Carpenter, carpenter
With hammer and nails
Fix all your problems
'Till something else fails
When something does
You're not to blame
It's the end of your youth
The end of this game
You've built what you needed
And fixed what you could
But this adult life
Isn't made of wood.

One day you've come
Then you are gone

Once you say you love me
But Then you said to somebody else

Once you promise you never leave
Then I'm not trust it anymore

I still dream about you almost every night.
Happy dreams, and I wake up missing you.
When those turn into nightmares,
when I wake up happy that it was only a dream,
that's when I know I'm over you.

i remind you of the beauty that never turns
it sits and drifts from place to place
but its gone before too long
hundreds of sparrows nest
inside the shadows you kept secret
your eyes were the wells i dove naked into
through pools of empty mystery
undulating divers
swam for a moment
upon the backs of your hand
long slender fingers
lifted the roots of whimsical stranglers
i choose support over form
your strong tone of voice called me from the moon
hold me to your question and press me in your room
undercover berry-keepers hidden in a sack
our threadbare beauty is already where its at
limitless trading so we set up a deal
make all our engagements equal
and we will feel how lucky we are
to know the only one that's real
distant and sweet like cotton candy
i once held her in my pipe
but the barrel split
before i could inhale her scent
and become immortal as the rags
long before time was kept
she vanished from our charms
to dwell inside a noosphere
in the shell of a street urchin
or underneath a rock
we hide our clothes without passion
for our brother's many lovers
to expose their unique throes
i ultimately agree with your idea
the notion of our brokenness
is coming nearer and nearer
i cheer your flame
i steer my ship upon your spray
in the wake of beatitude
the dalliance of a lover scorned
your thorns and your thimbles
all are wild and necessary
in the meantime i run and dance
upon the headless waters
jolts of electricity in feverish spurts
hit the earth and spray our shirts with blood
splattered like honey comb
a smorgasbord of tragedy and unclean similarities
your self-same regulars
threatening daily to outdo you

Sweet nectar trickles down my chin,
The knife slips in sticky hands,
A nibble here, a lick there,
Sparks memory,
Of golden deliciousness of summers past,
scoldings from Mum for unrepentant gluttony,
Tangy sour smells of unripe fruit,
Swings swaying under the Mango tree
And a childhood happy as can be
~ Kriti Mishra