“trace the sky’s scars” I want to write a love poem to my ghost, but I do not like her. my phone case is a daily reminder that, I, am “lucky to exist” because supposedly there are people who love me; and while I don’t deny this, somehow, I don’t really feel all that lucky,… Read on
Poetry / all
Popping pills. One after another; been doing so ever since we were children. Open bottle. Take one. Swallow. Drink. Pills haunt us, cure us, poison us. They save us and kill us. We trust them so much that we agree to let them end us. We get addicted to it. We… Read on
Where people don’t belong. Where people crumble Where people say to be themselves, but then say “not like that”. We have a set of unspoken rules. We have to follow others There are rankings. Why? We classify. We discriminate. We label. Why? It’s because of these unwritten rules, we follow without any… Read on
Why are You Crying? Why are you crying You have a good life good relationships You are a privileged young girl On paper nothing is truly wrong with you So why are you crying You cry so often Tears seem to engulf you like the tide on a full moon Emotions drifting in and… Read on
I hope one day a heavy book with my name on it rests on your coffee table next to all the framed memories I was never even close to being a part of. I hope its pages are full of frayed sticky notes and the lines that vaguely reminded you of us are circled in… Read on
My mother is a baker, a young, bubbly baker, Her and her twin sister skip down the paved roads. all the way to the grocery store only a couple quarters in her pocket. In a simple exchange, she places them on the counter and returns home with a box of Bisquick. Her eyes scan each… Read on
