two years
one month
and nine days ago,
i met a girl

this girl was,
in one word,
b u r n i n g

ardent,
but volatile,
she was a fusion of
cold skin and
blazing heart

the heat of her
drew me in
sending my soul of
brittle fingernails and
parched conversation

up in flames

Get out of my house

You have your own
Right next door
You have your own walls to decorate and your own furniture to arrange

Get out of my house

You’re starting to freak me out
How you come inside like you live here and sort through my jewellery and clothes
I don’t remember inviting you in

Get out of my house

I can barely recognize my own rooms after you’ve been here
What have you done?
Why are you here?

Get out of my house

You ******

She is a girl

She has two sisters, a dog
And a pair of worn-out headphones in her pocket

She is fifteen

She plays violin in the school orchestra
And sings duets in the sun

She is left-handed

She’s also pansexual
(Just thought you should know)

<><><>

She is a girl
(A different girl, mind you)

She has bright hair and dark eyes
And a sky of freckles spanning her body

She is a netball player

She listens to everything that’s said
And laughs at everything in response

She is an Aquarius

Her girlfriend is an Virgo
(Is this what they call diversity?)

<><><>

He is a boy

He is on the males’ baseball team
And recites prophetical speeches in the dugout

He is an early riser

He likes old-fashioned comedy movies
And his favourite colour is either orange or black

He is graduating next year

He’ll finally get to ask his school’s star pitcher to prom
(Finally is the right word)

<><><>

‘She’ is a boy
(A different boy, mind you)

‘She’ lives in the countryside
And travels 2 hours to campus each morning

‘She’ is a realist

‘She’ studies human relations
And has wanted to visit Rome since 'she' was eight

‘She’ is a part-time barista

‘She’ prefers the pronoun ‘he’
(No big deal if you forget though)

<><><>

They are people

They have people they love
And people who love them

They are people

They may have changed to you
And yet they haven’t changed to themselves

They are people
They are still people

<><><>

(Just thought you should know)

<><><>

Coffee cups and pet canaries
Dog-eared books, soft radio
Piles of pillows and cold kitchen tiles
It’s 6.59; ready, set-

Even when I’m mad at you I
Can’t be mad at you and that makes me
Even more mad at you and I
Hate you, hate
You, hate
You, love
You

We both know how this dance ends
But still we move hesitantly
Reservations weigh our limbs down
Because
You have confidence issues
And I am just the worst at dancing

The music is ridiculously loud
And by the end of each week
I swear I’m going deaf
(Seriously-
I think I can see our friends
Giving us side-glares)
(They can probably hear it too)

We dance around each other
And each time my eyes meet yours
Even though I’ve turned the dial as far as I thought it could go
The music gets just that bit louder

These steps seem so familiar
One to the left
And you move to the right
Now you step forward
And I leap back
(Trying my best not to trip too much along the way)
(But I always do)
(And you always notice)
(*******)

And that’s not the only thing you know

You and I both know that the music gets so loud
That I can’t even hear my heart beating when I’m around you
(Quite a feat, believe me)
And that your head would snap up at a single chord

And even though every memory of dancing that I have is a kick to my stomach
You were always the one to pick me up when I got winded
And even though you think you’re only on the fence between mediocre and satisfactory
I was the one in the crowd who cheered for you at every chance I got

Maybe I can’t dance
But you can
And with the music filling our ears
Maybe you can forget anyone else exists

And besides
We both know how this dance ends

.                                                            <<>>                                                          .
  ­          
        once upon a time,
                                                           ­                             there was a girl
                                                            ­                             as fair as snow
                                                            ­                                         .
                                                               ­                                      .
                                                               ­                                      .

                                                              ­                          and just as cold.

        she never spared even a frosty glance
                                       for anyone,
                                                         ­   
                                                           save one.


                          b u t
        rather than shining daylight on her life,
        rather than thawing her frigid heart,

        he was indifferent.

                                                   ­  not the sun, but
                                                     a mere passing

                                                        ­                                            ray.

.                                                          ­   <<>>                                                          .

I always thought that I couldn’t live without you
But I’m learning to cope
One faded picture
One matchstick
At a time

She sits there, fingers twitching erratically
Hands clasping, unclasping over each other

With the sunlight fracturing through rippled eyelids
I imagine I can almost see right into her eyes
Like paper soaked through with tears

But then she lowers her head
Shoulders sag from her weighted thoughts
Rays now falling to her ocean of hair

I wouldn't mind
But I can see the weariness she feels

She sits cross legged
But yet her back is weathered with unlived age
Her half smile barely reaches her lips
And her eyes

They're closed to contain the break lapping under her lashes
They're closed to trap the tears threatening to become lakes

They're closed and I don't mind
There's never a shortage of her to immerse myself in

Now it's her hands
Her hands are still moving
Wrinkles disturbing the still waters
Visions of waves promising to drag me down
To suffocate me among the depths of all I love of her

Trust me
I won't mind