Art. 

Your choice of art was melancholy tunes and dark frames, and on most days, you were your choice of art. And I came around. You held my face in your arms, our eyes locked, and you whispered: “You remind me of day break, you remind me of light” I smiled, I smiled in oblivion, I…

 love you anyway. 

  I love you in the same way I love sunrise – I wait all night to catch a glimpse, Knowing it won’t last, Knowing I’ll be playing waiting games again. I love you in the same way, I love sunrise – I wait all night waiting to catch a glimpse, Knowing you aren’t mine…

One night stand. 

Now that you know my secret, I hope the scars on my wrists make more sense to you,I hope you understand that those muted days were an illusion of calm created to negate the pandemonium in my head.  I hope you understand that the self deprecating jokes came from a place deeper than jest  ⁃it…

Somedays. 

But on somedays, the voices of betrayal were louder than the prayers of love. Today was someday.  she’s curled up in her corner, cold, shaking and in agonising pain. She wishes she could give the pain a face; call it a name and punch its face. Her wrists burning, yearning for the familiar touch of…

Slacklining.

slacklining ˈslaklʌɪnɪŋ/ noun the activity or sport of balancing on a rope or strip of webbing that is fixed high above the ground but not stretched so as to be taut. 24; She was a one-woman balancing act; tiptoeing on a tight rope suspended between where she was and where she is meant to be…

Dear Death.

Dear Death.   I loved you the way I fell in love for the first time. You were my first love, my high-school sweetheart. On most days, I no longer loved you, but there was always romance in thinking about you, there’s always romance in retrospect. The idea of you was strangely comforting. I knew…

Woman

You’re born with the weight of the world on your shoulder, Anchored by the tombs of religion built in your womb, Your family’s integrity tucked in to the hemline of your skirt, With just enough space for your husbands name on your forehead, And your virtue placed in between your thighs. Yet, self proclaimed high…

;

        ;30 days I remember nothing of trigger warning – suppressed memories come out to play. 90 days I stared at the bruises on my body, trigger warning – bruises long gone, the pain revisits sometimes. 30 more I mourned the death of life as it was, Trigger warning – i caught a…

Ricochet

Few years back, I was at my lowest. My will to live dissipated to the night as my own self was snatched from me, without warning, without consent. I reminisce that point of my life time and time because it’s already set a standard – been there, done that, never going there again. For the…

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind. 

’thought I’d be used to this by now, ‘thought I’d be better at it. But here I am for the second time, sitting in a corner giving in to the hollow screams. Different circumstances Same pain, etched to my hollow soul’s  inseams. ‘Talk about it’, they say, It’ll take away your pain. But your voice…

Its not men, its the ‘idea of men’.

As a feminist, there are two things i’ve grown to know to be certain. First and foremost, the conversation of feminism will only have a positive trajectory if we involve men in the conversation. Secondly – an extension of the first premise – its not men, the the ‘idea of men’. Let me occupy this space…