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s y kalindara Feb 25
Take me back to Abington Street,
the first place you ever saw me.
I'd care to meet you again,
in that peach dress,
on a Wednesday singing of serendipity.

Take me back to Whitworth Road,
my forgotten home, our modern haven,
where we danced around the garden and kitchen,
for the moon's eyes, under fairy lights.

Take me back to The White Elephant,
and feeling elegant in my blue dress.
Matching strides and laughter in the air,
you stopped to pick a scarlet rose
and pinned it to my hair.

Take me back to The Racecourse,
and spilling secrets in the dark,
fireworks interrupting this trance in the park.
Remember how I laughed and asked if this was real?
And you heartened me with a "yes, it's not a dream or a movie scene."

Take me back to Avenue Library,
to the kisses behind bookshelves
and the whispers of poetry.

Take me back to Canons Ashby Road,
when black cabs past midnight
carried me back to your home.
That little house with the picket fence,
snowing in albums and childhood innocence.

Take me back to The Wedgwood,
to drinking cokes and playing pool,
our eyes meeting in every room.

Take me back to that black leather couch,
where I memorised the shape of your mouth.

Take me back to the cradle of your arms and your broken bed,
I've never felt comfort anywhere else.

Take me back to Abington Street,
the last place you ever saw me.


Copyright © 2020 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
Okay this is the last poem I'm writing about Jordan ****. what can I say folks, I miss him.
s y kalindara Dec 2019
They rest in my stomach
rule the beats of my heart,
soaring under my skin
and through my shaking limbs.
Masked and waiting,
to shred me apart.

In public spaces,
the crowds and faces
spark their power over me.
I close my eyes and count to three.
Still, I can barely breathe.
Steadily swallowing my energy
till vertigo sweeps me off my feet.

Their fluttering wings,
my trembling knees,
both daring my eyes to betray me.
They demand a sacrifice.
I offer cups of fresh tears.
Only the best for
the vessels of my fears.

I can't be careful to the nth degree.
They'll catch on to shifts in my atmosphere.
I can't even pretend they aren't here.
The beats of the butterflies are always near.


Copyright © 2019 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
Rewrote my poem 'Anxiety'. Which version do you prefer?
s y kalindara Nov 2019
I don't know where to lay it;
all this rain,
this flame that I had for him,
still kindling my heart to the brim.

I only know it's tipping my scales,
an anchoring trail,
and every compass I hold asks me to pick.

Will you swim or will you sink?


Copyright © 2019 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
Hold on to you and all the memories whether good or bad, or let go once and for all?
s y kalindara Nov 2019
I cried a puddle that filled the seven seas
that night you told me of your plans to leave
this house,
this town,
this life,
and me.

Talk of how it took you a fine time,
how you needed this now more than ever.
You voiced it so gently, as you held me
still, your touch left me none the better.

Grieving you came in countless forms
heartache,
eating cake,
wide awake on the floor.
Drained and despaired, I picked up the phone.
"I need to see you, I can't do this on my own."

Stained face,
puffy eyes,
unwashed hair.
Crumbling tissues in my lap, leaning back in a chair.

Cool lights cast back in her kind eyes,
silent stretches fill my time,
till my yarn unravelled,
line by line.

Heavy heart leaking on the carpeted floor.
Her voice steadying my breath once more.
I feel ready to take over, to regain control.

And with a mind unstirred,
vision unblurred,
a cleared up nose,
my hour with Emma came to a close.


Copyright © 2019 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
I had to take a trip back to therapy after he moved away because it broke me. I was doing so well for almost a year, but I literally couldn't function from how sad I was. I'm not ashamed that I needed to see someone, just surprised at how much influence this change had on me.
s y kalindara Jun 2019
The hazy hours, the break of dawn.
The candlelight kindling your living room.
The ardour of your fingertips, brushing my palm.
The question you asked me, hanging in doom.

"There's something I need to clarify, contest this but don't ask why.
Could you list five things you like about yourself?
The light is green, give it a try."

The shadows of lashes painting my skin.
My downcast eyes saturate to the brim.
The blocks in my head, the lump in my throat,
Why haven't I an answer to this simple poll?

Stuffed with self-loathing?
Weighted with doubt?
Could that be the root of my soft-pedal mouth?
I made a bid,
I lifted a finger,
The answer never came, the longer I lingered.

"Your silence has met my expectations.
I can't ask you for your love if you can't give it to yourself.
I can't pick up the tessera to put back on the shelf.
The mosaic is your own, here's the polish and a crown,
I'll stand by and watch, to fault my preconceptions.
I'll stand by and wait, in anticipation."


Copyright © 2019 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
A typical "I can't love you if you don't love yourself" scenario.
Don't fall for it, it's *******. Everyone deserves to be loved.
s y kalindara Mar 2019
I see the stages of our days-
as markings in calendars and time stamps on calls,
signs of devotion, all in all.
I see them in reels of film
and picture frames,
playing on shut-eye screens,
and hanging, in the walls of my mind.
Visions of a life that passes me by.

The look in your eyes when you tell me "you're mine".
The sound of your laugh, how it melts like honey and warms me inside.
The taste of your lips, when you've had a lot to drink. Your saccharine smile, flushing china pink.
The feel of your hands, caressing the ivory. Dreaming up melodies so effortlessly.
The scent of your neck, of daisies that daze me, when you're all over me.

Enamoured with the way you walk, your hands in your pockets.
How you care for your dogs, and every living thing.
Your mind and the riddles it speaks, the genius of your thoughts sweep me off my feet.
And how you sleep so gracefully, how you reach out to me and wrap me in your arms unconsciously.

I beg my heart to capture this, to remember this,
I wouldn't want to forget it.
Like permanent tattoos and ancient wallpaper
I want you inked and plastered
in journals, poetry, & my psyche.
I do this just in case, for my heart's sake,
There's no doubt of you leaving my mind.
I can say it with candour,
There's no putting you away,
You, in all your symmetry, are here to stay.


Copyright © 2019 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
About Jordan (of course, could I be more in love?). In the words of wolf alice- "when I see you the whole world reduces to just that room", and that's exactly how I feel. I notice everything about him when I'm with him. I never want to sleep or blink or look away. I love being in his home and just watching him live, he makes it look so beautiful.
s y kalindara Feb 2019
I sit back, reminisce and daydream of our first kiss.
How it made my head spin,
and livened my heart,
took off with my breath
as we danced with the stars.
Swaying on tiptoes
in the grass to a song,
moving closer and closer
in your arms where I belong.
A smile escapes your lips,
you knew what to do,
entranced by the words
"You've got me wanting you"
You leaned down for a kiss,
to follow through.
For a sweet instant, the world fell to a hush
Stepping back, I couldn't help,
couldn't strive not to blush.

It's a moment that I keep
under heavy lock and key.
I dare not to share it,
I keep it just for me.
Count this an exception, I wrote it down this time.
Let the relic of our first kiss never die.


Copyright © 2019 by S. Y. Kalindara. All rights reserved.
Snapshot of my first kiss with Jordan. We spent the whole day together after meeting for the first time and it happened when we were back in my garden, dancing to sugar sugar by the archies. Perfect ending to the perfect day **.
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