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  • ayushsangwan 12m

    i can imagine your heart as a cauldron
    blackened with soot, set upon a stack of aflamed woods and a slimy, thick,
    red-ish grime boiling in it
    hundred little bubbles spurting out
    it looks like lava, at least that's what
    the burning sensation tells me
    if someone were to put their fingers inside, they may only get their palm back

    i don't know, or maybe i do
    what you've been stirring inside since childhood. lonliness, nippy, chilly, noses would freeze and crack apart if they
    were to smell it, the coldness.
    you're a snowflake, smelling of hurt
    and hatred of how things happened,
    seeping out something that only
    erodes my skin

    your heart is big, you're so joyful and nice
    my friends tell me, i can imagine your heart as a big cauldron, nauseating steams rising up in heavy wisps ,flames underneath trying hard to show off to sun, i thought there was
    still a spot, unburnt.
    i thought i could
    discover it, caress it, bring to it the attention
    it always deserved. i thought i could mould
    the rock. i put my whole self inside the cauldron but i did not get anything back

    hsuya

  • ayushsangwan 2w

    i have got this disease
    that grows with time
    a year or two or a few weeks
    you would feel this lightness
    taking over your body
    beginning from the centre of your chest
    to the end of fingers
    upto the head and down to toes
    a disease that dwells in heart
    you may call it a virus, deadly, incurable
    humankind succumbs to its greatness
    a virus that nibbles on heart
    and leaves only emptiness
    the way vultures tear apart a cadaver
    and leave only bare bones
    such a terrible disease
    that gives a very warm feeling
    but in its true nature is very cold

    - hsuya, incurable

  • ayushsangwan 9w

    rhythms that move within
    your ears, turn on the tapping of feet
    darkness keeps you enclosed
    in the four walls of your mind
    yet music finds a way to escape in
    and you dance off the suffering
    in the words of poetry, in the colours of
    art and you find your ways to live
    no matter how breathless the air is

    hsuya

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  • ayushsangwan 31w

    poetry is the art of the poor
    the rich rarely have a flair for it
    the ones who are stricken with
    a dark life, who rummage their
    pockets but don't find a single
    friend, who are neck deep
    in lonliness even while smiling
    this art belongs to them
    it is their only inheritance
    it feeds their starving souls when
    the world denies to help
    and in december when the
    winter gets so ruthless and slits
    through their bare wrists
    poetry covers up people like
    a mother hiding a child in her shawl
    when everyone looks down on their existence,
    poetry hugs the untouchables

    hsuya

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  • ayushsangwan 33w

    You're knee deep in regret tonight
    paddling in its dark waters
    towards a vague shore, your shirt is
    drenched with agony sticking to
    your body like grey paint to a wall,
    there's a dark cloud above your head
    embellishing dews on your eyelashes,
    drops fall down your eyes when you blink
    and I wonder if you're just wet or crying.

    You're waist deep in regret tonight and
    the water is cold, the river bed is made of
    jagged rocks of fears slitting your soles,
    you move slow and do not pause,
    the river eats you like a group of piranhas biting through the meat to the bones, the blood makes everything around you pitch black
    that the night above looks like a day.

    You're shoulder deep in regret tonight
    the river grabs your feet, tries to pull you inside, you flap your hands like a pigeon tussling between a cat's claws, the weight of emptiness crushing your body, you struggle to escape the grip looking at the shore which always appears a metre farther.

    You're neck deep in regret tonight, the water
    floods inside your mouth the way a snake
    slithers into a hole. You look at the shore
    which is farther than before. You have been walking backwards. You realise. Towards the abyss. You try to run. You kick the water. Try to push it away. As if begging it to leave you alone. You look like the hummingbird that flutters so fast and yet remains at the same place.

    You have drowned in regret tonight,
    the river becomes a black hole, it siphons
    every whit of light and darkness out of you.
    As it finally untwines the knot of your being,
    peace begins to cease the trembling
    from head to toe.

    ayush sangwan, standing life deep in regret

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  • ayushsangwan 42w

    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
    the one which has been scribbled upon

    hsuya

  • ayushsangwan 50w

    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 51w

    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 52w

    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 52w

    my white veil looks like a bloomed rose
    when i spin for you like a top
    this galaxy is a plaything for you
    it swirls 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