Your beauty was not invented your beauty was given

Given at birth when you opened your eyes
present before your name was lined up in any mind
a truth that is what your beauty is

I,too,wanna go out,but my age,
I feel like I am sitting in a cage !

garlands
blooming within themselves
like the fast-forwarded movements
of a gyre’s quiet devour;
splashes dressed in white
that play by my feet

it is difficult to paint
more so to say
the reckless curiosity of water and wave

a little childish I am
stumbling around the banks of secretive songs
—dirges drowsy that move like silk
and violins’ exaggerated tales
drumbeat rains where Indian brides are known to blush
and acoustic plucks—
drop on bead-like drop
upon my clammy palm

I want all

slip and sink I
within the ongoing skies
fish and bird and moon I meet
shell and bone and mud

a little naive I am
relishing the gusts of sand that
through my curled up hand
gush

it is difficult to learn
more so to sing
the reckless curiosity of shimmer and sun

white and greying gold
on the sand-paper shore

head in a garland of arms
and eyes— breathing
all in
blind with the intensity of gaze

a little ragged I am
a little paper-boat astray
a little cloud painted that forgot to bleed

(a little parched field)

I fell in love with all of you.


I didn’t just fall in love with the best of you, like
The way your eyes light up the moon
The way your laugh makes me smile
The way your hand fits in mine
The way your personality stands out
The way your smile gives me butterflies,
I fell in love with all of you!

I fell in love with your scars,
The way you make sarcastic remarks
The way you feel helpless at 2am
The way you cry about something from years ago
The way you sometimes get angry
The way you sometimes want to be left alone
I fell in love with all of you.
I fell in love with the great in you
And I feel in love with bad you see in yourself
And the bad you see is the great I see.
Because I love every part of you,
Every bit.
I fell in love with all of you…..!

It hurts. . .
the home we didn't build,
the moments yet lived,
the house not purchased,
the vacations not taken,
the memories not lived
it hurts, dreaming of what we could do. . .