Familiarity Like The Back Of My Hand,

Familiarity like the back of my hand,

to foreignness like a distant country.

A long path.

A quick journey.

-Vanshika Singh

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

The disaster you wear as a ballgown,

has brought death down upon me.

The scar from the war you caused,

has been my most favourite injury.

The invisible swords you carry,

had cut me sharp into misery.

You have been my greatest downfall,

the mortal beings instantly agree.

Let's plan a meeting soon again,

at the deep plain of the sea.

So if we cause another catastrophe,

the non-literature world has nothing to worry.

Vanshika Singh

I've felt like the weight of this world

was lifted off my shoulders.

When I uttered those massless words

at that moment when I was bolder.

You ask me why I had it inside

why didn't I speak up before?

Am I being vocal from now on

and decide to hide no more?

It feels nice being unmute

but once in a while, I think.

The weight of the world has forced me

to draw it into words by my ink.

UNMUTE- Vanshika Singh

I met an old friend of mine days ago. And it was a strange encounter that captured my mind for a while. She was my friend when I was 13 years old, and we had a strange parting where she claimed I wasn't interesting enough to be friends with. However childish, it did take a piece of my mind and I was always wondering what is 'interesting' and why am I not it.

Back to the meeting, I was caught off guard when she smiled at me. I didn't know what to do. Hold onto the grudge I held for years, or finally let it go. 'You are no more a thirteen years old! Get over it already.', I chided myself. And so uncomfortably, I smiled back at her.

To my wonder, she took it as a cue to walk upto me and ask how I was doing. I am good- I told her, a part of me already softening over her existence. Suddenly she said she loves my poems and reads them really often. Like an instinct, the sarcastic words left my mouth, "Finally find me interesting enough?"

I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth. The discomfort on her face nearly made me apologize. But my rational self adviced me to laugh it out and say I was joking(which I was not). I did that.

As we parted, she asked for my contact number, and even though a part of me was reluctant, I shared it.

Now when I think of it, I smile at the irony that how her discomfort had me worried. While all my discomfort for years probably meant nothing at that moment. The friend I was to her, never died. I was glad of the closure I got. I realised I wasn't angry anymore. I was interesting then too, she only did not see me the way i deserved to be seen.

I had never felt happier. And I feel that is all we need in life. To stop turning over and reading the same pages again. When the chapters are done, the book should be closed.

Goodbyes have often crushed me hard,

and I've seen for my myself, a dead end,

I've felt like I have a lost a piece of me,

and that piece probably had the all, I could ever be.

To be honest, it took me a night's sleep,

to feel a little light, and pick my will to fight,

I've asked myself, what I was so sad about,

I've felt like a heartless crappy human, moving on so quick.

Goodbyes have always been hard for me,

but I have assembled all pieces of me,

And searched for the bits, I'll hold on to,

to keep safe with me, all they left behind.

GOODBYES- Vanshika Singh