May I Write You Then?

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.

Familiarity like the back of my hand,

to foreignness like a distant country.

A long path.

A quick journey.

-Vanshika Singh

The absence of stuff to feel about,

I think,

is overrated.

Ask someone who feels so much,

that they have to write it on paper,

so it doesn't overflow.

The first funeral of mine

was back when I was still a kid

and lost a favourite human

not to death, but estrangement.

Since then I have been dying frequently

and being born again soon after

because with time, my body

my heart and my soul

have mastered the art

of shedding off the dust

and walking on like nothing happened.

I have attended like

my own thousands funerals

but still have the audacity

to fear dying.

I wish this was normal

as normal as dying

has been for me.

FIRST FUNERAL OF MINE- Vanshika Singh

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

"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!"