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He walked down the hall hoping it was wrong. It was all a lie. Curtains being torn in holes, but the plates were fresh, the smell of the supper still trapped in the house as he walked up the stairs. Still afraid, he opens the first door. He stood their like a statue and his…

Love me.

Love me, And I’ll let you win at scrabble. Put down the book I’m reading, Just to smile at you. * Pretend to be asleep, Just to let you watch me a little more. Go to the beach during sun set, And watch you instead. * Love me, And I’ll write poems for you Letting…

A love song

[Image from http://www.billboard.com%5D I want to write a love song that talks about you and me but words aren’t enough anymore to mourn for a love that is dying. Maybe they can’t find their place among so many dead bodies or perhaps when everything ends there’s nothing left. Maybe, perhaps… That’s enough so many useless…

I don’t believe is there

Everything must come to an end, and I miss him I probably always will, but things are better now. Platón used to believe that tyranny was a way of falling for your pleasures, and that it only manifested when drunk, in love or insane, when all you can do is want more. And I strongly…

Sacrifice

What is there in her that she makes you forget all the pain? What makes her so special? What does she do that helps you grow? Why does her name bring you all the happiness? Are you sure she’s your best friend? Are you sure you’re not in love with her? He stood there silently. He…

Hourglass

You’re So far from me that the distance between us feels as a deadly dagger that cuts off me my jugular and flays my soul slowly and painfully. But time is my ally to alleviate this pain. Although, sometimes, the damn clock is unable to show the hours and its obsolete, but intricate precision mechanism…

Truth//

His eyes always told me a different story than what his lips narrated//   By Anjana Kameswari Read more texts by this author

Happy Gandhi Jayanti..

  What is 2nd October? “Mahatma Gandhi Birthday” Dear Bapu, Hello, My name is Chirayu. You haven’t heard my name, but I do, not only me but every Indian does. So today I’m writing to you this letter for two purposes: first to wish you in my way and second to gift you something special…

Cupid is dead

How many times have I heard that story? How many times have you asked me to forgive? There have been so many times that I don’t believe you and wonder how the hell could I ever do it. But the answer is clear enough and I won’t stumble over the same stone twice: once again…

Poetry

The solitude of poetry, the solitude of the years. The poetry of solitude, the years of solitude. The weight of the years like a self-denial of threads in crucifixion. The sea without owner. The vacuum of poetry, the vacuum of life. The poetry of vacuum, the life of vacuum. The weight of your dead like…

I know ..

find the light
in all that darkness
in all that pain