My mind revisits,
you getting off the taxi,
to say goodbye;
our only embrace,
your right arm around me,
five seconds of my breath,
holding itself to match your vibe,
at the foot of the bridge,
city lights and car honks,
the grins of flower sellers,
witnessing our fiddly departure,
our glances failing to unite,
our voices suspended in time,
the flavour of that midsummer night,
lost in battle to distance and time.

-

My rage flows in blue glitter ink,
my hapless fate drapes itself golden,
my sorrow boldly struts in aching red,
my empathy adorns an ironic green cape,
while the white and grey on me reflect
the prismatic raven hue of my soul.
Is this how being coloured by water feels?

-

The touch of raindrops on sea skin
pulls her mind into a wormhole.

She recalls his eyes - stone cold,
her feet blistered by his detachment.

Seven revolutions later,
seven more times since the sky wept in joy,
she puts up a sign which reads closed.

The waves had taught her,
too much is a subjective reality
because
if the receiver has shut their lid,
even a drop will seem like an overflow.

-

Being an empath is the
personification of drowning
without touching water.

-

I hold your name
like a customary prayer,
you toss mine like
a forgotten sin.

As our breaths collided,
I swam through emotion
and you gained experience.

-

The sea does not fear its fervour,
because the shore knows how to hold it,
and let it retreat as per its own hourglass.

In the very same way,
whenever I feel my tides are high,
you stand taller and let me crash.

Thank you for being my shore.

-

They were what my heart wanted.
You are what my mind needs.

-

Our stolen glances and repressed desires,
wilfully pushed aside through rushed laughter,
only to find a seat in our minds' eyes.

-

who can create
a six-part documentary
containing subtitles
in languages with
no written script
featuring 'Silence'
as the main lead.

-

More often than not,
the abundance of loss,
is actually
a hidden blessing.

-