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422 · Dec 2014
Snipe hunt
Tanya Chaudhary Dec 2014
She was lost. In the Darkness of the Night Sky.
Blankly staring at it, she began chasing stars.
Beyond one’s understanding, beyond her own… they called her lost.
Deranged as she was, condemned the Stars
And chose to chase ‘him’ instead
The one who is not miles apart,
And yet far away.
For impossible was chasing him.
For impossible was chasing a dream.
For impossible is not, chasing the stars.
412 · Jan 2015
Thank you
Tanya Chaudhary Jan 2015
Memories, few I have now.
Which is better, if you think how?
I do not think it was planned.
I pray it was never intended,
I hope it was destined.
I would love to believe,
that it was a bad timing.
A result of mixed up,
wrongly fused confusion.
I knew from the beginning,
or should I say from the ending.
This love of mine won’t work out.
And so you left.
I burned out.
And you couldn't even see the damage.
My hot tears scaling down and leaving scars on my skin.
The noise that your absence left behind.
The clutter, the mess, the chaos and the scrapes
and the caramel taste
of the days gone by.

You rejected me.
I rejected me.
Until, I was a claustrophobe
I couldn't breathe.

But, then I cracked open.
And light seared through my aching, contused soul.
I stitched my unbolted ends.
But the flowing thread faltered.
I erupted.
I detonated.
Leaving myself weak and disrupted.

So, I laid in the sun and I allowed.
The wind, the storm, the rain came,
and I weathered whatever they gave.
I stayed open and empty.
And finally opened my eyes.
I discovered, you ruined us
but you hadn't ruined me.
I was glistening, glittering, shimmering and glowing.
My aching soul that was burnt and pressurized
had now, crystallized.

Dear, you whisked away the love.
But, you left behind a diamond.

So, thank you.

© TanyaC. 2015.
407 · Oct 2014
c h a n g e
Tanya Chaudhary Oct 2014
From Hello :) to Goodbyes.

You blink once,
it is broad daylight.
You blink twice,
You are next sleeping with the love of your life.
You blink thrice,
It was all disguise, you realize.
Blink the fourth time,
You are crying under the deep dark skies.
Blink some more, and
You are reminiscing the times,
getting lost again in his dark brown eyes.

Change.
A word with a world inside.
It happens in small, unnoticeable fractions,
but leaves more rubble
than earth-smashing tremors.

Change.
*A word that makes me sad and hopeful,
at the very same time.
399 · Sep 2014
410 Gone
Tanya Chaudhary Sep 2014
A hundred many varied pictures
Flicker through my head,
But the one I yearn most desperately
Has found a place to hide.

I know I had it with me,
It’s always been right here,
I only had to think your name
For your image to appear.

It’s tried to slip away before
And I’ve hold on with all my might,
But as the days changed to months into years,
I lost my strength to fight.

I knew this was coming,
But somehow I’m unprepared,
The hints have been so subtle,
Yet I knew that they were there.

It started with your daunting eyes,
How the color seemed different each day,
Your face became less definite
As you slowly faded away.

But still I thought I had more time,
If only with your likeness,
I never thought I’d wake today
To such devastating blindness.

I’ve tried and tried to call you back,
But there’s nothing I can do,
Your image has left me stranded;
I no longer remember you.
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398 · Jul 2014
delirium . . .
Tanya Chaudhary Jul 2014
I tried to make sense,
of my past tense.
Of lust that, maybe was there.
Of love that was definitely there.
I tried to ponder at length,
how these two are apart.
I tried to close my eyes,
I tried to breathe slow,
But you, your face and smile,
makes both my heart and body smirk and glow.
So, what exactly is the thing that I feel for you.
Then I tried to think at depth,
and decided to match the culprit words "love" and "lust",
And the only word I came up with was - LOST.

*It does not matter that it is me.
Although I look for you in everyone I see.
395 · Jan 2015
Things I love about him ...
Tanya Chaudhary Jan 2015
Let me start with his eyes.
Deep. Dark. And quiet.
His nose, which is crooked,
but he doesn't know.
The pout, his lips,
waiting to be kissed.
His lean torso.
His defined collar bone.
His skinny legs.
His warm hands.
His long fingers.
His straight back.
His dark brown hair.
every single strand of his hair.
His peaceful smile.
His many likes.
His few dislikes.
I love his imperfections.
I love his being.
His blessed existence.
His simple heart.
His beautiful mind.

I.... love him.
I really love him.

