shivani-lalanWhisper

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Lights, Camera, Action.*And lights.* / She looked a little pale / In the yellow light.
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KnivesHe had a habit of forgetting / That the knife should be / At his left,
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NaPoWriMo #19 - on dissing the classics for a 12 y/ooh but my love is not / *a red, red rose.* / i chose to replace
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The noose, to my dream.Your neck is bruised and red and raw, / dear dream. / Your pulse is feeble, last that I saw,
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#4 ('You and I', a series)We've been this way for a very long time, we've been together for more time than you can imagine. Little weary chains link our minds, looping in and out and up and down. We're this tangled mess of synced thoughts and synced dreams, and sinking syllables. / Every sigh that you let slip from your tired lips is an indication of my exhaustion, because you and I, we lie in comfortable tessellation. / You and I, we've been through magical realism, and the romantics, and the surrealists, the grammar nazis and the pretenders.
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The Patron Saint Of InspirationIn shaking verse / She writes down the gifts of his divinity. / Her trembling meter pays homage
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Strength lives in a black sariclick / click / clack
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i am// je suis// मैं हूँNow / i am one / with
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It was my cake, you know.Anyone would be upset, right? / You took a slice of my cake, / It took me seven hours to bake.
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The Ebb and The FlowBegin anew. / Start afresh. / I want to go
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