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An Empty Chair

“An Empty Chair” By  Pratiksha Misra From morning cereal, To an evening affair, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From an angry state, To a cry for an extra bread to spare, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From the fresh water fish, To the piping hot biryani, Served in a silver dish, From crying babies, To toddler care, From trying outs, To wedding outfits, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. From laughter roar, To midnight chuckles, From quieter score, To quilted giggles, From a spicy gravy, To sour taffy, From bitter to sweet, There was always dessert in the fridge, And a smiling nudge at the topmost layer, What never was around, Was an empty chair.. Now since you are gone, There is no winner at the dinner, No one asks what you would Like to eat, No one sits and repeats, How a dish tastes, It all ended too soon, How is that fair? That now instead of you, What we have is an empty chair.. *On this occassion of Thanksgiving, what my family craves for is ...

Hiding Inside You

Hiding inside you..
For no one out there..
to reach me.
But you.
I Close my eyes..
As you held tight..
Which probably will loosen out tonight.
Tears are impolite..
Making reality out of sight..
What happens now cannot be undone..
So have to end the fight.
A faint murmur unheard..
Avoiding absurd..
As talking finds awkward.
By glance of misery..
Gulping down the steer..
Intuitions accompanying fear.
Innocently smiles collide..
These will stick wide.
Even after a deserted ride.
I don’t open my eyes..
Just slip into my bunk and hide.
This night should subside.

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