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Ananya Jul 28
The smell of
Musty old books
With dried rose
The day before
Crisp white
Shirts and formal
Something new.
The rollercoaster
Reaching the top
And pausing for a
Your dad smiling
at your mom when
She's not
Lying down and
Feeling your back
Crunch with
Tiredness after a
Productive day.
White lilies.
Making out in alleys.
The smell of petrol
And nail polish.
And you.
Ananya Jul 11
It's two blue ticks mocking,
With a Lucifer smile.
An "I don't know know"
To a "what are we"
Feel it, touch it,
More real than
The blood oozing out.
Holding your own hand,
For warmth in the night
Crying moonbeams.
Estranged self and the
Spaceships are empty
Cardboard boxes again.
Not darkness.
It's the absence of somebody
To share your light with.
It's words. without souls.
And people. Without meaning.
It's "nothing
It's a "let it be."
Ananya Jul 11
Which language does
God speak in?
Does he speak in
tongues of madness
which incite stampedes?
granting infinite miseries
to the souls of atheists?

Is hell where blood traitors
And dishonoured daughters go?
The wretched, the cowardly,
in his name unwilling to ****?
Those ungrateful and offensive
Who returned their breaths
back to him?
The blasphemous, the questioners,
The ones who refused to Unsee?

I'm asking so that when I'm gone
you'll know where to find me.
Ananya Jul 11
Paternal mountains holding
knees as I a brook
laugh and gurgle
without stopping.

Crown sliding
off tousled hair
I cry at broken
dolls that make me sad

and get presents
smelling faintly of
sticky, warm Azaleas.
I groan.

I moan as I tear small ivory chunks with sickening thuds,
l grasp the pulsating pulp.
With lower lashes, I offer

to the ravenous fire that consumes in its unquenchable desire that destroys and laughs, that baits me to bark.

Ah! Look at the night
dressed up like a *****.
No is three letters, yes is two.

Every man a tattoo artist branding his initials for free.
Tell me, does purple look striking against melanin attire?

I get paper cuts
from words slicing off penetrating tongues
and I scream, muffled inside a dream.

Groping at flecks of sandy sunshine, waiting to be
One of my personal favorites :)
Ananya Jul 11
The absolutely radical,
Mind boggling idea of being accepted.
-A fantasy served with insecurity
On the side, stained
With the lipstick you only wear
On third dates, the idea of
what love "should feel like"
Bubbling below the skin
Until you get blisters and boils,
sick and heady but starry eyed.
Ignoring the naysayers,
Oh so what if sleeping beauty
Gets roofied here.
The potential to get shattered,
Identity mutilated beyond recognition
Is, after all, a small price to pay
If you finally get to.. Belong.

— The End —