you're my sunflower,
more so than her,
you bloom with beaming pride,
your petals reflect the tide,
your heart bright yellow,
dancing in the meadow.

-lilac

i find it funny
how often i speak of love
when i myself
don't quite know what it is
and don't quite know what the difference is
between romance
and romanticised.

In 2019,
I want more.

Want more sunrises
More rolling out of bed with a purpose

More afternoons curled in a love seat

I want a garden
inside me and in my backyard

More friends
More nuzzles from dogs

More oceans

More allowance to make mistakes
After all, you were brave enough to try.

More stillness
More belly laughs
More love letters

More sway in my hips
Cool breeze on my lips

More looking in the mirror to see my smile
not the width of my thighs

More finding shapes in the clouds

More moments that leave me breathless

More life
All the painfully messy beautifully chaotic morsels
dripping from my chin

In 2019,
I want more.

When all that glitters is not gold
And valleys mist your open eyes
Call me , for my own magic wings
Can fly you to clearer sunnier skies

If the black dog is again on your back
And all you feel is the darkest grey
Call me ,for my own magic heart
Can beat your fears , calm your day

When your sense of perception
Has hidden all that you you've got
Call me , for my own magic eyes
Will show you all that you've forgot

When your days are  never-ending
And your  nights are hard sharp steel
Call me ,for my own magic angel
Tender love for you is all I feel

Life tethers bodies
Mindfulness soars freely
Blissfully radiating loves light

And the blue universe ..
It wakes in the gaze of lovers
The breath of the grass is sparkling.
On the cheek of awakening ..
see her..
And she overwhelms me like sadness ..
washing me with her thesauri
a language that died for centuries.
....

i had missed too many sunsets hurting in silence. to this day, the sky is in a graying shade of blue. to this day, it is mournful and decaying over me — or inside me, i do not know. i had lost count of the months i shunned the sunsets and headed straight — disgracefully, to the arms of the dusk. besides, falling apart looked harsher, and messier, and more vivid in the light. and so i had missed too many sunsets; this too, is becoming a wound.

i wish i were kinder to myself.

i wish i could forgive myself.