i cry at any song that’s
even remotely
“pretty in a sad way,”
as my roommate says.
i cry whenever anyone
raises their voice around me,
it doesn’t even have to be
at me.
i cry when people
cry around me,
even when it’s not my problem,
or worse, when it is.
i break,
break down at minor inconveniences,
but who’s to call me fragile
except myself?
(because if anyone else did,
i'd probably cry)

Internetly
There's nothing I cannot be
I can pretend I am rich
Or young, or anyone
But me
But that doesn't work
With poetry
It strips me bare
For all to see

You may not have those crooked teeth,

But I still wonder
Is there somewhere


You can meet                

              me?

Tonight  is this year's first fog in the city  .It's smell approaches  me through the crevices on bottom of window frames .
.
Our days  of memories forbid me to sleep . My eyelids heave with the excitement at which my thoughts want to celebrate your immortality within me .My eyelashes are too heavy with tears to be lifted up .
.
I am reminded of the time when I was so scared of the water stretches and their depth until I looked deep in your eyes that flooded , held a hundred tides of reasons , an accumulation of all the why whirling on a monotonous note .
.
I am reminded of the lesson that pain isn't abstract , it heaves in the familiar undiscovered parts of my body   when I breathe in your absence.
.
I close my eyes tonight   and when I take the name of universe and god, I see the vision of your face . As I isolate from the worldly tantrums and try sinking deep in my conscience,  I am draped with the feelings you offered me in all ways .

Divya

******* if he can like me then I can like my ******* self too

every lie is a *****, rusting, digging into more of what lives in my chest. if you can imagine how a spider's walk sounds, then you'll hear my brown bones closing over this thing that is red. my body is a crowd of one, a room full of me: i stay caged between 4 walls, and it is lonely.

be still so the hounds don't bring you down, not so still that they win without a fight. be still, red thing, but not so still that you may never move again. the world has an appetite for your kind of soul: their mouths, yours too, will be used against you; they'll swallow your tongue and say it was their food.

confined to this live-wire city, you wonder if you chose to be unseen. you wonder when you stopped seeing, too, stopped being a girl with a mouth full of teeth and a red rose that bloomed when she would sing, dance, dream, a girl with less to care for and more to care about, a girl who knew a thing before she was told how she ought to know it.

so what do i know? i sit in this car, i go up this road following signs that read 'home', watching traffic lights come and then go, greening it all the way to the highest hilltop. but mountains tower in the backdrop, the way down becomes an endless ***** and these burning lamps line the sides in warning, urging me to keep to the road.

there is wind in my hair, stars in the radio, and the man in the passenger seat is someone i won't know. he has brown eyes, warm skin, a Cheshire cat grin, and he is everything i hoped he would be, it's unreal. he's here in this scene, in the credits to a movie that plays on repeat, with me on this road to a home that never shows.

and everything bows to the clock anyway so i take charge of the man, the car and the stars, i take charge of the hounds and the spider in my mouth, i take charge of the heart and the bones and the dark, and i let the clock pull me out, out, out and into the arms of something new.