You told me you were trying.
I told you about the time
I threw up so hard I started praying.
I saw stars in my hair
and thought they might be angels.
But it was just the acid.
Just the light.
Just me, alone again
in a bathroom that never loved me back.

You didn’t say anything,
and that said everything.
You texted “sorry”
like a magician pulling shame from his sleeve,
then disappeared
like a good lie.
I stopped asking you
to prove yourself after that.
I just started watching
to see if you ever would.

Maybe I made the whole thing up.
Maybe you did say something.
Maybe it was kind.
Maybe it was cruel.

Maybe the light flickered
because of bad wiring,
not heaven.
Maybe I was just sick.
Maybe you were just tired.
Maybe none of it meant anything.

But then why
do I still dream in that fluorescent color?
Why does the silence still have your shape?
I built a chapel from our last conversation.
Tried to make the ache holy.
But I was the only one kneeling.
And no one wants a martyr
who won’t shut up.

You said I was unwell.
I said, Amen.
You said I was always bleeding.
I said, Isn’t that what makes it a miracle?
Because if this isn’t a resurrection,
then I’ve been dying for nothing.

I gave you the ugliest parts-
even the bathroom prayers,
even the version of me
that asked God to make you gentler.
You said, “I didn’t ask for that.”
I said, “Exactly.”

You weren’t the end of the world.
You were just the earthquake
I canonized.
The tremor I learned to waltz with.
The reason my mouth still tastes like salt
and I call it grace.

So if God ever comes back,
I’ll know how to greet him:
on my knees,
already emptied.

I told the stars to shut up.
They weren’t witnesses. They were worse.
They kept spelling your name,
blinking slow, like pity,
glinting gallant-
like that ever saved anyone.

I walked past the summer we called ours
like I wasn’t still stalking it.
Like I didn’t prowl on purpose,
like I didn’t rehearse your alibi,
like I didn’t pray
(for prey.)

I was fine with the trees, the oil stains,
the way the sun pretended nothing happened.
I could go days without hearing an ice cream truck,
or seeing a sun-burnt stranger
and thinking: maybe the universe
rerouted you into someone
I could almost survive.

You once said I was dangerous.
And by once I mean
I wrote it down
and heard it forever.
It’s in my lymph nodes,
in the poems you pretend not to read.
It’s in the version of me
you kept almost loving
but never quite chose.

You called us perilous.
Or maybe I did.
It’s hard to tell, since
I’ve been writing you
with your mouth shut
for months.

I keep checking the margins
for your voice.
All I got were
the noises people make
when they’re trying not to drown,
but pretending to wave.

Why is your name still more siren
than sentence?
Still more blood than bruise?
I made your absence
a body I slept beside,
because I kept waking up
guilty.

I never served,
but I wrote the ending.
Put my hand on a Bible,
bit my tongue so hard
the truth still tastes like you.
Wore borrowed pearls,
and swore to God
I never loved you more
than the day you didn’t show up.

I would’ve done time for you.
I would’ve confessed to a crime
that didn’t exist
just to hold your hand once
on the courthouse steps.

You said I was dangerous.
You were right.
But not in the way you thought.
I told the whole truth-
just not out loud.

You didn’t get convicted.
But I still can’t go back
to that summer
without thinking the tan lines
were warning signs,
without getting subpoenaed
by the sky.

Some nights,
your name still tries to get in
like a burglar.
I play dead,
tell the stars to shut up.
But they unlock the window anyway.
They spell you out in light
like they want me to remember
how it felt
to be the crime scene.

The kitchen smells like a secret I forgot to bury.
A peach gone soft, skin splitting like a bad promise.
The fruit flies know something I don’t;
they’re the last priests of a dying faith,
and they’re waiting for me to leak.

I tell myself I’m healing,
but last night I dreamt I had to eat your heart to survive.
It tasted like burnt sugar and nail polish remover.
I woke up gasping,
your name soldered to the roof of my mouth
like a curse I didn’t mean to cast.

I call it the trick of wanting:
how I keep looking for your fingerprints in places you never touched,
how I flinch when someone says my name in the dark,
how I let the mirror watch me shatter
and pretend I’m a stained glass window.

Here’s the part I shouldn’t post:
I liked it when you lied to me.
I liked it when you said this isn’t about love
and I let you mean it’s about power.

The fruit flies keep coming.
I pretend they’re a sign from God.
I pretend they’re angels. Or demons.
Never both.
I pretend they’re a reminder that sweetness
is just another word for rot.
I pretend the buzzing is the sound of my name-
fermenting in your guts,
putrefying in your chest,
decomposing in your memory like abandoned fruit.

I know I shouldn’t write this.
But I do.
Because I want you to see it.
Because I want you to flinch.

Because I want you to know:
I am the girl who would eat your heart if I could.
I would peel it open with my teeth,
lick the blood off my lips,
smile like a god in a red dress,
and call it love.

And you’d believe me.

