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I tend to forgive easily
But not forget
Internalise, future safe

Insecure people
Believe it or not
Make me shiver in my shell
Sounds like written gossip
But all true

Lost my inhibitions today
One day
Boldly I will say

Quick witted not
Dim witted neither
Absence and presence
A balance

A promise to my thoughts
Will set them free
Words allured me for long
My thoughts, it’s here they belong
chitragupta Jul 2019
When she takes the hairpin out
and the darkness of the night flows down
Sparks of fire in those streaks of brown
And in that ocean tranquil, I wish to drown

When she rolls her eyes in annoyance
the world stops it's pitiful rotation
Time realises it's gross subjugation
And I relish that helping of frozen frustration

When she arches her brows inward
I pray that her temples don't fall for my error
A silent earthquake which may devour me forever
And in my heart held hostage, I feel it's tremors

When she twists the corners of her lips in a smile
the Sun starts peeking out from the clouds
Spectral drums in my heart beat aloud
And for this petty victory, I feel so proud

When she speaks into my ears
I lose all grasp on language and grammar
In her divine symphony composed of glamour
I cannot help but lose myself, feel enamored

-x-

As the clock keeps ticking, I ask but of her
these moments priceless
Knowing well that she may love these lines,
but not the man who writes them
Been really inspired by Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore this week. I remember I wasn't too fond of his work growing up, but now I realise what a fool I've been.
chitragupta Jul 2019
हमारी मोहब्बत पे यकीन ना आया उन्हें
वो समझीं बस हमारी नादानी है

लकीर ए सियाही से इजहार जो फरमाएं
मालूम हुआ वो किसी और की दीवानी है

कीड़ा किताबी, अब बन गया शराबी
रगों में खून नहीं, जाम और पानी है

मगर दर्द की चादर में लिपटने का क्या फायदा
सिर्फ हमारी नहीं, ये तो हर शायर की ज़ुबानी है

वही पुरानी कहानी है
Was probably not a good idea to take a break from writing in the first place.

Translation:

The same old story

She wasn't convinced of my feelings
She thought my love was naivety

With ink and lines I expressed my love
But found her infatuation lay elsewhere

The bookworm, now indulged in drink,
Spirit and water flow through these bloodless veins

But it is pointless to be shrouded in sadness
For it is not mine alone, this is every poet's tale

That same old story
chitragupta Jun 2019
I would like to fly
to the far ends of the Earth
in your trail-

(But these wings were clipped so freshly
torn so frightfully, ripped so ferally
Alas! How cruel is destiny..)

-yet with
ichor and remembrance,
I shall have to be content
Now a little deception of my own.
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