[Note from Frolic: We’re so excited to welcome poet Shrutee Choudhary back to the site. She’s sharing more of her breathtaking modern love poems with us!]
1. your face was quiet
not an ornament
of a smile
no basking in the glow
of winding fairy lights
you’d known pain
like I had known it
so only I could recognise
the griefs, the nightmares
of a hushed voice
we wilted away slowly
in poetry and proses
they bled by thorns
but you and I
we were killed
2. it’s marvellous how
one finds their way to the one
they belong with
sometimes, it’s a journey across
sometimes, even the stars
have to align a certain way
and sometimes, you’re sitting there
right across from them
the Universe watching in anticipation
two people so perfect for each other
be this close and never meet.
3. I like to read about everything. Sometimes I just sit with my browser open and throw strange questions into the vast space of the Internet, and get answers. It’s comforting to know things.
My parents often tell me stories of how I’d always look at things with a sense of wonderment and how my favourite thing to ever ask was, “why?” They’d get annoyed sometimes, they’d really feel proud the other times. So they’d get me encyclopaedias to find my answers in. I loved answers.
I once read that humans shed the upper layer of their skin every two weeks. That’s how scars fade and wounds heal. So your kiss has already been erased from my lips and my body has forgotten your touch. That’s relieving.
But then I also read that some cells don’t renew at all. That’s how our skin wrinkles and ages. What if you left an impression on those very spots, and all that you ever made me feel will only grow with me? Because I still remember. More vividly as days pass by. That’s terrifying.
Memories blur with time. The mind weakens with age. But somehow, it always finds a way to remember what our skin may forget. That’s strange.
I wish I was a brand new person, one that had never met you. But you see, that’s not possible. Some part of you has mingled with some part of me in a way that it will never detach. Why? I still don’t know the answer to this one. Sometimes, that bothers me but sometimes that’s comforting too, you know. Not knowing.
About the Author:
When I’m not busy being a goofball, I like to complicate my life for a living, so I can try and uncomplicate it with words.
I like to travel and make pictures. I’m also an actor, so I’m really all about the stories.
In poetic terms,
I’m the wormhole between reality and fiction
I’m the rhyme and the contradiction.
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