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  • ayushsangwan 2d

    colour palette having all the colours
    but where is blue, do you intend to
    paint your sky dark, the ocean green as
    if covered with algae
    I don't want all the butterflies yellow,
    all the eyes brown, just a little blue
    and your landscape will be completed.
    your songs won't touch my heart, i have a colour preference for ink. the meaning your words hold won't
    remain with me, i have some inexplicable connections with blues.
    so add a little otherwise your
    completely happy painting will look like
    one which has been scribbled upon

    hsuya

  • ayushsangwan 9w

    morning is like the childhood, when
    new buds bloom and their aroma spills
    when sun caresses plump cheeks
    with his fingers and seems friendly

    the afternoon has the heat of adulthood
    when everyone aims for the mangoes
    on the highest branches and then
    sweats for them, but there are moments
    of joy as well under the shade of the tree
    in the laughter upon lips
    in the motion of the swing

    the evening has cold hands of old age
    because it is time for sun to leave
    it kisses on the cheeks
    leaves a wrinkle and whispers
    in the ear, we will meet next
    sunday

    the sun sits in his car and in
    moments vanishes in the eternity
    and it gets dark, it feels like the
    power has went off
    we take two steps to find the
    candle but fall in a pit

    hsuya

  • ayushsangwan 10w

    when she comes near me to taste my lips
    i tell her that i know why she's come
    simply to leave, to forget me in the end

    when she holds my hands and brings
    them to her eyes, i feel the wetness
    i tell her that i know they
    are oozing out of emptiness

    when my beard scratches her
    fluffy cheeks i whisper in her
    ear softly if she already knows
    the reason we would separate for

    when we cuddle, it feels as if
    we're trying to compress our souls into one
    i keep telling her that how sad
    it is that all this love is temporary,
    how unfortunate it is that there's
    nothing like a soul mate

    hsuya

  • ayushsangwan 10w

    people are looking for someone,
    i don't know who,
    they all carry love in their pockets,
    in their hands, it is stuffed in their cheeks but they fail to find the one to give it to and i see them wandering on streets
    everyone looks like a tin can
    getting kicked by one another
    and i see them dropping love
    here and there, and many a times
    when they reach their homes
    they find their pockets to be empty

    hsuya

  • ayushsangwan 11w

    my white veil looks like a bloomed rose
    when i spin for you like a top
    this galaxy is a plaything for you
    it rotates for you, and so do i
    i move like the water stirred in a glass
    a hand of mine remains towards
    the sky and the other looks at earth
    i am a dervish in your love

    hsuyA

  • ayushsangwan 12w

    i go to my favorite part of hill
    and sit among the daffodils
    as if i am one of them
    i do the things they do
    they move their heads towards the sun
    i move my head too
    i feel i am a daffodil
    they bend a little, i replicate
    and then smile like sunshine
    i too make a wide grin and imitate
    i look around to check
    if i do it in the right way
    gentle winds pass, daffodils dance
    i let my body flow too with the breeze
    butterflies on their petals sit
    so i too sit still that a butterfly
    will sit on my nose and
    i will be a daffodil

    hsuyA

  • ayushsangwan 12w

    it hurts when you don't win
    people ask how you feel
    but how can you truly tell?
    you are supposed to have a grin
    when you are actually burning in hell
    the shiny trophy in someone else's hands
    and yours like void remain empty
    and you just cannot stand it anymore
    when someone else is dancing in confetti

    hsuyA

  • ayushsangwan 13w

    after an argument

    devoid of beauty like a january tree
    i stand at the street's end
    for who i love has let go of my hand
    the snow silences his footsteps
    when he treads and i can't make out
    how far from me he desires to go away

    my home looks like a hindu widow
    burdened with white of winter
    i sit by his carcass and rub salve on
    the exit wounds made by my piercing words
    yet he doesn't move his lips
    i know death quietens people
    but he seems quieter

    hsuyA

  • ayushsangwan 13w

    you stay all alone in the room
    drinking poison of old memories
    i have never seen you crying, nor
    have i seen you smiling

    your paint book seems
    like solomon's grimoire
    my heart shivers seeing
    devil sketched on every page
    why do you like him, i ask
    and your answer is always
    a frown

    when did you start writing poems?
    i asked while flipping to the
    last page of your maths notebook
    and your answer was a sigh

    i see you, you don't know but i do
    i see you becoming a sunset
    and i don't know how to help
    for when i ask you of the reason
    you turn away your face

    when i ask you to smile
    you can't do it for more than
    some seconds. when i ask you to
    recite your poetry, you do it
    so joyfully that i can't seem
    to recognise you

    hsuyA

  • ayushsangwan 13w

    man lives his life
    to dig up his own grave,
    like working so hard in morning
    for a good sleep at night
    the day he is born
    he learns to pick up the shovel,
    as the ages pass
    when he begins to grow a little older
    he starts carrying his shovel
    to find his desired land,
    and the day he holds someone's hand
    he makes the first effort with the
    shovel in the land
    by the time his own children are matured
    he's done with more than half of his bed
    and as his teeth start to fall
    the six feet get ready
    man with his crooked back
    and broken legs falls down in the pit
    he takes a lifetime to dig up
    like working so hard in the morning
    for a good sleep at night

    hsuya