The sky is not just a sky tonight, it is a mirror of something hidden within me, It is the thoughts that implode in my mind, The secrets buried deep inside, A family that would break if it was brought to light, An inter battle she will always fight, At
She buried the pain, And built walls so decorated there unrecognizable, Threw the little girl who never had a voice inside, Now she is a woman and Suddenly she's talking no longer drowning her voice, There's nothing you can do to stop her now, Your worried
Every word speaks my mind, Every tune sticks to my bones. All of a sudden, it seems so clear, It's whispering all I need to hear. I dive in deep, as it echoes through me, Ears pricked up, I listen to the piece. Somebody's clearly been
It is now that I see the ease, Some movement of your fingers — And the puppet dances as you please. But two hands and legs don't make us men, I know I was the one with the threads, But your using them like that was insane. It is
You poured it all, like oil into my soul, I took it gently, unaware, And though it turned out to be a cloud of smoke, The load held onto my heart so bare. It weighed me down, like a fruit from a branch, I withered a little, everyday, I still
The first night I stopped chasing time, hollowness groped my throat with its bare hands. Yet, I just kept suffocating on the absence of everything. Silence sat on my chest like the hope of the newly abandoned kitten - Still thinking it'll be called back home. See, I&
I wonder how it is, To be so filled with life, That the sun makes a home of your lips, And fills the world with warmth every time you smile. I wonder how it is, To be so incredibly alive, That the night seems to reside in the pitch black
Why does the cold-blooded moon press against my heart ? Grief, a blot, a strange silence that still makes noise on this October afternoon. I scrolled through the screen of my phone, somatic reels dissolving into me. My right ear rested on the pillow; I could almost hear the heavens calling.
Another august passes by With dreams still cradling in eye sockets And goals still running along the circumference of dark circles Like mist it appears in front of my eyes Making my 6/6 vision, a haziness of hope Like thyme, it grows around my heart Giving only a mild
some mornings, my inner child whispers: you are a paper boat, folded with wonder, floating in wild rain. hold me close, even when storms pull at your own edges. and I nod, as I wrap her in my cardigan of thoughts, promise her bedtime stories even when sleep tiptoes away.
They ask Why are you so quiet? as if silence doesn’t scream in softer tongues. As if the museum of my feelings hasn’t been echoing in empty halls for years. I write in the language of sighs, in pauses between breaths, in the trembling hush before sleep. My
Last summer, my grandmother clogged my brain with her spice directory. Asafoetida kept your health on track, turmeric was anti inflammatory, cinnamons comb the air to doll it up, and cumins add strength to your limbs. I learnt how to lodge loads of love in a small jar of lemon