For someone to say I don't know you could be pretty accurate
I don't know what you do in your spare time
I don't know a lot about your friends
Hell I don't even remember the name of your college
But what I do remember is how you like the colour peach
It's an absurd word
And an even more absurd colour choice if you ask me
I also know that you can't stand it when I have mehndi on my hands but you still give into kissing me
You say it smells horrible
And that it's stupid
But you still keep me in your arms even after complaining about it
So why am I not in your arms now when everything is relatively okay
Isn't this what we've been waiting for
Because we favour the sad songs over the happy ones
Our chemistry is fuelled by the complexity of our scenario
The day we lose it
Is the day we lose each other
Simplicity was never our forte

When I look at my sister
I see nothing but beauty
But when I look in the mirror
All I see is nothing but ugly

I'll never be more
Than what I am

I'll never be sure
Of what I see
I'll never like me

I feel so unattractive
I feel like my mirror
Is secretly laughing
And all my friends
Are secretly gasping
Wondering how
My mirror
Isn't already
Showing signs
Of cracking

i laugh and take a sip of air
the taste of my blood has a ting of iron
the snows starting to stain a passionate red, and so are my lips
i manage to get on my back, and make out the sky
its the only thing that isn't red
1,2
i reach for the park bench to my left and i ***** underneath it, twice
under my breathe i whisper “keep pushing” to the patch of grass beside me
i admire its determination through a rough winter, i think i hear it say “hold in there”
3,4
to my left i see black, but its a blue kind of black, a nice change from accustomed red
i soon make out the figure, i look up at the sky again, i don't want to be seen like this
then their feet quicken, and i manage to calm my breathing as the steam from their mouth escapes them, glistening in the air
5,6
i repeat the words “keep pushing” in my head, as stable arms take my weight
over his shoulder i see the patch of grass, i wave goodbye, ill see you again soon old friend
he smells like sugar, i whisper to him “im sorry”, his shirt used to be white
7,8
i tighten his neck and manage to gain sight of the distance
i close my eyes for only a second and wake up in my bed, new sheets
i whisper hello, but get no reply, probably for the best, i wouldn't want to wake my parents
9, 10
i wake up around 6am to the sound of gusting wind, goodbye friend i think to myself
beside me i find a glass of water and a single advil, i reach to grab the water, and a note falls out
it reads: “this is the last time laura”
i laugh and take a sip of water.

Confessions

I confess.
Things are not always as they seem.

I tried setting traps,
I tried pretending,
I tried hiding.

But you stood your ground.
Followed my every move,
Matched every step I took.
I sensed your power and tested my
Theories.

So I played the game.
I pulled all my old tricks
Tried all my moves,
Threw everything I could at you,
Trying to catch you off guard.

Yet, no matter what I did,
You played better.

So now I confess:
From the very beginning,
You had me beat.

You forced open my pages and stole my secrets without even touching me.
You beat me at my own game.
The first and only worthy opponent to taste victory.
But now, it's my turn.

I sensed that power turn into fear and uncertainty.
You flinched at my touch and closed your eyes tightly as I reached for you.

I confess:
I know that face, I know that pain.
It's still the Same game, just different levels.
Dealing with the same hell, just different devils.

So show me your bruises, I know everyone wears them.
Wanting revenge, I bombarded your silent world with prying questions, demanding answers.

With your walls up and guns out,
You shut down.
I have you surrounded,
But you defend every attempt
And always seem to come out on top.
You have done this before.

So I confess: I have too.

I sit and I wait,
Knowing that at some point you will start to go hungry.
But, I know you will wait till you are starving to even think of putting your guns away.

Until then,
Here I wait.

Different isn't it?
You have no idea.
Just you wait.

There is something intrinsically enchanting about traveling—
Meeting small destinies,
Feeling the flow of life sweep you along—
It’s not all about running away,
Or where you end up,
Or how fast you go—
Rather, it’s about the actual act of
Moving Forward.
You sit in the car, or on the plane, or in the back of someone’s pickup, and you can see the landscape undergo its natural metamorphosis again and again
Into unique multifaceted checkpoints down the list of
Things To Experience:
People to laugh with,
Hands to hold,
Memories to make…
I look out into the alternating horizon and see
‘Opportunity’ spelled out in the clouds.
I look out and can see all the reasons why I should just
Take to the wind,
Flit and float across vast spaces of life—
Set free my spirit of all societal burden for the sake of introspective sentience and honest self-discovery—
I get the appeal;
I have tasted from the goblet that decadent ambrosia,
That flavor by which coats and balms my self-criticizing soul—
Soothing away all the hack marks,
The pocks and nicks and dents that blemish and tarnish the delicate skin protecting my psyche—
I am healed by travel,
By taking life seriously as that journey by which to merely ‘enjoy the ride’,
By making a literal journey out of life,
(Via journeying.)
Ah, even as I drive onward,
Even as I am propelled ever forward along the Devil’s Backbone, and Montezuma’s Castle, chasing the setting sun,
I am already thirsting for more

Waiting, ever waiting
The young wait for their life to begin
Until they get old and wait to die

Waiting, ever waiting
Watch the bus pulling away,
And count the seconds as they run away towards infinity
Watch the clock pick your pocket like a vulture picks a corpse
Waste your time dreaming
Waste yourself drinking
Live your life a slave to a screen and a victim to the clock

Waiting, ever waiting
Wait your days away, and tell yourself the time will come
Watch the time come and go, through the ever revolving door
Someday, tomorrow, in a week, fooling yourself with broken promises
Until one day the hospital heart monitor delivers your final deadline

Time’s up.