Move

I’m sending the boy from the coffee shop
The decision I did not take 
The mouth I hurt
The hand I miss 
I’m sending curd with honey

The moment when time stops
The day I met you
The year I was born

The second that always loves me
I’m sending freshness
My toes 
And all that is good in me

I’m sending the slum in the lane I live in
Caramel popcorn
Two veg samosas 
The movies I saw without you

I’m sending the videos on the Volvo buses to Bombay
Your hair
I’m sending my age
My art and my way
Of making fruit salad
I’m sending how I looked at you
How wrong I was
I’m sending what’s left
What I see when I wake up
I’m sending what only you know
I’m sending the places my face touched 
On your body
The sentence I said to you on the swing 
The phone calls I really don’t want to make any more
I’m sending nothing
I’m returning all of your sentences that had the word expensive in it
I’m returning your beauty
I’m returning your violence

I’m sending the way I looked when I left 
I’m sending Thank Yous
& Fuck Yous
I’m sending dictionary definitions of the words Theft, borrow, and No
I’m sending one million reasons to stop lying
I’m sending Confidence
Incense, and everything else you can’t stand

I’m sending The end of self-pity
I’m sending Dal makhani  
I’m sending everything we have in common
All the reasons why you don’t like me
I’m sending how I talk to the moon
How I look when I wear my hair down
I’m sending understanding
Floors to sit on
Ponds cold cream
Amul curd 
Someone to touch 
Shoulders To Hold your heart
I’m sending paint for the swing
Rose water
Plum jam the way my grandmother made it

I’m sending thanks for not having me anymore
And thanks for helping me grow
I’m sending what it takes to live with you 
I’m sending what remains
I’m sending Jaisalmer, The backwaters
I’m sending you my first visit, The entire wing of
An old palace somewhere in Rajasthan
I’m sending Dust
Dawn and Stillness
I’m resending everything I already gave you
I’m sending the bra that needs washing
The parcel I don’t want to open
The neighbor who hits her child
I’m sending my ponytail
A shampoo bottle
My loneliness
I’m sending skin that cannot forget
Feet that will never leave
A Love that is unafraid of your face.

The Sentences Carry the Emotion

An item named body exists already in this location.
She films her intuition only.
She is beautiful.
A rectangle. 
She hasn’t even started her yoghurt.
Some always stays stuck to the wall of glass.
3 outstretched words on a table.
On top of each other.
Unconscious.
The bottom word has no mother.
We have so much love to do.
She reaches for her voice.
Armies of arms in young blazers.
Do you want to taste my kiss from 2004?
She hasn’t even started her yoghurt.
And then something will happen again.
Customers, generally male, enter booths with windows or shutters.
Some are engaging in Masturbation.
We have so much love to do.
Some always stays stuck to the wall of glass.
Paper towels are provided.
The content of this poem refuses to move out.
Language thinks its collapse.
Ideal conditions are difficult to achieve in the home. 
If we need the private to be public exposed parts will feel maniacal.
Silence is a form of pain.
Silence is the basic sound element of love.
Sutures must be strong.
Sutures must be flexible.
The thread color was straw.
The thread color was violet.