in how i’m (homeward) bound
wrapped in cloth,
hardcover edition
laced with fingerprints,

is it in the spine? cracked but unwavering
perhaps the torn pages, underlines
is it in the softness of the papyrus?
or edges; cuts earned in haste.

in how my back is a yellowed loan card
tattooed by those who have held me temporarily
signed, dated.

but my first page, reserved -
in how i  am addressed ‘to you’
a labor of love
branded,
belonginghood
birth right

Is it in how  i am all bark
no bite
451 degrees
Fahrenheit
numbered pages
infinite
all leaves (of absences)
the vessel of a hero’s journey.

in how i was birthed from something alive
something with roots
foreign, far from here
in how i came from earth, and
to her i shall return.

in how i will be shelved away, margin(alised)
in how i will degrade,
or rather, be degraded (by those who put me down after one chapter)
is it in how most dont venture past my cover?
(i’m learning to be ok with that)

in how i come alive at your touch, restoration
how my words dance off
the pages when i’m looked at
euphor

in how i cease to exist when i’m
passed over
in how i burn
golden
accidental
alexandria.

For a fleeting 6 hours, the outside world melted away. And in that silence i strangely found that i scare myself, this intensity with which i love others. i throw everything i have and more into it. turn myself inside out. in some ways, it is my biggest strength and my worst vulnerability. even when one’s natural instinct is to withdraw and shut down, i'd rather pull them closer, and have them want my company. sit in your pain, alone if you must, but let me be close by. I’m not sure i fully comprehend the concept of space. I don’t much like silence. does that reek of desperation? Probably, but that has no bearing on me either. i fall in love deeply and loudly and unapologetically. does admitting love multiple times dilute the intensity? i am prouder of the people i love than they are, but in their sadness, i too am inconsolable. i will definitely send out an army to find you. what use is being loved if one is alone in their lows. anyways, i never make apologies for how i love and i hope the day never comes where i have to.

love is painful. love is endless waiting for someone to turn back when you too, are walking away. or trying, at least. but what is relief without knowing how pain chokes your breath?

love doesn't know what he wants.
love is confusion and a pendulum of emotions. Love doesn't want to hurt people, but when it comes to me, love forgets that my heart bleeds too.

is love unrequited? maybe. maybe I don't want to accept it. maybe love loves someone else's smile now. maybe love's heart doesn't drop when he sees me in class, maybe love ignores what his heart is whispering.

maybe love will see this and relive his scrapbook of us. maybe love will confront the right people. or maybe he will scroll past this.

unrequited love is painful, but being drawn in and left is **** near-apocalyptic. if nothing else, we made good breakup poetry.

maybe love lacks courage. maybe that's an easier excuse for me to accept. it is far easier to imagine a heart that cowers from the truth rather than one whose truth I don't recognise. is it time to walk away without looking back? I just want to lie to myself tonight. but then again, can you blame me?

time will grain your polaroids
and bury your touch
unloving you

"you were a parade of red flags but I screamed colour blind from the rooftops.
you see,
scarlet is the colour of both love and betrayal."

the colour of betrayal far outshines Vantablack
its depth is a cumulus cloud of chaos and agony
tinged with the wails of a wilting wallflower
bloodied scarlet, a glimmer of unrequited love
purple promises writ into skin, bruised and broken

his voice, honey-coated ballads

his frame; a haiku
three lines and one more

" you're not mature enough to handle it"
so apparently, I'm old enough to handle a back-breaking amount of schoolwork, the stress of living up to your expectations and that of two dozen relatives, the standards of a dysfunctional society, but NOT one, single BOY.

2. " it distracts you from your studying"
well no, not really.
Do you know what really is distracting, though? having to keep your favourite people a secret. all day every day. The anxiety of being discovered gnaws at your very existence. Deleted chats, deleted phone logs, deleted feelings. suppressing your emotions long enough to brainwash myself into thinking I don't care about him anymore. and YOU think I'm acting differently these days?

3. " it's not part of our culture."
since when did love become a foreign commodity? we are but robots with our hearts switched off till the age of 20. And when a trail of incomplete relationships shadows us everywhere, we're left fending for ourselves. Just cos no one taught us to love others right.

the last time you kissed me
you had a throat allergy
(I caught it)
It pains each time I swallow
and so I can say for sure
every breath I take
whispers your name to me

your love was like the
new moon (you swore it was there
but i couldn’t  feel it)

found a guy who wont buy flowers
but is growing roses for me

If i had to write on this, he said

                                    "I'd write it about you."

writing your name with my own hands
in the 'Absent' column on the blackboard
chalk and tears; unpredictable fears
you're still not here.

and i will grow roses on my windowsill hoping you follow the butterflies back to me...//

I was your Venus when you were  my Sun,
Pulling me closer just to watch me burn.

Your fingers trace my skin
and I forget what
I was going to
say
next...

Once he told me
"loving you is like breathing
how can i stop?"

and now hes holding his breath.

Its just us against the World.

four fifty one deg-
ree Fahrenheit; your letters
burning on the stove

i was going to say i didn't need words to
understand that your heart was singing
that i could see you blush mildly,
your eyes lit up when i smiled.

then i remembered you couldn't hear me.

The reason so many children are born in November

2. Archies/ Hallmark marketing strategy.

3. A day that will never ever meet your expectations.

4. when love is in the air but you're ALWAYS ALWAYS breathing a different air.

5. The ultimate reason to buy yourself chocolates and throw a pity party

6. A day when single people will only see couples walking hand in hand; God's Magnum Opus hell of a psychology experiment.