Poetry: Untitled Poem

Sometimes I look in the

mirror. And I see more

pain than I should, I breed

more, pore

by pore – filling itself under

the layers and layers

of biology. Pain

vivid, the mirror broken

contains black marks

from people

who occupied it before.

Sometimes I look in the

mirror and I see

more. Lines, circles

of memories – the film

that could have been made.

The people who rather

didn’t stay. Reflection

into the other – subtle, soft

and dead.

Sometimes I look in the

mirror and I see –

turning, turned, backgroud

less flat – lights dimmed

for better understanding.

But character remains

the same.

Sometimes I look.

Crash, in the grey

shade that

fixates – shades greater than before

than without a mirror – than

without being looked.

Sometimes I

fail to travel into

the right color,

person by person

loving by living,

question, doubt,

passing of language.

Did you know what they

they call when you

begin and you

end with eaten

words, with words

that remain[ed]

missing. With people

that passed

unrealized, unrecognized –




by Karan Kaul

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