I will draw
But there are no colours left to see.
I try to draw
But what is there for me?

I do not walk,
Yet still, I talk.
I try to speak,
But who will hear me when I’m weak?

I cry sometimes
But my face stays dry.
Tears fall inside my eyes,
But who replies?

I try to play,
But I’ve grown too tall
The toys I knew are far too small.
I play with walls
That never play at all.

I live,
But do I live a life?
I craft a lie
But who deserves my lie?

I burn my hands washing dishes at home.
Alone, it is lukewarm, cold at best --
So I will eat cake until I am sick.

A home?
A place where your mornings start with scoldings and nights end with arguments?
A place where you are unloved?
A place where you don’t even know what your siblings feel about you?
A place you are having heavy heartbeats and panics?
A place where you don’t feel like sharing anything?
A place where your existence doesn’t seem worthy?
A place where you can’t even cry peacefully?
A place where no one express what they feel?
Is this place called a home Maa?
Is it? Really?

Honey its been a while but i know you exist between heartbeats — not quite joy not quite grief, just the long inhale before either arrives.
you lived in a house where silence carved the hallways out of not being chosen so i know that you wear sound like an armour,
for when the room goes quiet the ghosts start speaking in full sentances and you are left with no language to bury them.
you answer messages in your head, smile at texts you never send and mourn connections like you've buried them with your own hands — even tho they are still alive
just not with you.
you wage a war between
reach out
and
stay safe.
between
i miss you
and
don't look at me.
you stand still.
mid-sentance
mid-dream
mid-you.




your house is a mess- your head is worse
wondering if this is healing or you are just getting really good at pretending so you bolt the doors
and you don't dare let anyone come in.
your mother used to say that the cruelest is the hour when you must beg the stars to remember your name — you'd then say
that the pain is a fruit, bitten too soon
and yet so sweet, so knowing.
because you know you must remember everything
and overcome it.
for if you don’t overcome it, you will always be the child whose soul never grew, the woman who kept apologizing for needing too little, and loving too much.

Long are overdue the deeds you owe to yourself.

-V

I promised to always love you

Not realizing I doomed myself 

Because I still love you so much

Even when you stopped loving me

I wasn't lonely at all, I too had friends before,
We would play, laugh, and have fun,
Get wet in summer from watergun,
And be sick for days calling each other one,
But time past and we said "goodbye",
Despite that "bye" wasn't fine,
I'd be sick for years not for days,
As I couldn't make friends any more,
Even though I made two or three,
They didn't seem to be fond of me,
They would go to parks and walk,
Gaming place where they would play,
Theatres where they could see the play,
Not asking me if could come along,
And thus, I now can open the door,
That I've been not alone before...

I don't hate you,
I could never hate you.
                                                 I envy you.

I envy the way you look so free,
the way you could be called confident,
in the clothes people would call me bold for.
The way your good at so many things,
that I lay in your shadow,
yearning for the spotlight.

I wish I could love you,
or even just like you,
but, I can't.
Because your beautiful,
your kind,
your loved,
                                                  your perfect.
While, I'm just....
well, me.

So, I'm sorry.
Just know,
I don't hate you,
I could never hate you.
But,
                                            I'll forever envy you.