poetry

a tornado sitting at the end of the streeta spindle spinning off its axisor a meteor showerlost its sense of […]

lonely places ~             they grow inside you:             sometimes one is born             with                  a mark of loneliness- soi looked at my

‘a room of one’s own’a corner for yourselfdeep in the crevices of the house you made home-therein lies a contradiction fattened by

parted ~a time to hold ontowhen the darkest moments are darker than your biggest secret: the one you cannot tell

there is a pause between each breath;that placeiswhere death resides-andlife surrendersandspurts forthagain the sun rises between that fullnessand dies its

the adjoining lifethat one next to mine                    where oncewe walked on the streets                           of laughterthere was, at the end of

longingsdeep seated in my memoryresurfacemyriaddeep redthickblooddripping shades of greenshift weathertimelines of separation-it’s monsoonagain (2018) thick resiliencelike molassesi fall to the groundstretching

Isorcery speak to me in the language of flowers-let me do the talking.deep inside i grow flowers- seeds, you ask?

Still nights have become quieter and a city that never slept has resigned itself to a stillness filled with fear.

the city has my marks-like stains ;they wont go permanentlybut they fade with time.on some dayswhen the weather is softerthe