If I make the walls sharp,
maybe no one will lean in.
If I salt the earth of my name,
maybe no one will try to stay.

I leave my warmth in pieces
just enough to haunt,
never enough to hold.

I speak in riddles
and scatter my silences
like traps in the underbrush,
as if love were a hunter
I could outsmart.

Better they flinch early,
before they learn the language
of my breaking.

Better they run
before I watch them
walk.

Your Words
Speak
More
My Calmness
Wins
Your
Speech
Till
My
End
         - Amisha priya

The street is washed in a morning hush,
Tiles whisper stories under rush.
A woman walks in crimson grace,
her dress flowing behind her
A building in the background keeps watch
Over all that’s there
Like a silent protector

Between the stone and sky’s soft blue,
The city breathes in something true.
Modern windows, ancient light—
the city begins the day just right.

Once
Fault
Is
A
Fault
Minimize
To
Act
According
To
Gender
                  - Amisha priya