The mole on your thigh
is that drop of ink
I accidentally spilled
on a piece of paper
while writing about us.
When I look at it,
sometimes I'm reminded of
the most memorable chapters
of our story.— % &

-

For days now,
I've been wanting to
write a poem on loss
and the grief I've felt
over the last few months.

And a poem on how sometimes
I fear that the world is ending,
Only I don't know
what will be the end of it,
A pandemic, a war
or global warming maybe?

/Caption/— % &

-

You grow on me,
Your warmth,
Like second skin on my skin,
drapes every aching inch of me
and seeps into
the wintry silence of my soul.
You're the hearth that
makes me a home
~for you.— % &

-

Black



It is the most original and ubiquitous of all the colours. In the absence of light, be it in space or on Earth, black is all there is.

In a way, it is the culmination of all the colours. While painting, when you mix all the colours together, you get black.

Black, among other things, represents darkness. It is the quality that makes us flawed and complicated (also, human).— % &

-

Colors were, perhaps,
the first love of my life,
I remember, as a child,
sometimes I would spend hours,
painting, meticulously using
my crayons or watercolors
to give vent to my imagination,
The vibrant pinks, yellows and reds,
all seemed like friends that held
a special place in my heart,
As I grew older though,
They were slowly replaced by
the pens, books and folders on my desk,
Their essence, however,
stayed somewhere inside of me,
A hint of yellow for warmth and happiness,
Some white for innocence and goodness,
A dash of red for love and passion,
Plenty of pink for femininity and sweetness,
And some black for my inner darkness,
Colors that merge and show uniquely,
to create many different
shades of me.— % &

-

You are like that cage
I willingly keep myself in,
my heart caught up in
a cobweb of conflicting emotions.
While half of it seeks security
in the familiar,
the other half seeks freedom
that it knew for years
before I met you.
Dazed, I walk up to the door sometimes
and find it unlocked,
I open it tentatively,
but something inside me
doesn't let me leave.
It chooses to stay.— % &

-

Women widowed,
Children orphaned,
Heaps of rubble lie
where their homes used to be.

Streets abandoned,
Fear reigns,
Cries louder than
their laughs could ever be.

I wonder why the innocent
are always made to pay
for 'their' lust for power
and greed.— % &

-

For damaged souls,
love is a confusing maze.

While you dive deep into
the sea of complex emotions,
Mistrustful, they stand on the shore,
barely dipping their toes.

They watch their backs,
And look for any red flags,
Painfully aware of the many ways
they were left scarred in the past.

They hold on so tight,
you start slipping through their fingers,
Or worse, they stand with one foot out the door,
ready to leave before you abandon them.

Damaged souls fear love (and crave for it too),
If only they understood,
Within them exists the universe in all its glory,
That they were and will always be enough.— % &

-

Don't fear pain.
Emotional pain can be
the beginning of personal growth
and transformation.— % &

-

Do me a favour,
Come closer and put
your hand on my skin,
right above that sacred place
where they tell you,
the fist-sized human heart rests.

No, don't caress me,
Just stay like this,
Something in here aches,
I am in so much pain,
Let your warmth seep in
and comfort me,
Please Stay.— % &

-