I know not when
my heart turned into a ploughed land
sown with seeds of sorrow
splitting me apart

Wrapped around my neck now
are roots choking me with
pangs of guilt, I know not why

-

Rarely there are days
when my lungs isn't a machine
suffocating me with oxygen

Or my heart isn't some device
beating like the seconds hand of a clock
but exposing each inch of my skin
to pricks and tickles of life

It's on such days that I write
It's only on those days that I am alive.

-

My emotions like beaten eggs
flipped over on oven,
slowly browns.
The edges crumbling in
from the heat of truth
folded underneath fate's tongue.

As children dream
with their starry eyes
I hold grains in pursuit of
birds of paradise.

I caused enough wildfires
to realise my heart is
a home to towering trees of wishes
So, I run past twisted turns
and through narrow escapes
to be back burned instead.

-

My last day of college
left me lingering
between accomplishment
and agony, which I never knew
can exist in a way.

I wear my uniform
for one last time,
the rough piece of clothing
that once itched against my skin
today feels soft, it's as if
we both have embraced
each other, once and for all.

-

Have you ever felt alive?
like you can feel the air
passing through, filling your lungs
your heart beating fast
and a sense of ease in mind
For me, it's only been on days I write.

-

Faraway, lies a field of sunflowers
I once planted, one for every wish I had.
Some bear cheerful faces,
while others turned yellow from heat.
I walk amidst my field of dreams
searching for the the one
I planted in your name

The sky changes its color
as has my life with passing breaths
I realise, some dreams of early years
are like fleeting clouds, they don't stay
On the side, my heart wishes the ones
cheerfully blushing at the sun,
be the one I planted in your name.

-

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-

What are thoughts for
if not preserved
what is love for
if not suffered

Pinning for happiness
is numbing your
desire to be.

Let your heart
be pierced, check
what leaks out -
if it's words,
you're alive
if it's blood,
you survived.

-

There are a few things, taught
and a few things, not
On days when wind passes
through strands, fringes of my hair
thoughts play in my mind.

I think about how as learning
to mix colors on pallets
We have mixed our shades
trying to become the perfect color
To paint the canvas infront.

I think about how other colors
hide themselves behind the 7
forming a rainbow and how naturally
as a frown draws out in the sky,
we smile.

(In caption)

-

Winter breeze makes love
with coconut tree right outside
my window, at times,
wrapping the tall,
slender body in its arms,
other times leaning in to kiss hard.
The tree bears tender coconuts,
like bosoms with all pride
and pinnate leaves sways
to the whistles of cold breeze
keeping me awake all the while.

-