Poetry: Ankita Pandey

Ankita Pandey
Introducing Ankita, who is a final year med school student with a very keen interest in English literature. She's committed to explore, learn, and work, contributing her skills, and advances in the field of English language.

Unlove the love

It bores a hole in my heart,
pains right through the middle of my chest, making it heavy while my eyes empty their tear glands right at the same time.

Isn't it weird how a completely different body, bodying a completely strange soul affects the soul in your body?

It takes your mind for a run,
your heart to beat,
your rate to skip,
your movements to slow down,
your lips to dry up
your eyes to mist.
All this are the effects of the Affectionate Foreign Soul, that infects the body, mind and soul;
making you feel better in worsened life size catastrophe,
makes you love the hurtful things,
makes you unlove yourself to love them.

Is that what love does to you?
Unlove the love in you for you?
Love the unloving love of you?
That's no affection, but an infection.
Needing detection.. hold it for, elimination!
Because what's important the most, is to love yourself utmost, love the in you for, illumination.

Meditate this, and unlearn the false love.
Toxicity, mortifies the love inside, and glorifies the pain that sides.

If that's love for you? It's too bad to be false, because that's a lie that says your are at fault, you're are flawed.
So unlove the love.

Terribly tiny tales.

From question mark to dots,
From ellipses to exclamation,
From more questionnaires to exclamations
To a full stop.
We've come a full circle and the loop shall continue ever and forever.

For the longest time of my life, I've felt,
The purity, the immaculating love I've dealt
Is only from you, by you and for you.

You soothe the eyes,
You caress the mind,
You tickle the heart,
You are there where no else can domicile.
Right inside in the orifice of my heart.

With all the more memories,
All the moments.
And thoughts.
All the time that we share.
All the efforts and care.

I can't pull back the time.
More like I won't, and I would never want to.
Cause I've tried and felt nothing but unknown.
It's best to keep it.
Untouched, Pure and Immaculating like you...

To my knowledge, I'll keep you as a memory in that orifice.
Dig back in when the aisle of embrassing you and us will knock the heart.

There will be no words, no talks, just a thought.
You and I were us. . .
From Us To You and I. . .
Indeed we came a full circle.
But this time with no questions, no dots but full stop.

I hope it starts again, like a crossover built.
Ellipses and blanks that are to be filled,

Which will be filled with love, prayers, and support not in written words or speech.
But carved inside you & me, telling their share of terribly tiny tales of yours and mine to one and each.

You and Me

Let's play a game.

A game of life where you be the poles;

I be the part,

Together we stand but poles apart.

Where you say no;

I have no control on my say.

Where you be calm and serene;

I be wild and crazy gene.

Where academics stands out for you;

I stand corrected by all virtues.

Where you be in the list of goods;

I rank high on credits for no-good.

Such are differences we share,

You name it,

Age, taste, what not?

Disparities! I say.

But guess what? I don't care!

There may be no common tie,

But I won't lie.

Though I've no answer for what made me feel fall and winter for you.

Though you don't have an answer to what was the spring and hots for me.

We share one thing if nothing.

A feeling?

A feeling felt so strong.

So what's WRONG?

Touché to all the times when I was told the gap is too long

Will you still walk along?

Touché to peps when conventional wisdom won because cliché works for all.

But I will still hold on.

Will you?

Will you still walk along?

Not the one for me

During the dark nights I find hope.

For some reason, I don't like the rains when I'm alone.

It's so good to be around people, you know?

It's so good when I'm with the world, and when it's not past midnight.

My eyes don't shed tears and I don't wake up with fear.

When I'm left amidst the silence with no one but myself, a sort of hollowness seeps in.

And though the ambience is filled with the soothing sound of the faint drizzle, it still seems so quiet, so calm. Like the nonchalant you.

Though I want you to save me from this dreadful quietness, I know you can't. Or maybe you can, but you won't.

I remind myself that,

You yourself put me into this.

You yourself caused the quietness to fill me.

It's not going to be like it used to be,

And you won't be the one for me...

About me, not you… 

It's not about me. It's about you.

The min you let the shackles bind me as you remain blind and keep me inside the close boundaries of bondages.
You tell me,
you command me,
and I imply that's it's not about me. It's about you.

Times went by, with you chaining me to something, something that soothes your eyes, moistens my.
It's not about me, it's about you.

Curbing me to live where I lie, day in day out. To secure the lie that it's a bad world outside, but what about inside?
It's not about me, it's about you.

Sometimes I come out, follow my heart when it's allowed. That's only when you're out and about.
Does it imply that it's a lie? I lie to you?
Or is it just me, trying to barge out why everytime you push me inside.
It's not about me, it's about you.

I wouldn't analogize this soul to that of fowl like,
You see, you've given me a lot more to be alive, unlike...
What doesn't come back is the time.
The time I made a promise to another birdie that's I'll come by,
The time when I was numbed lie, do you also feel the need to die? ... sometimes?
How hard it falls and feels to buy?
Buy that I'm no different and I want to go out too, feel the weather instead of asking a passerby, say hi? And try to pick the fallen dreams as I walk down the aisle.
Of breathing what isn't inside.
Of meeting and talking and playing and laughing and everything that other flocking chicks do as the day dies.
Is it too much to ask for? If I wish to see the sky?
How do you imply? That I'm not the kind to go out and fly?
May be you won't understand what it feels to lie.. lie to die.. die inside your own skin, inside when your head spins. With what you live with all your days in and only in.
But maybe it's not you, it's me.
Me for what I'm… but I don't know why!
You, my dear are fine.
It's not you. It's me. I cry.


  1. You are definitely going places and for now you are at the right place and so are your poems. Loved them all. Keep them coming.

    The 2nd para of "unlove the love" was just wonderful.

  2. Extremely disappointed to see that none of these were written for me (or maybe that's a good thing?)

    p.s. Author is hella cute

  3. These are the best strands of words i have ever read... I have always loved them and will always.....love you


We welcome your comments related to the article and the topic being discussed. We expect the comments to be courteous, and respectful of the author and other commenters. Setu reserves the right to moderate, remove or reject comments that contain foul language, insult, hatred, personal information or indicate bad intention. The views expressed in comments reflect those of the commenter, not the official views of the Setu editorial board. प्रकाशित रचना से सम्बंधित शालीन सम्वाद का स्वागत है।