They didn’t tell me growing up was nurturing houseplants of responsibilities and often failing to water them because you are binge-watching a DVD of nostalgia on nights when loneliness sublets you it’s house. They didn’t tell me growing up was walking in circles in my room past midnight trying to remember the face of my imaginary friend. Dimming in my mind in slow motion like the night mode of my phone.
In my daydreams, I am cuddling the moon and gluing the stars to form constellations like the connect the dots puzzles that arrived in the newspaper every Sunday.Continue reading “Witching Hour: Snippet”
-> The shimmering holes in the jar of the sky are the tapestry of entangled neon fairy lights of the Universe. The most ancient of nursery rhymes ever warbled, the wonderment of the wild, the stars.
Stars, the holes in the jar of the sky poked by the space dust and countless unnamed, untamed vapors of the cosmos comfort me.
But tell me, Why do you Love?
4.5 billion years from now, the Milky Way and Andromeda will intertwine in the Newtonian snow globe of fates,
The ‘survival of the fittest’ humanity shrinks into indivisibility, smolders into supernovas in outer space.
This four-letter word will exist, an irrational number in binary codes of continuity,
Because you and I are matter, uninterrupted and indestructible beyond infinity.
The Damned Poetry
They say, “Butterflies are proof that you can ride the carousel of darkness yet still walk out into something beautiful.” But I was reluctant to agree.
You live inside the phenomenon that Newton was never able to discover.
The Epilogue of Wanderlust
Wanderlust etched in the calcium of her bones,
Sprinkled like the dust of pixies in the carbon of her soul.
Searching for a pair of arms and a soft smile to call them her home,
On the streets whose names she can’t pronounce where directions are written in a foreign dialect, she rummaged and roam.
Rummaged and Roam.
Every morning, awoken by the silent screams of her soul,
Like the convulsing tides of the misty ocean reaching on the shore.
Carbon soaked nightmares found tangled in her dreamcatcher,
Heart <a href="http://Toxic“>intoxicated with the fatal poisons of broken matters.
Daughters of History
History is overcrowded with women who were harmonies,
Cadencing with the delicacy of vulnerable melodies.
Your ancestors were crystal chandeliers and exquisite geodes,
Fragility dribbling from edges and nodes.
She camouflaged under the spiral of books,
Caging the brutality and inequality in the lines of a notebook.
She told, girls possess the cells of storm and bravery,
Undefined valour, immeasurable kindness was their geometry.
With Love from Your Soul
Silent wishes of wrapping my arms around your existence,
Erasing your kerosene sodden, trauma laced reminiscence.
Hidden under the charcoal hallways in your mind,
Leaving behind, mosaics of joy and abstracts of sunshine.