“Behind Your Smile”


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Written by Krishnanunni Kichu.
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Have you seen my scars?
The ones you left behind
When you let me move on?

Have you seen my scars
Glow and burn with remorse
When you smiled at me
Last time we crossed our paths?

Have you seen my scars
How deep they still linger
And not letting themselves heal?

Have you seen my scars
All over you?
Because I did-
(Behind your smile)

–Kichu

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“Fiddlesticks And Memories”


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fiddlesticks and memories;
little baby, me, and stories.
i tell her fairy tales.
she listens, very well–
about princes and princesses;
kingdoms, toads, and dresses.

fiddlesticks and memories;
little baby, me, and music.
we listen to children’s happy songs–
the rhyming beat and tune.
she likes to sing;
her mic, the spoon.

fiddlesticks and memories;
little baby, me, and toys.
she plays with dolls and a playhouse–
tea parties and slumber sessions.
i’m forced to join her
and her little ploys.

fiddlesticks and memories;
my little baby has grown up, you see.
the tiny bundle of endless joy;
already starting to fight with boys.

my little baby is starting
to be a tiny version of me.

–Diwa

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“Thoughts”


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there she is–
lost in her thoughts, again.
he wants to tease her–rattle her;
even if that makes her yell at him.
he’ll do anything;
just so she stops going back,
to her memories of another man.
but, there he is–lost in her, again.
he wants to hit himself;
kick himself–even when it’ll hurt.
he’ll do anything;
just so he stops drowning in her,
over and over again.
for, seeing her delve in thoughts
of someone else,
hurts so much more
than anything else, ever can.

–Diwa

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“Riding, Road Trips, Bikes, And Him”


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i ride through the village streets at night,
to clear my mind of ponders.
it helps to see the natural setting
that can interest me, to forget.

for i cannot find anything
to replace the repetitive thinking,
that has the same old you, as its king.
am i not through with you, yet?

cease the non-stop singing
that you keep doing inside my head;
or, the allusion to bikes and tires,
and the familiar whirring of an engine.

yet, i do the same things you do.
we have the same hobbies and habits.
the simple you and the simple me,
riding highways and liking trees.

sounds familiar, right?
same face, as well, sometimes;
and the ocean, the sandy beach.
the countryside, the roadtrips.

now, i go back inside the house
and head straight back, to my room.
i didn’t really solve anything.
i’m simply back to you, again.

i went out to forget you.
i came back with more of you.
will this ever stop then? no?
be gone, i say. now, i sound like a noob.

–Diwa

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