Sometimes I like
to dress up my tears in black
place them on the runway
and wait to be cheered for...

Maybe I'm a fashion designer by heart...

Not even the rain
could stop you from brightening
up this dreary day

6:37 PM
26/7/20

pin-pricked, the deep drip
spelled cacophony,
mired in chaos.
the human brand
of serially unkind
contradictions.
relatable

and distant.
far too nebulous
to satisfy your craving
after a long day of wanting.
those words silk-spilled
into some odd pile,
creation adjacent to intent,
and skewed from some cliff
hoping for release.

It's a birthright, not a dream:
the rising sun is mine to chase.
I grow upwards, each newborn cell rejoicing,
petals outstretched to scale the clouds
and I do not know where I'll go afterwards --
only that it'll sink into my touch
like an animal seeking affection
and I will say THANK GOD
I didn't shrink like a violet at the burn of judging eyes
when my soil-buried roots hadn't yet much to offer
or deem myself good as wilted and cut my growth off at the stem
(the call is not mine to make)
or declare the fruits of my labour would be poisonous
so time, effort, water are wasted acts of love;
how easy it is to give up
so as not to face the prospect of a hungry autumn
or feel my promises break in my clumsy grip.

We owe it to ourselves to wait and grow
for we may never reap what we don't sow.

soaring high up in the sky
he lets out a joyful cry
he has his wings spread out wide
and has his heart filled up with pride

The sunbeams down at him
while he dives on a whim.
As a smile plays upon its lips,
The sun tightens its scalding grip

'Icarus is flying too high' they sigh
as he lets another joyful cry
'but I won't make the same mistakes' he thinks
as he flies closer to the brink.

Standing tall on the highest mountain
surrounded by clouds and the most beautiful fountains.
Against all odds, the tree grew on the toughest rock
up in the sky with the highest-flying hawk.

The cherry blossom reached for the sky.
The cherry blossom wanted to fly
to see the world from up high
to see that last as it dies.

The cherry blossom reached its goal
but all too soon it lost control.
it wanted to see it all
even if it meant it'll fall

The cherry blossom reached and reached
while its trunk screeched and people preached
"trees aren't flexible," they cried
yet still, the cherry blossom tried

the cherry blossom soon adapted
for it never ever got distracted
its trunk had bent and curled
and soon it could see the world.

Dark is to light, as black to white.
When we write, from what place?

I wrote,
dwelling there,
amongst the shadows,
without face; leeching for love,
my cup empty,
heart scattered into pieces.

I write,
divinely guided;
exploring unclimbed mountains,
where weakness and courage elope,
advancing towards freedom,
My cup fills,
healing below the glimmers of hope.

I accept,
my world of black,
as it mends into white,
for I know, what is in the dark,
is to rise to meet light.

the truth chained itself and,
grimacing, he followed.
each star he eyed blew past,
one by one, and perched
themselves within him.
he picked, prodded, pleaded,
sleep smudging the night's corpse,
and optimism left him.

bit by bit, he read her heart
and lost it in translation.
her energy was effervescent,
and warm. inconsistent.
--
her energy was eclectic-- fierce,
and her words: silken, undisturbed
--
he lost himself in her songs,
the playlists of past hurts, wants, haves-
and happiness. rhapsodic
--
pain is a telegraph,
a tactile sensation that sounds off,
telling stories of past mistakes.

Just like
fractured hearts,
light must be fractured
to make a
rainbow.