Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Feb 2022 Tsunami
dani
I crave intimacy
Not the type that subconsciously comes to mind -
The connection
Between one soul,
To another  
Bleeding pure, genuine
Devotion.
I crave fidelity
An enduring exchange
I don't want to be physically touched;
I want to feel my internal organs
Spark.
I want to embrace it  
Savoring every moment
Whatever pronoun relates to you
Tsunami Feb 2022
I was the anomaly.

the reason she couldn’t have
a white picket fence,
two kids with straight a’s,
a loving husband.

I was the reason
life kept going to ****.
Tsunami Jan 2022
really hot days
remind me of my home

the one across the sea
with mangos ripe on the vine
and yellowed grass

if I close my eyes,
i can almost taste the dust in the air
feel the warm embrace of my family members
that i miss so dearly
smell the petrichor off the hot cement floor after a fresh monsoon rain

time zones apart feel like worlds apart
and they are
when your family is dying
and there is no way to comfort your aunt
because her husband is taking his last breaths

there was no chance for her to say goodbye
to her father, to her husband,
both lay in hospitals
continents apart
isolated, but not unloved
both gone, not even a month apart

the borders have been closed for i don’t even know how long
there is no physical way for us, let alone her own children, to be present
all we do is wait

most of my memories are spent on
drinking chai on the veranda
or dancing in the rain with Papa
playing holi with pails of water mixed with “gulal” and water pistols.
seeing the smiles of all my family members,
together once again.

really hot days
remind me of my home
smoke from the wildfires mimics the smog in the air
the sun - a red ball in the grey sky
if i shut my eyes real tight
i can still get a glimpse of us on the rooftop, celebrating life.
i miss home -
  Dec 2021 Tsunami
Persephone
Their names still burn your throat with the same fire that lit their pyres 3000 years ago.
And yet you still have the audacity to call them dead?
Tsunami Jun 2021
You can not wish someone into existence.
You can not hope or pray or cry
someone into something they are not.
You can not sit there and wait for eternity,
For a glimpse,
Even just a glimmer,
Of who they used to be.

Before their demons capsized them.
The life raft splintered.
They floundered (alone)
Sunk to the bottom of their desires.

You can not scream or shout or talk someone into change.
To put down
the bottle, the needle, the blade,
You can not force someone into abstinence.
You can not beg for sobriety.

All you can do is;
Pack you bags,
Change your number
Get on a plane,
Let your mom and dad know your safe,
and
Run.
Tsunami Jan 2021
One
He has constellations on his back
A galaxy of freckles and moles.
They map out our journey,
Star-crossed lovers forever.

He talks about the night sky.
Black holes and satellites and Jupiter’s various moons.
Awe glows on his face
His eyes dance.

Stardust covers every inch of him.
He speaks in theoretics and “what if’s”
A nebula waiting -

He does not realize,
He is the universe
The universe is him.
finally something not about you eh? Took me long enough
Tsunami Nov 2020
When I talk about you
People always say to me
“At least he wasn’t the one that got away”

But you are.
Next page