I just somehow do.
And I hate myself for it.
372 · Oct 2014
dichotomous
Tanya Chaudhary Oct 2014
She is a enigma,
Difficult to comprehend,
but easy to pretend.
                                                                ­                                   She is freedom.
                                                        ­                                     Yet she is a desire.
She robs attention,
she steal thoughts.
                                                       ­                               She has a bright smile.
                                                          ­                         Yet she has a dark heart.
You can see the twinkle in her eyes,
but not her scars and her marks.
                                                                ­                       She makes herself fly,
                                                            ­                but inside her heart she lies.
She is a mystery,
An open book to everyone,
To only have each person read a few pages,
And not the entire chapter.
                                                        ­       She plays so many different people.
                                                  With time, she has become a brilliant actor.
She is her person.
                                                         ­                              She is a kaleidoscope.

                        *She is like a splash of rainbow on a canvas,
               later photographed and printed in black and white.
367 · Jan 2015
Dated: 1st January, 2015
Tanya Chaudhary Jan 2015
2015.
A blank anthology.
Different authors.
One compiler. I.
And this is -
page 1 of 365.
I hope 2015 is the year where things fall into place. Nevertheless, Happy New Year
364 · Nov 2014
Who are you?
Tanya Chaudhary Nov 2014
I can describe you,
paraphrase you,
decorate you
with gazillion words.

But today, in three sentences I would impart
that
**You are the assassin.
You are the knife.
You are the wound in my heart.
362 · Oct 2014
Quandary
Tanya Chaudhary Oct 2014
Such a dilemma.

do you choose to remain sad
cry & water the flowers
or
get better & have them die?
357 · Nov 2014
better left unsaid?
Tanya Chaudhary Nov 2014
"Oh, I love that movie."

"I love that show."

"I love that song."

                                     To all those statements
                                       I give him some reply,
                                           when every time
                                        I just want to write


                                                         ­                       "and I love you."
Tanya Chaudhary Sep 2014
Poetry comes out of countless things
Out of apprehension. Out of monotony
Out of walking in circles on a straight road
Because you need to do something
But there is nothing to do.

Poetry comes out of the frantic mind
That can only be settled
By the daunting maze of language
Which when properly arranged together
Could level the intelligence of humans.

Poetry comes out of that fleeting glance
From the eyes of the man you love
Who has never loved you
That leaves you wondering,  dreaming and hoping
And always crushed & crumbled in the end.

Poetry comes out of loneliness
In the presence of your dear friends
When even the closest of faces
Seem nothing more than an apparition
Come haunting from a vintage photograph.

Poetry comes out of the pitter patter of rain drops
Carried through an open evening window
On a breeze that brings with it
The memories impossible to evade
And the frigidness of an impending winter.

Poetry comes out of banal things.
Out of broken hearts and despondent loves,
Out of full ashtrays and empty bottles,
Out of murky and thunderous nights,
When the rain bombards the rooftops.

Poetry comes out of affection and out of abomination
Out of rapture as much as melancholy
Out of enigma by dark and awe by day
But above all, poetry comes out of life,
And thus, the poet must be left to his own with death.
352 · Jul 2014
stuporous
Tanya Chaudhary Jul 2014
A lie often repeated, even to oneself, becomes a fact.
A fact that is your truth.
A fact that has your sanctity.
A fact that has your confidence.
A fact with conviction.
A fact with faith.
A fact with your trust.
And you are so sure with that assumption or that lie,
that when the truth comes back to haunt you,
you hide in the thickest blanket ever.
In a state of induced oblivion.

Oblivion is the place where all my best thoughts reside or I must say hide.
Because Where I will find peace other than in oblivion?
So, yes, that unreal thing is real.
the truth is now untrue.
Indeed, it's a  happy world
when you just don't have a clue.

*"The great events of life often leave one unmoved; they pass out of consciousness, and, when one thinks of them, become unreal. Even the scarlet flowers of passion seem to grow in the same meadow as the poppies of oblivion.” - Oscar Wilde
352 · Aug 2014
Lust.
Tanya Chaudhary Aug 2014
The first words I hear
Every night:
"What's it going to be tonight?"
These are, oft-times,
The final words too....
342 · Oct 2014
the biggest imprecation
Tanya Chaudhary Oct 2014
"may my (pseudo) enemy deeply fall in love.

