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Sukanya Basu Jul 2020
I could be a shaman, and imagine my wife making pancakes
And little children playing around with hand-made kites;

Truest behind dreams that interpret our living,
I have been scrammed inside a 7/9 metal jar
Where the only living creature swimming around
Is imaginary and I call her hope;

People do not advertise money;

And I hoped they did!
Life would be a whole lot easier.
Sukanya Basu Jun 2020
By the time I was 30,
I was delusional about warmth,
July, May and April
Or the closure of human arms;

It was pointless to argue
Caesar met his end,
I turned my back, everybody was gone
I needn't count to ten.
Sukanya Basu Jun 2020
Goodbye.

February roses and dreams of being an author;

It's absolutely drastic and dark
To think that things work out in the end.

Do not send me poems or sunset pictures;

I hate Romance,

I hate that I can't un-love you.
Sukanya Basu Jun 2020
I wish I could have run away a little different.
My lego and the birds in the skies have shuffled themselves into arrows pointing towards a disaster, and I wanted mom to clean up my toys and the mistakes I had made on the way.

When I read about Natural disasters, they never spoke about you.

Or what I could lead myself to believe.


Will writing postcards solve my problems or prevent the world from breaking apart into races and shallow pretence where we don't run after dead birds falling from the sky or mirrors that speak about why you drank yourself to death at four in the morning when your mom killed herself.

Do they talk about you?

I wonder why they never teach us in our eight grade to never fall in love or that your dog might die someday and you'd be too young to understand why everybody leaves.

I hope by the time I am 35, I'd have someone to interrupt my black and white movies and say silly things that would make me so annoyed that I'd kiss him and never let go.
Sukanya Basu May 2020
My mother told me that Gold fishes were priceless
I doubted her like her previous lovers,
I wondered why she never replied to my letters
Was she a fraud under-cover?

I wondered what happened to my childhood friend
She had killed herself, I never could see the end

I wondered why she hadn't written back?
Was it because of the love she never had?

I wondered why gold fishes were necessary,
She is prettier, they aren't extraordinary
They swim and they ease into the background
They aren't relevant,
They don't make a sound
They die when their owners don't take care of them
They float they don't feel pain

I think I am a gold fish, I swim to the brim
I get hurt and suffer and yet,
nobody notices a thing.
Sukanya Basu May 2020
I remember when I met you back in winter
It was snowing outside and really cool,
I meant to send postcards through the summer,
I wanted to hand you the moon;

I remember every book that you were reading,
You face glowed like crystal through the noon,
I'll love you forever, my lovely,

I'll hang myself really soon.
Sukanya Basu Apr 2020
She walked into a room to find
butterflies that their owners had left behind

They were dead and scattered around;

She fell on the floor and shut her eyes

he ripped her head and stabbed her twice,



She was left to die
In a room full of butterflies.
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