
Devyani is a 23-year-old, who loves Delhi, Ghalib and coffee alike. She writes what she feels and on her good and extremely bad days feels what she writes too. She runs a blog [www.devyanisrivastava96.blogspot.com] and an insta micro poetry page [www.instagram.com/green_hugs]. Her favourite writers are Rumi and Rabindranath Tagore.
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I have to tell you something!
I have to tell you something,
But how do I?
Do I wear a nice dress,
To seek all your attention?
Do I pour in some wine
In the goblet you bought
Last month?
What do I do?No,
My words aren’t enough,
They have never been,
With all the courage,
I muster and all the air I breathe
To be able to utter
What I must,
You, just hear,
Never listen.In all these years,
Months, days and hours,
How have my words not convinced,
Your soul to listen to my voice
Which part of me will resonate,
With you?
Is there a part? Can you pick?
Till when will the shards of my dreams
Stitch your commands?
Till when will my wounds bleed?
Will my voice ever reach?
If I had a fork in my hand..
If I had a fork in my hand
At this time, I’d pierce it
Right into my heart,
To see what’s it made of
Is it steel? Or glass?
Or is it just stale blood
That would ooze out of it.The warmth in my blood
Is not there anymore
Been a while I felt
That heartbeat
The one which dances
To the tunes of dreams
And not the one which
Is made to fear wretched screams.Had you asked me a while ago
About how I felt, I’d say explosive
The one who’s head could explode
But today if you care to ask
I’d just say I’m too tired to even
Acknowledge the numbness.The sleep and the smiles are not mine
I didn’t know when sadness and sorrow
Abandoned me in the middle of nowhere
This breathlessness would kiss me
And leave, as I crave for fresh air.I know, I told you I’m a warrior
I am sorry, I am not, I failed
Can I please get back to
Being a loser self and a failed warrior?
Please.
You carry my photo in your wallet!
You carry my photo in your wallet,
The brown color leather wallet
That I gave you on your birthday,
The birthday which we celebrated,
Remember?We had got three cakes
Because you and I couldn’t choose one
Red Velvet, Rainbow, and chocolate,
All big cakes were bought,
You cut them all,
I ate almost all,
That birthday,
When I gave you the wallet
Which I wanted for you.You hate brown leather,
I love it like none other,
In that wallet,
We had put our picture,
The picture we took
In Ireland,
Your favorite country.Years later, today
When I touched your wallet
It was as soft,
Our picture was not their
You had put mine,
It was as if you and I
Weren’t together,
But you still kept a
part of me,
Maybe I’m not your past,
Probably, we exist
In our present as good people
But that is all.We are just people,
Hopefully good.