Teacher. Learner. Seeker. Doer. Thinker. Dreamer. Adventurer. Risk taker. Realist. Passionate. Harmonizer. Rules bender. Chaotically creative. Constructively self destructive. Non conformist. Complicated. Trend setter. Nocturnal. Easily high on sugar. A pragmatic escapist. A brutally honest critic. hard to convince . harder to impress. Good at wearing masks. And tearing others’ masks too. Believer in the fluidity of identity. Neruda, TS Eliot, Plath and Woolf - my inspirations. Shadows. Silences. Subconscious. Perfectionist. Individualistic. Detest regimentation. Second hand books, bubbles, balloons, rain drops dancing on the windshield of a fast moving car, lakesides, seasides and mountains make me happy. So do cupcakes, wine, freebies in expensive hotels, the last page of a good book, handicrafts and the smell of grass. post-it notes define me. cleaning is therapeutic. Mathematically challenged. Milk is my drug.Stagnation petrifies me,so do snakes and spiders. Lost a friend 6 years ago. Stopped writing poetry. I imagine. I’m a survivor.
‘I’ve lived through this horrible hell with you’ he yelled, as he accused her, once again, of not trusting him. Trstu, she thought, Was subjective. Trstu, she believed, worked both ways. Watching him in anguish, she realized – her version
I woke up knowing it was time. Only last week I was told about what was growing inside of me. They said it didn’t belong there. We are ready they said. Staring into its soon to hit nonexistence, the bitterness
He faded away into the crowds like a stranger you only feel Never know. She sat scarred Perhaps for life. What he took with him was irreplaceable. What she was left with was Mere wrinkles, Weak knees And no soul.
That smell brought memories that were long suppressed and locked away in the empty space where once her soul rested. The muted vacuum burst into a dark nothingness. He had forced himself into her the last time their gaze met.
You spoke muted words Of empty togetherness; A divided union through a weak connection signaled through the ruffled air, brought messages to her memory still fresh; Only a few of them spoke to the emptiness lost in the silence and
Footsteps formed on the bleached evening ground, created side by side, slowly born to the nothingness of the evening, manifested to the midnight blue. No one watched, no one knew, the overwhelming power that pulled them to life, together, on
The glittering tree And the shivering star Fused, Fusing, witnessed an unusual bond forming, formed, accompanied by wine oh so red oozed, oozing, from lip to lip, from eye to toe, quivered, quivering. Eventually Sanity struck and the blackness of
He gorged on her dreams with no regret no shame. Afterall, he owned her now. while she hoped that the knot would not change him, she felt herself losing her smile, losing her soul. As the drone of nothingness within
When you ripped my mind and watched the fragments fly up around all over, I wonder how the frozen weightlessness of my memories of our past made you feel. Smiling, I let you go, while you still tried to melt
We all have our personal demons; she mumbled, as he hugged her and looked over her shoulder, at the abysmal state of their lives. When will I see yours he asked, anxiously. Just then she let loose the screaming choirs
When you have been for long hanging into a strange nothingness, you begin to feel your floating hinges creak. Decide, decide, decide. Because everyone knows what they want from their lives (it’s believed). But creaking hinges are good I say,