I long

For a pair of eyes

To gaze my way when mine is closed

A whisper, my way,

With the intent to embrace

As my lips withhold

Secrets

A breath for a breath

Brushing tips of noses

A hand reaching out

As my heart recoils

Fire dancing within

As the night we first met

Against the wall of the living room

Where it handed me

A single rose

Then

Instead of waiting for a response

The voice would startle

“This, you won’t regret.”

This is not twitter, but I don’t have an account and I’m having a bad anxiety right now.

For the past many weeks, I’ve been finding it extremely difficult to fall asleep at night — or day, for that matter. My heart would start beating really fast, which forces me to sit up and contemplate all my life choices.

It really sucks. I’m still super young. My body shouldn’t act like this.

I’m so, so stressed. The only thing that provides me with a sense of freedom at all is writing. However, lately, I’ve also been feeling that my work is deteriorating, feels insincere, and ultimately unsophisticated, which I don’t know why I care so much since it’s all about emotions and self-expression, or at least that’s what it should be.

I care too much about what other people think. Even now, I am aware that the way I phrase this post may not sound intelligent enough to be listened to or appreciated. It’s getting a little difficult to be rejected so often.

:(

I trip and fall

The way winter emerges amidst the sienna leaves

Sweeping them off the ground by the sign of first snow

And that’s how I know

Luminosity sits still within your gaze

As horizon dims the adolescent sun

Park bench, locked scarfs, eyes, and arms

And that’s when I know

A fragile circle born from your breathy whispers

Collision of cold, heated mists, and fairy lights

Holding on tight may be my hands

And that’s what I know

As so my heartbeat, time is frozen

Then, before I could grasp onto yours

Empty bouquets from nameless strangers start arriving at the door once again

And that’s all I know

My darling, where have those hands been?

I ponder for till death becomes moonlight

Do they ever mourn the soft of my skin?

My darling, where have those hands been?

Caressing warmth and whimper

Do they toil to fathom yearning?

But he was a drizzle of rainfall

Neither impervious nor pellucid

A barely tangible territory

So gently, sprinkling the earth’s ground

Reviving eternal spring as mossy as veins under bare skin

Wearing a facade of an ethereal oasis

Only to deprive its blossoming

Because it will never be enough

Unconceivable is your touch

Tracing the lines of flowing stream

The thread remains uncrossed

So misremembrance is but a dream

In bed, gently, you whisper

Sunrise is near the window

You later ask me through the door

Why I’m treading in the shallow

To what you said earlier, I reply

With the language of the unspoken

Your form sure does make me sway

If an eye for an eye was what was insisted

Then reaching you is implied either way