"Usse kaafi shikayat karni hai, ussi ki"
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Two zero when tied together becomes infinity, so is you and me.
-Yash
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15th April 2024
I used to come home from work sweating and hungry to sit in bed and smoke for hours. I wouldn't eat because I still believed someone would love my mouldering body more that way. More than anything I was hungry for you. You used to get upset that I'd talk so desperately about him but I needed something to detract from you. I needed some conduit for the ache I felt for you. I sat in wait for every response and I squeezed every possible meaning from even the smallest of words. Nothing you'd say was ever enough and all the nights I was crushed under it all I'd hope you'd wake up and come save me. In retrospect, I thought of you more as some great omniscient being or angel who'd come to plaster my shaking pieces back together than as a living creature. Sweet angel, you were broken too and all I could think of was how you would save me. I take fragile things and crush them in my weak palms until they shatter and lacerate me in the process. I used you to maim myself over and over again until my hands were too mangled to hold or pick you up anymore.
You used to shake me awake from nightmares of you dying. I watched your sweet soft body crack and break and pieces of me would fall away with it. Do you remember when we'd lay awake before bed and listen to the radio? Occasionally, moments with you overwhelmed me so strongly with contentment that I felt myself leave my corporeal form and sit somewhere soft and quiet in the metaphysical with you.
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do you ever see a person and you are overcome with incredible fondness? and you just think "oh." but not in a romantic or sexual way you are just filled with warmth and it makes you happy, it just does. and you think "i'm so happy you exist. i'm happy you are somewhere out there in the world, doing your thing". it's love but also not entirely
like people are lovely and i feel it in my entire chest like a burning candle that smells like roses and a sunny day
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one of the greatest tragedies in life is that you will always be loved more than you will ever know. someone in class finds your presence inviting and warm, even if you’ve only ever exchanged a few words with them—maybe none at all. someone on the street loves your smile and it gets them down the next few streets. someone you used to be friends with still wishes to fondly call your name. someone you used to be friends with five years ago would give anything to be in the same room as you today. someone who regularly comes into work is disappointed when you aren’t there to brighten their day. someone missed you today. someone noticed you were gone. someone loves you when you’re there; someone loves you when you’re nowhere to be found at all. you think you have always disappeared when you’re no longer in the picture, but you’ve never left the frame.
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when kafka said ‘you wouldn’t believe the kind of person I could become if you wanted it’ and when brontë said ‘if you ever looked at me with what I know is in you, I would be your slave’ and when Sartre said ‘if I’ve got to suffer it may as well be at your hands’
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favourite thing in the world is when the pages of a book go all soft and yellowy and the edges are slightly fuzzy and rounded. these books couldn’t give you a papercut if you tried they’ve been loved too much. they love you too much
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My heart, once full of love got hollowed in waiting for you, screaming more louder and louder, still the scream was never loud enough to reach your heart, but when it did, my heart turned stone.
-Yash
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tonight we die as a family, mohammed el-kurd
[english on the left as published in the poetry review & translated into urdu on the right by @/smuntahaali on instagram]
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