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Lalit Kumar Apr 1
I sit, the world around me a blur,
Masi talks, but I’m lost in a stir.
Then, the call—unexpected, sharp and bright,
My heart leaps, racing into the night.

Why her, why now? My thoughts collide,
A hundred questions swirl, but none I can hide.
Should I pick up? Should I dare?
Her voice, her presence, it’s too much to bear.

The call drops—disconnected, left to wonder,
My heartbeat thunders like distant thunder.
Then the text, a playful jest,
"Yes, Your Highness," my chest does protest.

She replies, “I need to show you something,”
My pulse quickens, anticipation thumping.
A mystery, a pull, but I can't resist,
I pick up the phone, nervous, clenched fist.

She speaks, her voice like an old, sweet song,
And I hear laughter, where I belong.
But there’s more—Her friend by her side,
And their boyfriends, caught in the tide.

My heart skips—Romantic rival stands, so near,
And I can’t look away, trapped in fear.
She tells him to shut up, her voice a command,
And I watch, helpless, as life slips from my hand.

She turns, showing her saree’s glow,
A princess in pink, stealing my soul.
And I ask, “Are you at Lawgate?” with a smile,
She teases, “MBA,” for just a while.

“I’ll come back too,” I say, trying to play,
But inside I ache, like I’ve gone astray.
Her image haunts me, her beauty remains,
A moment lost, wrapped in chains.

Her voice soft, “Later,” she says with a sigh,
And I stand there, watching her leave, asking why.
She’s with him now, and I’m here, lost,
Her laughter echoes, my heart pays the cost.

We never were, yet we shared it all,
In the same PG, memories that call.
The quiet nights, the shared glances, the unsaid truth,
Now lost in time, like forgotten youth.

Her image stays, as vivid as then,
A beauty, a mystery, forever my friend.
Yet she walks with him, and I stand apart,
A stranger to her, with a broken heart.

Her smile, her saree, the memories remain,
But my heart races, lost in the pain.
Romantic, yes, but sadistic too,
For I loved her then, and still do.
Lalit Kumar Mar 26
She never asked him to stay.

Loving Loki was like chasing smoke—always slipping through her fingers just when she thought she had him. He would be there one night, draped over her couch with his usual smirk, spinning a dagger between his fingers. And by morning, he’d be gone, leaving only the ghost of his laughter behind.

It was a game between them. He would disappear. She would pretend not to care.

"Dramatic exits are your specialty, huh?" she teased once.

"Would you prefer I linger?" he had shot back, tilting his head.

She didn’t answer.

But then came the night he didn’t disappear. Not entirely.

That night, when she woke, groggy and reaching for water, she found something on her nightstand. A dagger—his dagger. The handle worn, the blade still warm from where he’d been holding it.

Loki never left things behind.

Her fingers ghosted over the metal. A message, a promise, unspoken.

And just like that, the rules of their game changed.

It became a habit.

When he was gone, the dagger would stay. When he was there, it would vanish from the nightstand and return to his belt. She never mentioned it. Neither did he. But every time she woke and saw it resting there, something in her chest softened.

Until one day, it didn’t return.

Days passed. Then weeks.

She told herself she didn’t care. That he had always been this way. But still, her fingers reached for the spot where it should have been. Empty.

And that was the night she finally broke the rule.

Standing at her window, looking at the stars, she whispered, “Just one more trick, please.”

As if the universe had been waiting for those words, a flicker of green shimmered in the air behind her.

"Missed me, darling?"

She turned, but this time, she didn’t tease. Didn’t joke. Instead, she closed the space between them, pressed a hand to his chest, and whispered back,

"Don’t vanish again."

For once, he didn’t.
Lalit Kumar Feb 28
The morning starts with a sigh and a stare,
"Any job updates?"—the question floats in the air.
Tea on the table, tension in the air,
Unseen weights on every chair.

Children bend beneath the books,
Pages filled with worried looks.
Marks define their worth, they say,
A childhood slowly fading away.

Mom’s voice rises, a familiar song,
Dishes clatter, something’s wrong.
Bills to pay, clothes to mend,
A cycle of worries that never end.

The father nods, the news plays loud,
Another day lost within the crowd.
Dreams are trimmed to fit the mold,
Stories of risks left untold.

And yet, amidst the noise and strife,
This is home, this is life.
Love wrapped in scolding, care in demands,
A house held up by tired hands.
fray narte Jan 2020
No longer will the daybreak find letters
sent in a rush to the last of the stars.
No longer will it find
a box of fallen eyelashes and wishbones
and birthday candles
and all the remnants of these lips
wishing for cancelled plans and library dates
and warm Sunday afternoons
spent on kitchen floors,
running high on shared laziness and unwashed shirts.

Darling, love’s eyes are never ours
to behold in these daylight-tainted
sheets;

so if it’s darkness that shows me the safe space,
that allows our eyes to collide like seas
if it’s neon lights and the noise of the bass that look at us —
like we’re a well-buried secret
like t h i s,
can be poetry
just underlain by permafrost,

then maybe this —
you.
and a white flag waved in the dark: a fair trade —
can be beautiful, can be enough in itself.

Then maybe it’s fine not knowing;
maybe it’s fine not being yours.
fray narte Jun 2019
i can no longer say i love you
without coughing up
a calyx of petals, darling;
a flower,
for every written poetry,
a flower,
for each metaphor for your eyes.
a flower,
for each pillow-talk,
for each time i looked for
your amber eyes in a crowd,
a flower,
for each sunset wish
and each love letter buried
at the end of every song, darling —
a flower, for each time
i say i love you
without trying to say your name —
a flower for each time
i listen
to pareidolias of your voice
mixed
with the pitter-patters of the rain.

just a flower, i thought.

but darling, my lungs are now a garden
of your favorite flowers;

they are now a garden
of all the times
i tried to unlove you
and all the times
i ever failed.

darling, they are now a garden
of all my i love you’s

and all the
i love you too’s
you won’t
ever
say.
Alexandrea Dec 2018
I am not the girl who's every man's dream
you have no idea, you have no clue
just how much i always think about you.
You should know that my heart is at your feet
I leave it there to do whatever you wish.
When I look at you my heart skips a beat,
take my heart or leave me in this burning bliss
The voices left inside make me ill,
So i always keep it inside my heart
But i wanted to tell you how i feel
I'm still hoping that nothing falls apart,
hoping that my heart cannot be broken
Just because my love for you is
Unspoken
Nikki Sep 2015
She, blank-stared, eyes
The color of the forest
And filled with joy

Or none, her hands
Tight around his heart
She warns, don't say it

Sometimes he caves,
He gives into her carnal desires
And let's another night pass
Without saying how he feels

Sometimes he breaks,
Tells her that she makes
His heart beat like a drum
And he feels her everywhere
A burning passion

She, blank-stared, only listens
But she wishes she could
Let the words escape her mouth
"You mean everything to me"
David Stresow Apr 2014
Look at the stars,
and tell me where we are
while it's pitch-black dark
and cars pass so fast
we lose our balance

Look at me in
a gaze from our sins
while it's midnight dim
and we pale under lights
of a gas station
I wrote this about a love that's unspoken but definitely there

— The End —