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i am three parts indecision and one part reckless abandon
it is never your fault. their hands are only their hands. they are not trip wire that can be set off by your tongue. or your actions. or your mistakes.
someone once told me that pressure makes diamonds what she forgot to mention was that although what they become can never be scratched, their walls are so hardened that they will shatter whatever they please, tough as the pressure that let them be so maybe that’s why my insides look so much like a struggle that should have set me free
earth & her moon somehow fell out of love
i want to hold you but i haven’t yet learned how to hold myself.
do you remember the night i left all my tears on your skin? each one worth more than any prayer. tell me how you pushed them away without a second thought. tell me how you watched my skin turn to concrete without wrapping your arms around me.
how is it that you can dismiss others as one-dimensional characters static and stock from the beginning to the end of the story you have written about them?
disintegrate into the earth and the earth will disintegrate into the universe and the universe will disintegrate into silence and the poem while it is here will do what it is meant to do — teach us to move as a river that can weave life and feel and softly let go.
when i love, i love hard. i leave no space for question. i place the full contents of my mind on the table. it’s all here for you to see and hear and run from because there is no need to be eased into the parts of my being that aren’t so soft to the touch.
how much beauty is abandoned because there is no time to decipher something that seems so unfamiliar?
how long has it been since you stopped to marvel at the entire garden of your thoughts? i swear, sometimes orchids fall when you speak.
you are the most unlikely outcome of the most unlikely universe. the place where atoms and wonder met. gathering into muscle and heart nerve and skin lungs and light. you are overwhelming.
you say my hair is too pronounced and i wonder whether flowers would cry if they saw one too many petal.
like every field in punjab watered and flourishing. like each cell in my body waking up to sing. like going home and not being afraid. i just thought you should know. i mean, remember. because i’m sure it won’t always feel like this. but i don’t want you to forget that this moment was possible. it can happen again.
