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Ankita Gupta Aug 5
It's been years since we left
Not just us but also the place where us existed
If places moved on, I would have taken ours with me
Would have claimed it to be mine in the aftereffects of the separation
Would have fought for it in the court of places for full custody
All the nooks and corners would have been mine to embrace
They would still have you in memory, and that's what we would have had in common
We both would have been craving for your presence, but too stubborn to let you in though
But for better or worse, places don't move on and that's what we indeed have in common
Ankita Gupta Aug 5
Just like the summer afternoon in December
You are both a wish and a memory

Layers and layers of cloth to shield
But can't keep the heart warmly

The words, music and pictures
All but I have remained yours truly

Like the signature at the end of a long email
This just is overlooked me, sincerely
Ankita Gupta Feb 17
Everyday is spring, Everyday is autumn
Today is Summer, infamously hot and stagnant

Clouds are still, leaves don't rustle
Birds have gone away and all there's left is sun

There are burns from winter, frozen for too long
No summer warm enough to melt, though today tries

Come again someday when there is spring, when there is autumn
Be summer with ice then, and maybe melt away
Ankita Gupta Jan 27
By design, you put roof over me
By nature, I need the sun
Ankita Gupta Nov 2019
Yesteryears!
That's what you get for living a life.
A life like a city, in a city.
You get the rushed parts, the gardens, caf├ęs and ice cream parlors.
You also get the schools, markets and the clinics for the hurt.
Yesteryears! That's all you ever going to be needing for living a life.
Ankita Gupta Sep 2019
On some very rare occasions, or maybe every fortnight
I let you slip in my mind, in the middle of the night
Just a little I let my lips remember yours, the bittersweet taste and all
I run my fingers in your hair, maybe they weren't this long
Snapshots of you, fragments of your touch on my skin burns
And someday I won't remember, how there wasn't an inch between us
But tonight, I will let you slip in mind, just for this time
On some very rare occasions or maybe every fortnight
Ankita Gupta Aug 2019
Peeking in, sitting by the half dug hole in the ground
Finding worms in the sand as if a can got open
I stare into the nothingness of this roots like labyrinth
Shovel resting on the side nudges to be put to use
Wait, hold on a little, while I decide to plant a seed or dig a grave
It would be a birth nonetheless, only followed by death
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