tell me to walk right ahead,
and say you'll be right there to take care of me
through all the messy parts of changing and
maybe for a while,
we could grow a little bit older together
unfit lovers that we are,
until my body gets weirder and bolder and
more beautiful than I could've predicted.
and you could fall for me then,
be a little selfish too,
ask me to wait while you're the one walking,
or to follow when the change is in you,
and i would,
i would.

All a poor child has is eye level
There is no understanding that anything existing above
WE are not allowed to see Heaven
Just told IT exists , like its pleasure really existed
I would Pray not to Pray
But to take the beauty of life by both hands and pretend this is the superficial Heaven

The joyous pink color keeps yearning to get along with the yellow light. It keeps defying the blackness that gets in the way but sadly fails.

But this time, the blackness gave up its interest in front of the pink light. The pink in me also got lucky and rejoiced with the dancing yellow light.

Yes, this time, the pink in me was able to defend itself from the blackness and won.

Later on, the blackness yearned for the shade of pink. The pink, as usual, kept yearning to mingle with the yellow light and rejoiced while dancing with the yellow color.

©shivpoetesspriya

i can never love you the way i claim — delicately and without violence. i remember hating flowers and broken seashells, and my grandmother, hand-sewing pastel dresses. deep down, my bones are raised on stories of ancient wars and biblical battles carried from memory to memory, a string of generational blunders — i am made of my father's bitterness and my mother's denial. so i will love you with corruptions and apologies, with bled-out  veins, giving in like an emptied river, with all the poems i have read and forgotten, and with everything that makes me finitely human.