I have played this game before.
My accolades adorn the walls.
This pull-push dance is tiring.

This time,
when I see myself
being pulled into the whirlpool—
I let it.

Drown me, baby.
Show me how love works.

I’ll wait for the little things:
the stolen glances,
the awkward silence.

I hope you are the other end,
your arms stretched out.
I want to run to you
and tell our daughter:

This is what love is.

I will tell her—
someday, a man will come.
And when you set out
to write about sorrow,
you will smile,
thinking of his warmth.

Trees - miles of gold on a cold autumn day
Outline
The meadow
Tracing leaf-like patterns on the pale grass

Flowers sit at the foot of chinar
Looking to the sun
Peering from the cloudless sky
Upon those sleepy petals

Soon the trees
Will shed their cracked, brittle leaves
To make way
For such a pleasant scene, yet again

Some mornings still feel like you,
like warmth I didn’t deserve but couldn’t let go.
Memories somewhere behind the silence.
Like a thread I never untangled.

Some nights, I wake up
and it’s like you just left the room.
Like your laugh is still hanging in the air
and my chest forgets it’s empty.
I dream of rooms you still live in.
I don’t see your face
but I wake up full of you,
like love left its light on.

Some silences still hum with what we never said.
And sometimes I still feel the ghost of your hand in mine.

In some timeline,
I said what I meant before it was too late.
I showed up. I stayed.
I fought for you the way you deserved. And you never have to wonder if I still love you.

Some part of me still waits
not here, not now,
but somewhere
our love still lives.

That twists and turns
Becomes one
With a river
Learns to pick up the pace
Yet carry the weight
Of rocks in its bed
While reaching for the horizon
The stream becomes
Indistinguishable
From the destination - the calm sea

She curled up her fingers
In mine
Read my mind
My heart screamed