But once the walls fell,
There was nothing left to extinguish.
No flame between us,
No love between blankets,
No memory of how we got here.
When the floor beneath us went missing,
We turned stranger to the arms that once
felt like home.

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So when you read this,
Feel the flutter in your heart,
Feel your fingertips morphing into stories,
Know that this is me.

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Is it for the makeshift life raft “I love you’s”?
Hoping its enough to remind you that “I’m still here, I’m still fighting for us”
What happens when your hand meets a phone screen in place of skin,
And bad connection instead of “I’m here”.
(Full text in description)

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As she rubs against the surface of a piece of paper with more zeros than stories
She looks at me and I realize ,
I am the only future nani will ever get to see.

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The sound of myself breaking is keeping me up tonight.
11:11 at this golden hour i cannot distinguish whether i am floating or drowning in my tears,
At 11:12 i am not sure which i prefer to be true.

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From blank pages a poet could rise.
(Full piece in description)

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Me too- because i have spent too many nights chanting my own name to remind myself that “item”, “babes”, “firang pataka” and “baby doll” did not belong to me.

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My body grew a cape in place of a backbone...
(Entire piece in the description)

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I don’t write love poems,
But the taste of your lips still lingers like poetry.
Our love was a shooting star,
No matter how many wishes I make,
No matter how many metaphors the universe envisions,
No matter how many times you promise yourself that this will last,
Remember stars were meant to crash and burn.
This is to remind myself , that I survived the fall.

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I stopped writing love poems,
When my poetry replaced your chest.
I still know the map of your fingertips like a habit ingrown,
Your contact number now wiped from my phone,
Our pictures gone with the wind; reminders of the girl i was.

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