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“Better Understanding” – Nayana Nair

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Her fingers brushed past my skin,
in a hurry to avoid what I am.
As if she knew what to avoid, what not to remind,
what must not be spoken – for the love to remain.

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Only after I learnt to let my footsteps
be taken by the waves,
only after taking myself out
of every unsolved equation-
I knew enough of world to know
the scent of tears on her face,
even when her happiness was believable enough.

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Once her fingers had brushed past my skin
in a hurry to avoid being found
as if she knew all places to hide, what not to show,
what not to be – for love to remain.

“Keys” – Nayana Nair

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The keys beneath my finger
are tired of creating words and sounds,
that live too less and die too soon,
because they couldn’t breathe
in the air devoid of you.
Bigger waves of noises
drag them, drown them
and lose them to the place
where they lived before they were born.
They wait in the crowd of wannabe songs
only to become calluses of forsaken hands.

“New Scarf” – Nayana Nair

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What really happens
when I untangle my lies
from my heart?
Could my heart bear the harshness
of cold glance?
Could my fingers really stop
knitting a new scarf of falsity?
There are better questions out there
that cannot touch or hurt me.
There are stories
where God has planted my struggles
in life of others-
for me to witness,
for me to relive,
for me to cry,
for me to heal
for me to forgive myself.

“Not There” – Nayana Nair

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Stay right beside me.
Stay till I fall asleep.
Once my eyes have given up,
on seeing the world for what it is
and failing each time.
When my hold on your fingers
loosens breath by breath.
When I finally fall asleep.
Let me dream of a love for us
that hurts little less.
Live the life that I dream of.
Even if I am not there.

“Flower” – Nayana Nair

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I pluck one leaf at a time
from this flower, this script
my life is.
I throw them from bridges
on cold evenings.
I bury them in the soil
that soils their print with time.
I burn them to ashes,
so they won’t smell the same.
I hang them on trees
that will never bear fruits.
To leave this story of mine
everywhere and nowhere.
So that you may find it.
So that you may not find it.
But
I wear the last page, last leaf
with only one word, you name, written,
on my finger
as substitute for you hands
that I can no longer hold.

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