#emotionalattachment
Everything is too
sugar-spine, salt-lipped,
staticstitched and jitterglow.
I can’t sit still
without turning into
a girl-shaped emergency.
I keep my synonyms in jars—
one for ache,
one for almost,
one for the word I made up
that means I miss you so much I become a faucet.
Language is a loose tooth.
I tongue it until it bleeds metaphor.
Call it poetry.
Call it coping.
Call it anything but what it is:
me, peeling the world into vowels
because I’m scared if I say what I mean,
you’ll hear it.
And then what?
You’ll answer?
You’ll echo?
You’ll send a voice memo
saying same
and I’ll combust on the Q train
like a well-read matchbook?
God, I am so
caption-core,
pun-drunk,
rhyme-accident-prone.
I named my stomach pit afterthought.
I named my wrists reminder.
And I named you
don’t.
But I still say it
every time I open my mouth
to speak.
Apr 6, 2025
Apr 6, 2025 at 9:30 AM UTC
Welcome !!
This is your house,
A door little tall,
The pet mittle spouse.
See ,
Those ten eyes ,
Lids some closed
The view is suffice,
Clatter of wood ,
Thud due wind,
And curtains fright.
Please make your way inside !!
This is the home in which you reside ,
This is where ,
you slept a myriad of nights.
Yes , this is the veranda of
Your childhood sunbaths,
Memory of joy,
Playing hard as mad .
Ooo,
It's your room,
Look at those doodles
On the walls,
Sketches of sun and crows
Signing your name ,
Across.
It's the TV you saw growing,
The fridge which colour's been fading
The bathroom's door which been
Cranking ,
(Joyful laugh)
Come beside,
Let's go on the roof ,
Take a breath
Let's move in a loop,
Sip of fresh air
Then make a move.
Reminisce the sunset ,
& The glare of moon ,
The panorama of lush green
silvered by lune.
This is your home
Not just a brick or stone ,
You spent your life here
Not just a shade of mere ,
This is a sweater of
Wool of will
The sweater that
has to be worn even
It's summer ,
It is an antique which
Only you can weave ,
So tell me ,
Why do you want to leave ?
Mar 12, 2025
Mar 12, 2025 at 3:17 PM UTC