                                         and


                                                    may he never find it."
337 · Sep 2014
September Love
Tanya Chaudhary Sep 2014
I think I am in Love,
with September.
Or
Maybe I love him,
the September born boy.
Maybe.
Definitely.
Maybe at the death of summer,
the invincible autumn made me alive!
336 · Oct 2014
just why?
Tanya Chaudhary Oct 2014
Why do we care about a person,
who doesn't care about us?

Why does someone loves more,
when the other does not?

Why some memorable decisions seem good,
when you are under the influence?

Why letting go is easy
and moving on so difficult?

Why do I now like the nights
and not the sunshine?

Why do I walk know circles
On a distinct straight line?

Why do I listen to some songs,
knowing that I'll cry?

Why do some people find it so difficult,
to say goodbye?

Why do I question my respect,
Everytime I feel an unfamiliar touch?

Why I still write about you,
when you clearly don't give a ****?

Why am I the joker and the recluse,
at the very same time?


Why something so pure as love,
today seems like a crime?

Why?
Tanya Chaudhary Dec 2014
Dense fog.
Loveless clouds.
Blacks and Greys.
Barks of hounds.

Desolate streets.
Footsteps indiscreet.
Frosty skin.
Icy stares.
Chilly silence, and
nippy air.

I add layer
upon layer.

Of prayer
upon prayer.

and wait for the shivers to begin.
For I have seen colder weather.
326 · Dec 2014
of walking and talking.
Tanya Chaudhary Dec 2014
We talk.
We share.
Our words.
In thinner air.
I walk the talk.
You talk the talk &
Don't walk the walk.
In the end I am,
still happy
with our
small
talks.
303 · Jun 2014
Oh Dreams, Why Dreams?
Tanya Chaudhary Jun 2014
I wake up confused,
Thinking was I used?
Or abused?
Or just misused?

You are recurrent. Unstoppable.
Each night, you seem more audible.

I know, I am a dreamer
And it's in my nature to imagine
Of world unknown and
Of ignited passion.

But, these dreams
Make me wake up all soaked
In sweat and guilt.
It's incomprehensible. I feel so choked.

Seven nights, seven dreams, seven days of a week.
Every day, each day, same dream as if part of a powerful clique.

I tried to decipher you,
Know you, meet you, oh dreams!
Why are you bothering me?
What do you want?
Or are you hinting on something,
It seems...

Lost among this confusion,
I conferred
That this may just be,
A reality deferred.

(Soon)
292 · Aug 2014
foredoom
Tanya Chaudhary Aug 2014
The way it began I should have known.
Thinking that it'll work out, how could I be so wrong.
Held the thread of hope for way too long.
But he never came around. He was always gone.
I should have noticed the pattern, the downfall.
Because
**We first made love on a break up song.
276 · Oct 2014
Again.
Tanya Chaudhary Oct 2014
Again I fumbled,
On my head I tumbled.
Again.

Again I smiled,
at my luck
and how he smiles.
Again.

Again I smirked,
on his antics... his words.
Again.

Again I died,
the chill when he touched.
Electricity of love and lust.
Again.

Again I was born,
knowing that he exists,
even though he isn't in my life's scheme.
Again.

Again I fall in love.
Everyday. Everytime.
Always Again.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-EsUYQ6xrk
266 · Sep 2014
Music & Lyrics
Tanya Chaudhary Sep 2014
"I hate your music, it's nothing but noise!"
I lowered it down, as I just walked by.
I turned around and saw him stare.
I could sense in his eyes, the sentence was "How Dare?"

I guess the perpetual problem was this -
*While he cared about the music, I cared about the lyrics.
263 · Jun 2014
Spectrum
Tanya Chaudhary Jun 2014
I thought I am brave,
and I won't crave,
Of something that never was mine,
was never mine to take.

But today, a normal humid day,
I am left to my sources. Alone in my house. My heart is the prey.
I feel stupid and naive.
I just feel deceived.
I feel a null, a void and disbelief.

I just feel I feel too much to be felt.
But still, I don't hate you.
Because indirectly you taught me how to fly.
You taught me it's okay to say "goodbye".
You made me strong like a brick.
Ah, but when I see your smile, it still does the trick.
My heart still flutters and I feel dazed.
oh that smile, what magnificence. what grace.

I won't say I love because you might not say it back.
And it's okay, because I have accepted that fact.
But, I won't leave until I confess something you might have not foreseen,
that,

you were my red, yellow and blue.
and everything in between.
261 · Jul 2014
Such a dilemma !
Tanya Chaudhary Jul 2014
Do you choose to remain sad,
cry, and water the flowers?
OR
Get better and have them die?

— The End —