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3 poems by Abhyuday Gupta

Art by John Singer Sargent

Budget Tonight I decided not to write  a poem. Instead, I would do  my budget. So here I am bills scattered across the floor like forgotten letters and I fail  to remember which is which  and how much the last  year has cost me to keep my head out of my head and just  about how long can I go  with this before I cannot. 

I met a man I shouldn't have He had palms in such contrast  with yours, I wanted to know what it is like to not touch you. I promised you I would stop  the first time I had a man over. I met a man who is not you and I told him all the things  about you. He laughed when  I said I burnt my tongue on your fingertips so I took him in my mouth and forgot his name. Maybe the tongue is a landmine or an old forest, gathering snow after being burnt to ground. Infatuation Every time I weigh a word it says too little or too much never enough to portray you as a jigsaw puzzle. I try to sketch you with poetry about the way I cling to your words to describe your ever changing faces. I don’t know how to sieve love from indurate loneliness of unnerving crowds. I don’t know how to differentiate you from the chaos of my hallucinations But when I try to look through you, you knock the sense out of me.

Abhyuday is a poet living in Delhi and even though they wish otherwise, loss, love, and queerness remain the primary concerns in their poetry. Their writings have been featured in Scoopwhoop, NDTV, Muse India, and more recently in 'The World That Belongs To Us - An Anthology of queer poetry from south asia'. They are currently working as a communication and strategy specialist in the field of CSR and Diversity and Inclusion. Find his work on Instagram.


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