Mornings licked amber—
wet, bright—
papaya pulp split in the grass,
rain still steaming off rooftops.

they came—
sway-backed, jewel-eyed—
weaving cobalt ribbons through the cricket fields,
feathers slick as oil spills.

I waited—
barefoot, rice pinched in small fingers—
not offering—inviting.

they took—
beaks sharp,
eyes glinting like they carried whole summers behind them—
but they never left.

even when the rains came—
hard and urgent—
they stayed, hips swaying under silver sheets,
tails dragging through warm mud.

I thought they danced for me—
as if the whole monsoon belonged only to the girl watching— silent, secret-spined—
hair curling at the nape—
too small to touch,
too quiet to call them by name—
but they saw me.

I know they did.

they crowned me in silence—
Princess of Puddles,
Keeper of Small Hungers.

somewhere between the serpent hunts,
the rain-slick pirouettes—
I learned how beauty moves—
how it takes without asking,
how it lives without needing to be seen.

they were never mine—
but I belonged to them—
to the fevered mornings,
to the blue-green shimmer folded beneath heavy air,
to the secret language only wild things speak—

something wordless—
something that never leaves you.

Loving the abstract you

Now that you in flesh are
No longer here

(Many years,
So long)

Your hair unplugs the bathroom

Harsh words
Entail no tears

Your beauty lingers
Burned under my eyelids
And your perspicacity
Shields my fear

You carry words
In your belly-
Pregnant meaning

I read in awe
Raw emotion
Direct communication..

Avoid spilling
Into oblivion

Your beauty
Lights the world
Courage inspiration

Sometimes you think that you want to disappear, but all you really want is to be found.

Dear seven year old,
Yes, there is a monster
But it’s not under your bed

The monster is in your head
But maybe it’s not even a monster
Maybe it’s just buried pain
Because they told you not to cry

Dear seven year old,
Yes, you should keep crying
Otherwise the tears will build up and flood your insides

The tears do not care for being stuck
They need to be released
Into the stars

Dear seven year old,
Yes, your plea for better times are being heard by the stars
They always will
Keep wishing on them

Wish on 11:11 too
Because to wish is to know what you want
And knowing what you want
Telling it
Makes it so much more likely to happen

Dear seven year old,
Yes, you still feel like the kid sitting under the slide and just observing life
And you’ve come to appreciate it

Observing, looking, watching
Make all the difference
Almost as much as writing

Dear seven year old,
Write.

Mortality is a beautiful thing,
This one life we've got,
This one chance to live it big.

I am getting old and my back creaks,
But I refuse to slow my pace,
With a mischievous grin, I embrace the years,
Living life with a touch of grace.

I dance in the rain, I sing out loud,
I wear bright colours, I stand out in a crowd,
I laugh at the rules, I break the mould,
Forgetting the notion of growing old.

Wrinkles are badges of adventures had,
Each grey hair a tale of fun,
I chase my dreams with reckless abandon,
Under the golden sun.

I climb the mountains, I sail the seas,
I savour each moment, I do as I please,
For life is too short to play it safe,
I live with passion; I live with faith.

I make new friends, I cherish the old,
I share my stories, both brave and bold,
I dance through life with a youthful heart,
Aging disgracefully, a work of art.

So let my back creak, let my hair turn grey,
I'll live each moment, come what may,
For in this journey, wild and free,
Aging disgracefully is the way to be.

just a random girl
that walks around this school
her clothes are baggy
I wonder if she hates her body?
she smokes
and drinks
I wonder what she's trying to forget?
Her eye makeup
almost as dark as my own
her hair even darker
I wonder if her demons
are as dark as her makeup?
her backpack straps slung low
her pockets always full
I wonder what secrets she keeps?
Her eyes, big and thoughtful
Like they contain millions of unsaid words
I wonder what she would say?
If not always silenced
I wonder about her
like maybe she's just like me