Born in a hospital room, I was marked a girl.

Lying in the incubator, they labelled me with a name.

A name that would give my existence validation.

I had no say.

At 4, I was marked as a daughter.

My father’s hand hitting me hard across the face.

Too fragile to fight back, I cried.

I had no say.

At 14, I was marked as a girlfriend.

A kiss and my hands in his hair was all it took.

No matter my age, nobody ever asked.

I had no say.

Marks and scars grew with age

Hand in hand, pain and gains.

At 20, I was marked as a student.

He should’ve taught me psychology, but I got a piece of his mind.

Groping me by my waist, I stood there, numb, aghast.

Too humiliated to respond, I ran.

I had no say.

At 26, I was marked as a wife. On our wedding night.

His touch set my scars ablaze, like burning through a flame.

He’d come home every night, take me for 11 minutes and would push me over to my bed side.

Too used to sustain, I cringed at every turn with pain.

I had no say.

At 32, I was marked as a mother. It was a feeling like no other.

The little fingers touched my now yellow bruise.

I’ll never mark you, I said, it’s a truce.

No scars for you, no writhing with pain.

If there is, I’ll flush it down the drain.

You’ll always have a say.

Be marked, you never may.

I’ll Hold You

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Why didn’t you come?

I said I’d wait for you.

No matter how long I had to,

But I would.

And I know for sure,

That if not days,

If not months,

You would come by years later 

But you would.

But, you stomped on my trust and faith in you.

In time and in love.

You showed me a dusty mirror.

Which was squeaky clean with a promise of fruitful longing.


My love,

I ask of you.

Every time I offer you my hand, 

My hand is a tree.

A tree,

With branches for fingers.

Fingers that are lush

And fragrant of care and love.

Bloom, will flowers.

Once they feel you warmth.

Grab onto any one of them

I’ll make it the highest branch.

The branch which takes you closer to the sun, 

To all the warmth it has to offer.


Taking Back

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If someday, ever, we collide.

Cross each other’s path on a road wide.

I’ll look at you and smile,

Maybe you would too.

Even if out of sheer courtesy.

Maybe, we’ll try to break the ice,

We never could.

You’ll ask me out for coffee, or maybe not.

But, I’d rather believe that you would.

For old times,

For our time’s sake.

We’d walk in silence.

Just like the last leg of our relationship.

Finally reaching somewhere, anywhere,

We’d sit and talk.

About work, pets, life.

Which you and I already know.

4 years is a long time, dear.

The conversation would drag,

The onlookers would smile

At the two friends who are carelessly laughing.

Not a care in the world.

No matter how many hours we sit there,

Trying to escape the tension,

Hiding with smiles.

You’ll ask,

” Do you miss it?”

” If you want a day back from our time, what will it be.”

“Do you love someone now.”

And an array of questions,

Which, if I answered, would hurt you.

But, I will answer one of the questions, if you asked that.

” If you want a day back from our time, what will it be.”

I’d say, without a doubt,

Or a frown,

“I’d want the one, the day you left me,

And decided I wasn’t enough to make you stay.

I’d want to relive that day, just as it was.

No, I won’t stop you.

And just when you’re about to leave,

When you are about to bang that door,

Whose bang still wakes me up in the middle of the night.

I would tell you, everything that I’ve been wanting to say.

All these months, all these minutes.

I’d tell you, our four years, were beautiful.

And you made me cry, you made me yell, you made me smile.

And I’d bid you goodbye.

One that I never had.

With a chaste kiss,

But no promises to drop by.”



It will never be easy enough to let go of your memories. One shard, one tiny piece will always remain. In my heart, in my diaries, in poems, in my conscience. It will always, always feel like it was just yesterday when it all went wrong, I will always remember that one night where you just threw us away, because of just one simple misunderstanding. When has love, friendship, hatred ever been easy? If it were, all the prose and poetry would burn in the ashes and would probably be all about how Apocalypse will take us all away one day. But you never gave me a chance to make you see what you had assumed. You never let me jostle you and make you see the light, make you see that, no, I never wanted to burn you, I always wanted to keep you warm. Always.

It’s just as hard as that night, still. After, all the places I went with a different set of people, who never mentioned you. But I always missed you. Between jokes, between gossip, between everything. You see, you were my connect to the world I once loved. You were the reason I wanted to live in a world where selfishness overtook breathing for a priority.

I always try though, to not to talk about you, to not meet your eye, to not be in the same room as you. But how long do I resist my wanton need for you? Your skin, your touch, your smile, your cries, how can I not want them? How can I not wrap your sweater around my body in the hot May summer and cry relentlessly?

Come back, and stay. Even if it’s a goodbye 5 minutes later, but, stay. Please.



Painted Red

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I painted my lips

In the colour of your love.

Dark, everlasting,

On the show, for everyone.

So deep, it burned.

The desire scorched deep into my bones.

Passion was a feeling,

I showed everyone what it looked like.

With you.

Every night, you took my breath away.

Every morning, made me glow with grace.

In your company, I knew what happiness is.

Your kisses so ferocious,

They made me dance on thin air.

Your touch so gracious,

It made me tumble into a pool of heated mess.

Oh, what are you doing to me, love?

It’s driven me senseless,

I’ll try to contain my longing.

Till the next time, I paint my lips red.


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I am sitting beside you right now, holding a river.

When we are looking over the city lights together, I glance at the hues on your face.

We’ll sit here tonight, hands in hand,

For the last time.

When you leave tomorrow morning, I’ll finally stop looking for you to return.

I won’t sit by the window anymore, no more coffee sipping in the balcony.

Don’t look back

I won’t be there to hold you with my gaze.

