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toward western hills
the last vestiges of light
sink as day draws down
out toward the west
last vestiges of day light
slowly reclined
Idiosyncrasy May 2018
There are moments I wish to forget
There seem to be vestiges of you everywhere
That I see things not as they are
But a shadow, a spark, a thread of you

It's been some time
Enough to think I was okay
Then one day I smell your scent and your vague image slowly turned into my sharpest memory

Or maybe you were always the clearest memory
Which I chose to hide in the closet
Because I know I couldn't forget

But this is how I want to forget
I wish I could open the door and not think of the last time you closed it
I wish I could say goodbye without hearing you say it back

And these aren't all
I find myself hoping I could put all the happy moments behind
Because they were hard to beat and I never felt the same

Sometimes I wish
I could listen to a song and not hear your voice singing it to me
And read a book without seeing your delicate fingers hold the pages' ends

I wish I could wake up and not see your smile shining brighter than the sun
Or tuck the blankets in without feeling your arms wrapping around me

But I know
I know I can brave this world with just the precious memories of you.
I never thought I'd say these again.
27-09-17
fruit and honey Aug 2015
Leaving messages on foggy bathroom mirrors. Leaving lipstick crescents on the rims of tea mugs. Leaving the front door unlocked. Leaving, a lot.
every time she leaves she leaves a trace and it takes my breath away
Äŧül Dec 2012
On my left wrist,
My left knee &
My memory
I carry the vestiges of 7th May, 2010.

Physical marks of,
A grievous peril
When I was
I was on the death bed, the bed number 7.

Dreaded bed it is,
In the SGRH &
Only those
Hopeless cases with death knocking are granted 7.

Only child I am,
My parents
Were
Apprehensive about my survival from the 20-day coma.

But their worries,
Care & concern
Paid off
And today I write this poem - contrary to what the doctors had initially said.

And the people,
They wince
At My
Scars - Scared from their own instant imagination of the pain that I've been through.

To some other people,
I'm a living miracle
And to others
I am just a man who glorifies his sufferings - to his own merit anywhere and everywhere .

To the ones of the last kind,
I just have the words
That nobody can
Or rather nobody wants to change their thinking or tell them to try knocking their senses off for weeks.
Initially after my accident when I was in a general hospital, the doctors there had told my father to do the last services & just shook their heads to my mother
SGRH - Sir Ganga Ram's Hospital is a state-of-the-art hospital located at New Delhi where I was saved - by the doctors, my own will-power & my well-wishers' blessings

© Atul Kaushal

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