dare
October 26, 2026
me not, but look up
the skies clear, eyes
smiling, masked face behind
what’s laughable to this
meeting, yes, i am indeed
the victim of the guy-girl, the sinner
of this staring, as it rears, the origin
of breathskin, of one-two, of hello
without saying anything but one jerk
to another’s notice—the girl
despite herself, curls
the small, bright light of her smile
warm against my fear, unlaces
slippery wants, turns away, and the winds
rush past, trees walk slow, birds
screech in picture, saying
what if, what more, how to say
hello.
Gargi
Gargi Janghel is an 18-year-old writer from Chhattisgarh(bhilai) who finds poetry in ordinary evenings and turns them into something surreal. She writes about the quiet moments, feelings, and places that often go unnoticed.