the fine art of lying

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Close your eyes and imagine
Somewhere in Vancouver
The Street lights flickering awake
Outside a window and ⁣
a Sakura blossom falling ⁣
before it's time ⁣
on the streets of Tokyo ⁣
Can you see it? ⁣
Clocks are breaking all over India
And time is lying on the floor, ⁣
split open like a dissected flower
Two teenagers holding their scalpels ⁣
In the wrong hand so they could ⁣
Hold each other in the right ⁣
Hiding a rainbow under their table
While the professor talks about ⁣
how love is nothing but a serotonin high
I wonder what he thinks about ⁣
when he lays down alone at night
To look at his wife's photograph
How does he explain the tears? ⁣
The dead sea overflowing or ⁣
the kitchen sink left on ⁣
for five minutes too long
Love is a language lost in translation
A candle burning at both ends
I know that I'm getting even harder to like, your name is a panic room ⁣
i hide down there when love comes knocking, I don't answer and it burns down the whole goddamned house ⁣
if it's not the fire then it's the sun, ⁣
look it's finally morning in Paris
How do i know that? ⁣
Because the knocking has started again
How can you make something stay ⁣
Ask it to disappear , Like this poem ⁣
It's all over the couch, Split milk calling for attention
Things that don't end well eventually become invisible
Like this poem here ⁣
[ and us ] ⁣
You're a doctor now
Tell me, is the past a curable a disease,⁣
What do you cut first ⁣
the brain or the heart
Tell me which one is easier
Listen, this poem has amnesia
Before it loses its memory again
I have to tell you something
There was a particular moment in that classroom where ⁣
i would rather have had you ⁣
than poetry,⁣
If you ever read this ⁣
I want you to know
That moment has passed.⁣


Swati Barik, The fine art of lying.⁣
   // Instagram: @barelyswati 

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