I Think I Have A Side

I think I have a side

I strive hard to hide

like I have often

seen the moon do.

Not because we are ugly

toxic or unlikeable

But because it is personal

out worldly type.

I'd rather not reveal it

and instead conceal

Not everyone has to be aware

Of how I often feel.

The world doesn't deserve that side,

to see and to explore

It's only for my inquisitive self

to love and to adore.

THE SIDE I HIDE- Vanshika Singh

When the wreckage has been done

and the battle is lost and won

When life's no more a moral horror

Heart been though some brutal slaughter

When day no more brings light to me

And the night is too scary to go through

If eyes have dried up of water to shed

Outstretched, and turning on the restless bed

And even if my soul feels an inner lack

Will you still always have my back?

-DON'T WORRY, Siddhartha Mishra

May I write you then?

on this miserable paper,

and give all of me into my first attempt,

to make you eternal?

They say

this is what poets do.

Give life to the dead.

Not in a way that they start breathing again,

But in a way that the world starts breathing them.

"Why so many poem?"

"Each one tells a story."

"Why not tell the stories instead?"

"You won't understand."

"I don't understand the poems either!!"

*chuckles*"That's not for you to understand!"

A few years back, one of my father's friend was diagnosed with cancer. The news had all shattered. His friend eventually succumbed to the disease. When all his friends including my father went to attend his last rites, his mother burst into tears because she had never seen the friends group without her son. She did not look at them as different people, but a single unit, which looked distorted due to her son's absense. Years have passed, but my father and his other friends still calls up, every month, like a ritual, his dead friend's mother to ask if she is fine, or if she needs something. The family performed his last rituals, but the friends are performing his life's rituals. I have not seen a purer friendship.

This instance makes me feel friendship is beyond a person, beyond physical attendance. Somewhere in the roads of an eternal relationship, where loyalty rests till the last breath is taken. To aspire in friendship, to be together at the death bed. People eventually go, with or without choice, but the friendship always stays. And if it doesn't, it was not worth calling friendship. I want to be this kind of friend, and have this kind of them.

-2nd February, 2022

One wild night, she fled from my sight,

just some minutes after we had our fight.

My heart sped up, like it always did,

I searched every corner, she possibly hid.

But every search came to an end so dead,

I regretted every syllable I said.

I wondered why she'd fight me that way,

I put my heart, like hundred times on display.

She hated how I always gazed at the stars,

and talked about Saturn, Pluto and Mars.

For her my interests were awfully vague,

what I could see through, she found opaque.

We were those companions, poles apart,

but despite all odds, she had my heart.

Who is going to give her, this information,

that I was carving a way in the constellation.

So I could find her after death, when she 'n I,

as stars gets located, far up in the sky.

Well now I see, she is no cosmic poetry,

When dead, she'd probably be buried under a tree.

COSMIC POETRY, Vanshika Singh