Living



The past may attempt
To define the future;
Yet, passive permission
Merely makes it worse–
And staying in the game
Signifies being heard,
Even when it demands
That you scream.

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“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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“Rain”


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the rain pours harder–
washing away,
all that blasted heat;
like, it erases
the longing, i feel,
for our past, our love,
and us.

rain, wash away
every memory of him,
in me.

–Diwa

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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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“Thoughts Of You”


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i let my crazy thoughts go astray.
to find the words laid a-floating
in the balmy air of the evening.

as i let my mind fly away,
i notice the familiar northerly way.
it goes to him, whichever way.

as i hold my pen to write,
i know who comes to light.
only him again in sight.

whatever i do to banish him,
i know i’ll never really win.
all pretensions fade within.

although i write of many themes,
most of them refer to him.
it shall always be about him.

–Diwa

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“The Girl Cried For You”


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you hate her for not crying.
you mock her because you think
that ever since you left her,
she never broke down in fear.

she let you go without a tear;
her eyes were all so clear.
she wished you no ill;
you thought her smiles were real.

you went away with no guilt;
a man who wanted to complete
all the steps that would make him
the best–the highest in the team.

then, you come back and find
the girl you left behind.
she’s different and stronger;
but couldn’t stay much longer.

she tells you that she has to go.
she mentions priorities, you do not know.
this makes you mad and thinks she’s bad.
you call her names that make her sad.

what you failed, to do, was think deeply, too.
you could have known the truth–
that the day you left for a better future,
she did not eat or sleep–the girl cried for you.

–Diwa

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