Tuesday 15 October 2013


I read you over and over
As if reading poetry,
Not the kind I don’t get
But the kind that gets me.

And I go over it carefully,
Amazed, to find out what exactly it was
And why so important to me.

Discovering, or not discovering, the answer,
I go on, read further
Hoping I'll find more such,
Wanting to die trying.

To understand the poet
Who understood me perfectly,
To listen with rapt attention
To one who spoke only to me.

First published in the Lakeview International Journal of Literature and Arts, 6 September 2013.


probe said...

it's unfair to write so well and so little.

ankita said...

With such encouragement, more would certainly happen.

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