She

To every woman who has spoken up, and to the ones who are quiet.

She is beautiful inside out,

no one had a speck of doubt.

But her hair,

a healthy brown,

is ripped apart from her crown.

Her eyes,

a greenish hue,

have bruises around them blue.

Her cheeks

with gorgeous dimples,

are now sunk in by impulse.

Her lips,

full and pink,

are forced to move in sync.

Her jaw,

sharp and seemingly tough,

is slapped across pretty rough.

And her neck,

long and thin,

is choked as the lights go dim.

Yes, she is beautiful inside out,

as long as she nods her head throughout.

~Khyati

Conversations

I thought I should do some story-telling, a fancy one.

Conversations with you start even before my mornings begin,

and don't end even in my late night dreamy grins.

I never remember what all we talk about,

but our debates never make me feel like opting out.

I never recall the memes we discuss,

or the myths that we may have bust.

I just know that I now have things to associate with you,

things that I adore, things that battle my blues.

That is, of course, when you're not around,

how can I leave your heroism unannounced?

You are and will always remain my knight in shining armour,

a little late, a little out of practice, but nevertheless a charmer.

It were your texts laced with quirks,

that completed my days along with that smirk.

If not for your belief and support,

I never would've completed the missions I were to abort.

It was now that you begun to feel like home,

I felt like I was knocking on my own goddamn door.

But, as the dates in my journal progressed,

our dates were put to tests.

It was terrible at first, and horrific later,

as we threw at each other taunts that created massive craters.

I never remember what all we fought about,

just that I constantly wanted to opt out.

Although, I knew that I would cherish forever,

the broken pieces of me that you stuck so fondly together.

I knew that I would cherish you with all my heart,

just as lovingly as I did at the start.

So, until I stop murmuring 'iloveyou's under my breath,

and until I stop writing 'runaway's on my desks,

you will remain my knight in shining armour,

riding away to a world much calmer.

So now, when I'm broken and blue,

I look for even a shadow of you.

Knowing fully well that you're not around,

with the things that you marked scattered on the ground.

I now learn to unassociate,

and unlearn all that you did create.

It'll be a journey of prime,

maybe short, or maybe a lifetime.

These days,

conversations with you start even before my mornings begin,

but now have an end, similar to the scars on my skin.

~Khyati

Music: Aryan Sinha

Dear Swing

Dear swing, thank you for freezing my butt,

and letting me understand the feeling of my gut.

I am grateful for your existence,

and the way you welcome me from the distance.

Your metal-chain handles hold onto my hands,

and take me to far-off lands.

Everything's better there,

with a sense of freedom in the air.

I love the way you make me believe,

how this world's just like I perceived.

As if everything's simple,

and there aren't any tears hidden behind those dimples.

As if everyone's honest,

and there are no cuckoos in search of your nest.

As if there's equality,

and the various gaps aren't a casualty.

I love how you take me to new heights,

not even once did you cite

the rule book of being 'ladylike'.

Hell, you even let me ride the bike

all the way to my dreams,

where I found my long-lost beam.

Dear swing, I am grateful for your existence,

without you surviving would've been such a nuisance!

~Khyati