I meant to confess
but the pencil cramped my hand
and I figured heartbreak
was already too messy
without my bad handwriting.

you spoke with your back turned
like nothing was wrong
the kettle sat screaming
its blistering song

your eyes crack with thunder
I don’t look away.
I taste every stormcloud
and swallow the rain

you asked if I loved you
then smirked at the floor
i said it too slowly—
you moved for the door

we fought in the hallway
with breath and with teeth
your moan was a trigger
my ache, underneath

you find every fracture
then press where it stings
You say, “it’s devotion,”
and tighten the strings

we crash into rhythm
too wild to be right
but god, we were holy
in sin and in spite

your hands know the bruises
you’d left there before
you kissed every wound
then begged me for more

but still, when you’re shaking,
and all fury’s gone—
I gather your pieces
and whisper a song

I stitched up the silence
you gave me to keep
and rocked us together
til sorrow found sleep

We curled in the ash
what didn’t survive,
and found even ruin
leaves something alive.

i've heard of leaving pieces of your soul
at places, with people, in memories and in hopes
and i think i did leave a quiet few of my own.
just a day ago, i left a few pieces of my soul
up there, when we began the trip—
went to a place that resembled a heavenly dip.

i wasn't alone, with two certain someones i'd grown
to like, in a while—
and no, let's just keep it romanticized.
we'd walked throughout the destination,
it wasn't our final,
and i'm sure they'd see through the above line
to find the name of the movie we'd watched together.

the walk, the talk, the silence, the show—
entirety of it, i just wondered one thing:
will i forget this,
or will it be engraved
by the time it's night and i move to a  new tomorrow?

the car rides,
to the movies,
the desi rickshaw and the tell-tale sign of a bonding—
i don't know if we're close enough.
surely they are—i admire them so.
didn't get it filmed for way too many reasons,
but i wish i'd done them both:
recorded the way they were,
just existing, unknown to the storm here within.

while one thought, the other said.
while one fumbled, the other bled—
out words and emotions,
way too direct
for someone like me,
who chokes on a mere breath.

if it were possible to engrave it to their souls,
tell them how till the end—
i only hoped.

we'd eaten,
and it didn’t feel the way it does with people
i'm new with.
i wonder if they felt it too.
it was more than just fun or something worth remembering.
so much more.

and that thunderstorm—
the way the dust carried through the winds,
and then i saw the sky burst
into a million little streams of light and of thunder.

the rain fell, and it lingered—
the feeling to cherish,
to live,
to breathe,
and to exist—
in that very moment.
to open my heart
and pour out all the blood it carried,
to open up and let the world consume—
as i lay down and relished
all that took place around me:
their voices,
their laughter,
the dreams i had
once i was in a disaster.

i've only wanted to perish away before,
to hide,
to be thrown in a current so deep,
i need not float anymore.

and yet, somehow i found
something akin to glitter
underneath my skin—
as we dashed through the wet steps of the temple,
barefoot,
each pair of eyes shadowing a glimmer.

and as i wished in front of all the lords,
"i do not know how to do this—
i haven’t trusted you enough in a while,
but i'll just ask,
like the greedy little thing i am—
keep the ones around me happy and safe,
and i shall accept you,
and want for you again."

and i had tears gathering in my eyes.
for a second, i thought i'd cry.
"please don't make me speak."
but they did.
and the tears got replaced by a smile.

i've smiled a lot,
in their company.
i don't know—
all the way back,
a smile that seemed to last.

and we settled outside the temple,
sitting,
breathing in—
i watched them.
watched the way their eyes swam,
watched the way the sky held
all those streaks resembling the roots of a tree.
and i realized,
my roots now went too deep—
and i couldn't move,
couldn't speak.
wanted to say so much,
but i held it all within me.

there was a lot that i felt in the moment.
as the wind grazed my skin,
felt its caress leave a warmth at my feet—
"oh, but i love you so."

too protected to be seen as vulnerable,
couldn't hold it as well as i usually handled—
it must have shown,
the silence that i got on.

we walked through a route,
a secret garden
resembling the world of nowhere—
and for the first time that night,
i didn’t want it to end.

we talked,
i heard mostly—
all i had to share was how disintegrated i was.
(please hold me.)
didn't say a word along those lines.
the newly found hope had me positive,
and i let it cover me whole.

forgot to test out the theory
of whether "do shadows turn darker when they overlap?"
a line from a favourite movie.
oh, it was a perfect day.
how i wish i had more of that.

sitting, breathing in the moment,
walking beside,
behind,
in between—
i loved all that.

i don't think i'll persist in their memory
(lord, i wish i do).
for they're stuck in mine,
and i can't seem to move on.

and yeah, this is kind of a confession,
but no, it isn't that of love.
i barely know what love is,
but i want to,
just because.

heard this man say,
"you live only for four days—"
the fifth, he asked from beside.
i looked at him,
and then at the one who was in front of me.
didn’t see his expression,
but i know he'd gotten hit too.

