Poetry: Tiyasha Khanra

Tiyasha Khanra
My Last Word to You

Sorry to say, but I don't find-
Any home in you. Maybe or surely-
You don't have any home in you. 
Home- where I can rest,
Home- where I can surrender,
And clearly you lack that instinct in you.
Darling, You are embalmed with vagabondage,
And I don't like this state-
Of shifting one place to another. 
I will stick to my consistency,
I will stick to my refuge- 
That is my art and not you.
In this life you are not meant to me.
I hope we will make it work-
In another life, perhaps in a rebirth.

Somewhere In Between

After So many years when
I meet people, suddenly,
It all seems like they still
Remember me or never Forget.
They keep me in their regular 
Memory and their daily remembrance.
And it is only I, who have 
A very volatile memory.
It is only I, who erased everything 
That happened sometime in the past.
I don't know either I do it 
Intentionally or it just happens.
But it's okay not to remember 
Everything, I count as insignificant.
I'm happy without any past.

Bio: Tiyasha Khanra is a poet and author, lives in Kolkata, India. Previously published on International Times, Indian Periodical, Spill words, Story mirror, Ode to a Poetess and elsewhere.

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