Tag Archives: as


above the mountains, touching rooftops
where dreams are made through Kais and Gerdas of tonight,
their flowers – moondust
eclipsing the broken shells of sky.

i tell you, soar,
as if there was no tomorrow – who knows
if there will be a today.
i see horizon cracking at the edges, burdened with heavy clouds
of rain. cumulative correlation of cumulous clouds.
the very thought is raining on me.

so build your wings, Icarus:
i keep one eye in those clouds to watch over your flight.

as though you might not make it.


the blind spot

as an endless circle
of coiled nucleic acid strand
without a protein coat
to hide in

so here you are:
i’m naked
like the moon,
causing the tides of your moods,
falling behind
the thick mesh of clouds
and reappearing
as a sliver
after total destruction
of another menstrual lifecycle

and i’ve noticed
you don’t see the moon unless you’re looking for it
or sleeping with your face under the open sky

its coming and going
passes the world silently by

that’s why my whole life
has been about finding
the blind spot
in the lover’s eyes.

73. so you can stop and wonder if i’m yours

i’ve decided, i won’t allow words to tear us all apart. and my pain shouldn’t matter. this pain is fleeting. and my heart will be beating into the next millenium, where loves bloom redder than cranberries in the bitter frost.

i said something important to you yesterday. via text. and i don’t know if you picked up on it. so many words get lost in translation  from my world to yours.

i don’t believe that every little death brings one closer to life, but i do believe that every little love does.

and i have loved you inconsistently, wrongly asking you to love me as i wish. maybe you can’t love me with all the roses and the cards. maybe my loves are too extravagant for you. maybe i ask too much without the need for such. but i can dream.

and i will dream. in silence.
my dreams will burn and burn.
for three weeks at the very least, i’ll be perfect. and i won’t argue and i won’t bite.

so you can taste the cranberries as they were before the winter, so you can stop and wonder if i’m yours.

you’re coming back to me

you’re coming back to me,
smell of your shampoo in my eyes,
inviting a stampede through memories
as my thoughts of you singe
the body i’m in

and i wanna be a shooter
shooting time
but i’m gonna
throw the world a dime

and wait.

69. let the whole world ignite for me

i know the child in you. the one which craves the praise from the lips it longs to kiss. and yet the child cannot accept it, for the twinge of sarcasm ibmursed in the words.
and then you long for the acceptance of your mother, father, brother: their words of praise, like mine, cherished but disbelieved.
what of it? one must live for something.
you live for praise.
i live for love.

the english boy’s resurfaced. just like i predicted, him and the girl broke up. now, he is moving on. moving on me, maybe, but i reckon just moving on to the world. today, he approached me three times. and every time, i bat away his advances with a smile on my face. why should i contemplate burning for him if i am the candle of your life?

too many lives, too many stories and there will be no more parafin, no more wax, no more light. i am aware of that.
i lived through life before you. 

now i know it’s enough to burn for you so let S burn for me.
and let the whole world ignite for me. for this love, this kiss, as it opens its bud of sunshine every morning on your lips.

your life is blistered…

your life is blistered
by the setting sun
and dreams we dreamt
as if we were living
for one life only

the jokes we told
today: the ironies of life,
the laughs we laughed
callused by bitter strangeness 

to you
is but a foreign language
to me it’s broken glow stick lighting up the sky

 i’ll say goodbye
but not in english

i’ll say goodbye
and it will be forever new.


last weekend i was away with friends. trekking. miles walked under the coldness of october sun with you, with Y and others. according to Y it is over a year since he began life anew with his blonde. i know it isn’t. the day he professes their anniversary is the day i spent crying in his arms. it was the day when i almost begged him for a platonic kiss. it was the day he said “how can it be platonic if we are in love?”

48. sweet as lemon sorbet

half my life, i’m freefalling, the other half – looking back on the sights i’ve seen in those few moments before my parachute opened, before the maddening rush of adrenaline was curbed by my safety net, the soft fabric above me saving me.
you are that fabric – the fabric of my life spun by the yarn of your love, by the generosity of those hands turning the spindle. 
all because you feel responsible for me. or maybe not.

in the end, my life’s my life: a merger of past faces, names, soft hands that once caressed my skin or longed to do so.
and you.
the thread of you’s the thread of me. and i want everyone you know to love me, unbearably, exquisitely so that you know the worth of love. so that you can count broken smiles knowing something inside them breaks for me.

an only child, i knew how to be painfully selfish. i learnt it well, my only teacher – solitude and parents’ love. but here i am, sister in tow, and still that only child rhetoric lives on in me. so once in a while, i feel in need of broken dreams of others to see my hope reflected in those pieces of looking-glass.

and if you can’t blame me who can blame me?
my friend once told me i was cruel to boys, to men, male counterparts. that i was cruel because my skattered gazes never solidified, my touch was soft but vapid, my hands gentle but uncaring. so what? i said it’s my revenge. 

and so it is.
as sweet as lemon sorbet melting on my lips.