A wine-dark birthmark the rays of noon can't erase.
You call it beauty as your fingers refuse to cross the border of the stain.— % &I see you dancing barefoot on these shards of stained glass.
Kaleidoscoping through the pain painted on each piece.— % &I draw a little smiley today, on the back of your hand.
You call it a stain of yesterday, rubbing it off with my tears.— % &Your name sneakily lingers beside the twirls of my mehendi.
A stain I don't want to erase.— % &

-

thorn princess

-

through a peep on the keyhole
your hands trembling before the handle
your brain fuzzy with no thoughts
I can't help but remember
the smell of apples and grass
of the garden of Eden
smudged on your shirt
the waft of fresh roses
creeping in ever so gently
and the thorn bleed that flowed
the bleed that you didn't look twice upon
and it flowed
as you walked away

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happiness

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~little things~

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Standing alone, i remember I was afraid of ghosts.
Until you died.

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They mask up in this world of pretend,
Their hidden emotions with much to apprehend,
The disguised lies and faux actions to amend,
Making ends meet with tears, sweat and blood,
In the Isle of optimism in this sorrowful flood,
The sunshine keeps them marching ahead,
Their strong will and faith remain unshaken, unsaid.

-

See.

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He is.

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Would you still love me
when I grow lillies instead of roses?
when the buds don't bloom and all petals wither?
when all the fruits overripe and the flowers die?
when you realise I'm no longer in my roaring twenties?

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