"the fifth is for the lord.
the world loves you,
and there's nothing that you can grip onto."

but how do i accept it,
when it's all i've been searching?
in the middle of an ocean,
i didn’t even realize i was floating.

the chains seemed heavy,
pulling down in that second—
yet i didn't let go of that invisible string.
let the man say,
"there's nothing from people.
you come, and you leave.
if you've got money,
they talk and they preach."

what of hope?
and what if trusting you is my choice—
keeping it is yours?
what of love,
and what of bonds?
i’ll take those to my grave.

please keep away the suffering of the world,
and i'll rest indefinitely,
despite what's at stake.

the car ride back was enlightening—
it was so dark,
the air conditioning turned off.
i sat in the front,
listening to music they played from the back.
heard them laugh,
smiled to myself.

looked out the window
and hoped perhaps the wind would carry me now.
i felt so light,
so heavy at the same time—
the irony,
the metaphor i can't admit.
i like being tangled in words.

second time,
i didn’t want it to end.
and he said so,
and i know the thought so.

from listening to music that spoke
more than the tunes did,
i looked all around,
taking the beauty of destruction after the storm—
and hoping perhaps that they will too.

could we enter a time loop
and have the day play out on repeat
for the rest of my life
and forever, if more?

near to my place, i got out.
missed out their words yet again.
wanted to say,
"love you, take care—see you both—let's do this again."
said,
"enjoy, don't die, good night and sweet dreams" yet again.

and i walked the length back to my apartment.
saw the dark—
it felt like comfort,
reminding me this was my place
in the world.

it's my pov,
the third person in the room
floating somewhere,
watching it all take place in a loop.

i didn't want the night to end.
but it did.

and so here i am,
sitting the next day with tears in my eyes,
holding this newly found attachment
to life and a certain few—
about whom i ain't so certain
whether they'll hold in the long run.

but here i am once again,
hoping there'd be a repeat.

because i did comment to his,
"what if this is the last time like this?"
and i said,
"the next one will be better then."
can’t say i believed in it much myself,
but i'll keep hoping—

because hope and love can't be killed.
love comes easier than hate.
the former, we're born with;
the second is fed.

hope comes from love,
and i just love to hope
and hope to love.
so i hope you do too—

something better,
something in the future,
something—
even just once more.

maybe it'll be a repeat of the day yesterday,
or even a better one
to remember the day after.


i couldn't bleed out to death
to prove the amount of laughter
i've carried etched in my skin.
i've got it crawling up my shins,
couldn't admit till the very end—
i left a piece of my soul,
perhaps a few more.
up there, everywhere,
all all the places i'd gone to.
but especially,
the highlights of it all—
with them,
both.

i didn't really want the night to end,
at least, it seems so after all.

At mercy's feet a coward came
Revoke the spell that brand me shame
Immortal cloak, With cold embrace
Preserve this soul unlinked from grace

Confess thy struggles says the thought
A thousand deeds undo no drought
To wash thy guilt complete with haste
Anoint with almond, pray no waste

(Urge)
A past repeat, if time recall
Invoking every shameful fall
Controlled by lust, my handy deeds
deny this groin, its pleasure needs

(Thought)
Your reckon day, awaits its fate
To settle heaven's pass at gate
by night, an hour of death will prey
it's waste of time to weep and pray

Everyone thinks I’m an idiot.
Even me.

My friends think I’m funny
but not smart,
not sharp.

I got a certificate to belay while rock climbing
just so I could be like my friends,
but Ryan wouldn’t let me belay him.

Claire thinks I’m not good enough
to teach others how to climb.

Mira told me,
“you’re the last person I thought would know the answer,”
while we were studying for a final.

I felt unsteady afterward,
like I was winded.

My mood sank fast.
There was a pressure in my abdomen -
like I had to take a ****
but I was holding it in.

And on the same note,
I wanted to run
away,
out of sight,
so I could **** in peace.

But instead,
I laughed it off
and smoked cigarettes on the porch
when I got home
because I’m too stupid
to read the label.

I am convinced by my own actions, too
although I can’t decide
if it’s my forgetful brain
or just my personality:
aloof,
head in the clouds.

I remember walking through the halls of high school,
friends passing by, trying to get my attention
but I was staring at the ceiling again,
at the scattered marks, how they had no pattern,
and how that somehow made me uncomfortable.

Either way,
the stupidity sticks.

I wore apathy like armor
but cracked every time you looked at me
like I was worth being seen.

Even now I blamed timing.
As if clocks are crueler than my own hesitation.
As if love didn’t stand right in front of me
and wait with open hands
as mine stayed tucked in pockets.

I convinced myself I was unworthy
before anyone else had the chance to.
I set fire to every almost
just to say “see, it was never going to last”
like that made it less my fault.

Still, I write this like it matters—
like this confession changes anything.
But all it does
is remind me
that I had everything
and still chose nothing.

you, serendipity
i didn't expect you
but you're the best birthday gift i've received all year
and mind you, my birthday's a long time from now.

i didn't know you've waited
since middle school, for this to all work out
but i'm glad you did
so glad you did

we officially met...maybe a week ago when you confessed
so then why do you make me feel like the one having the crush?
so many things i won't understand
but so many things i hope we'll figure out together, levi.