Mine and your eyes, have grown weary.

You won’t get to read this,

It will be one of the many entries

I made to myself when you sleep to pretend

And I wake up to pretend knowingly

That you are leaving.

Shred by shred

Piece by piece

As the clock ticks

As the trust fades, discomfort and disloyalty grey upon the best.

Rock Bottom

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It’s easy to be lost

Lost deep in something,


And not know that you were.

Toxic as it is, it’s beautiful

Your guard falls lose.

The fog clears out.

The sun shows up.

Blazing and pure.

Bright with dazzling light.

But words are still cold.

Frosty grass. Dewy leaves.

You come stand between happiness.

A glass wall your personification.

In front of me, you stand

With coloured flowers.

Made of paper.

They crunch down as I walk.

You open your arms,

The deck of cards falls down.

Slowly you are just a pile of cards.

Each card with a promise,

Coloured black,

Written at back,

The real catch.

One was from the night I was too broken.

“what do you want from me?” I had said between my heaves and dried swollen eyes.

The back of the card reads “to waste your time for a few months and never talk to you again”

I kick the cards through the frost.

I knock the glass down.

The land in front is barren and lifeless.

It’s certain.

It’s rock bottom.




Dancing In The Rain

Holding you by your hands I urge you to come forward. The scent makes my head swirl with a new found feeling which only you can define. You say you don’t like the rain. I laugh at that, the kind of laughter that people save for their best friends, their close ones, their soulmates. I wonder now, what made it so easy, why didn’t my heart urge me to hold it back. I might have tried to fit you in one of the usual categories, but you are not the usual for me.

After your countless refusals, I manage to drag you into the ground, your feet soaking in the wet mud, the little puddles now starting to form. You look annoyed but you aren’t, you are enjoying, maybe a little, but enjoying nonetheless, just won’t admit it. Why wouldn’t someone admit if they feel home somewhere and that somewhere is not home? That somewhere could be right here, a person, looking right back at you with the biggest of smiles they can manage.

You are soaked wet, you don’t wish to dance with me. You find it “too childish”. Why don’t you embrace the child inside you. Oh yes, you claim to be all grown up, you are going to college this year. Who set these norms down? I find these norms “childish”.

I dance anyway, you look at me with a look I don’t recognise. Maybe I do. It’s a look that I don’t recognise on you. The way I look at the world with your existence, the way I look at you like you are the most prized possession I have in this entire galaxy, the way you look at your lifeline. I must be stupid, why’d you look at me like that? Why would the extraordinary example of the word extraordinary look at something so ordinary like me. It must be the rain, the water must’ve clouded my vision, the heady scent of you and the mud hindering my senses.

I continue the jump in the puddles that are ready to be splashed in the most wonderful way. I skip from puddle to puddle and there you stand your arms folded over your chest and you are no longer laughing just like you were minutes back, you are not shaking with laughter. I stop in the middle of the jump I was just about to complete and land into the puddle nearest to you. I lose balance and ready to fall head first into the muddy ground.

You catch me before I land head first in the mud, but you lose balance with me and fall right where I was supposed to be half a second back. You take me along with you. I don’t feel the pain of my hurt nose, I want you to be okay. Just like you want to breathe every second and protect your life. How’d you become as precious as my life. Maybe you are my life now. Just maybe.

We are both wiping mud of each other’s face and laughing through are partly muddy teeth. The mud doesn’t make you look any less beautiful than you already are. It’s just as the leaves fallen from the tree during spring. They are gorgeous even when they are no longer a part of the tree. You don’t need a tree to complete you, you are the tree, you are the leaves, still on the tree and on the ground.

Your white shirt soaked in brown is no more white, I joke about it and you comment on my sea green dress. You tell me how I am more like algae in the stagnant water. Just like your stagnating presence. I am neither green, nor brown. I want you to complete my green or my brown, I am incomplete without your fallen leaves.

We head inside, there’s no change of clothes for you. You just head back to the shower and appear in my big jumper, which fits you completely. Just like you fit my life completely. You fill all the spaces in my life full of baggy jumpers.

I take out a towel for you to dry your hair, you might catch a cold. You take the towel and start drying your hair. You tell me to get one for myself and I head back to the closet, I get another towel and I don’t see you. Were you gone to change or you didn’t like the rain all too much?

I see you just at that second. You made tea for yourself. You apologise that you didn’t make for me and I don’t mind. Why would I? You are my tea, all the warmth I might get from tea, all the soothing that tea might give.

You get another cup and we share the tea you made. Hundred things I could list that were wrong with the tea and just as that thought crosses my mind you say that yourself. You call it the worst drink you’ve ever tasted and I laugh along. Boy, would I love your mistakes.

We finish our tea quietly. Me, too happy and sated, you, on the other hand, too embarrassed. I get up and take our cups to the kitchen. You drag me back, you tell me to stay right there and the cups and the kitchen can wait. Of course they can, for you, anything could. I sit there and I look into your eyes, hesitant. What if you are uncomfortable, would I make you uncomfortable. Midst that soliloquy, you look into my eyes. The soul baring gaze that you have. Oh darling, I’d bare my soul to you this moment and you can keep it forever. Would you keep it though? Just don’t crush it, it’s in your hands. You inch nearer to me, just like I had always dreamed you would, is it still a dream? Can be, you are dream perfect. Dream perfect to me. You wipe the mud off my forehead and plant a little baby kiss there. And I turn red, so red that you laugh and you kiss me on the mouth, our first kiss. Better than my dreams, best at reality.

You pull back, still inches away from my lips, our noses touching just like our souls. I can hear nothing but your breathing and you pull me up against you and say,

“Let’s dance in the rain”.

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