turn out to be too sour, The masks were sugar and The tunnel, it was still dark Until I felt some warm shimmering thing on my lips Like me, he was the sun It was so beautiful that all his atoms hum at different frequency We rearranged each other The pen I pick was now my love so was he The dog, the coffee, the breezy winter We had it all, under our eye lids He clasped my cold hands, pulled till half of them glistened with the kiss of sun And my body became his new color palette It was late October, and we’d just finish another song No, we didn’t fight, you just smashed your phone against the windshield The very next date, I’d capture you in my camera on the highway scenic overlook, hands up, Like you’re holding the sun We were on a roll, darling It started to rain in the middle of summer, No presents that Christmas Before I could start romanticizing heartache, My eyes, treacherous eyes, once again wide open, I was in the tunnel, It is still dark
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Her name was this unforgettable charm I was overwhelmed By her sky like beauty Ever widening Into separate heavens, Her voice Will promise you The song of forever She is enigmatic, Pressing into my ribs Like a ghost does When it flies back home, She was firm As two cantaloupes Dripping and dripping I love her; Her core to her sky Once, twice, into eternity There’s a crater That matches her hand Scarred into my heart Maybe and often entangled together She appear as daydreams But she is real, I feel it more Then I care to admit, Like a Plath’s poem She pinches the heart Of her reader, She can lick the truth From your false face O’ her eyes, Can start a drama, As her friend Isabelle says, She reads books Of only dead people, So does she talks to their ghosts, Slowly she moves Like a never fading colour, Filling up your tea cup Maybe with something more than tea, You’ll know her more When her honey dripping voice fills your ears, Nothing is new Nothing is mystery Apparently She is Fragile Fervent She is unskinned And Red
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Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
Red