STRANDS

A transparent jar
lies in the back
of a cob-webbed
locker.
Wispy, liquidy strands
fighting

to come out.
Trying
to slide past,
the lid shut tight.
And there are nights
of loneliness
and longing
for companionship
where I twist
the lid
just a bit
and they shriek,
those strands,
ready to create
terror
at first chance.

And people say
conquer your
thoughts.
Maybe they are unaware
of the power
each strand holds.
Of how, each
is capable
of wrapping
itself
around my delicate neck,
a million times
and take away
my extremely fragile
life.

Beauty

When you see yourself
in the mirror each morning
and curse yourself
like a routine
as if the words
just belong there
rolling themselves out
as if on cue.
When you see yourself
and you see the scars
the marks
the curves and bulges
you see imperfections
and you hate
your own body
with every breath of you
with all of your being.
And your body
rebels....
it hates you, for hating it.
and in that
vicious cycle,
you forget
that someone looks at you
and he sees
what you see
when you stare at the moon
and cannot keep your eyes off.
Magnificence
and perfection
in all the little marks.
And beauty…
Utter beauty.

FIREFLIES

We shared
Laughs and tears
Coffee and fears
Our love for black
The scar on my back
Stubbiness in my finger
The pungent smell of ginger
The rush in speed
The bowing of a seed
And now...
Now I cannot
Encounter
My favourite fireflies
Without you
Popping up between my eyes.

MINE

He is a moonlight night,
Skin sun-kissed & bright,
Coffee in bed,
A book unread,
Rainbow dyes,
Orange skies,
Floating clouds,
Gatherer of crowds,
An exciting dare,
Undone hair,
Tearful smiles,
Unopened files,
He is all of this,
And much, much more,
A bit of everything fine,
All of this, but just not mine.