alternate universe/ 30 of 30!!!!/ 121

Every bone in my body is
aching for something more.
In an alternate universe,
I am wiser and happier,
I am wearing a white
tshirt and looking effortless,
the sunlight casting a
soft glow over my face,
but in a calm and collected
and you know, cool way.
In an alternate universe,
I am almost Beyonce.
Or maybe, I’m the
person who writes all her
songs- maybe I’m a
pseudonym, hiding behind
a mask, or a helmet,
or a wig, maybe I’m a
real world mystery-
in an alternate universe,
I am where I want to be.
Whether it’s in a different
city, or just a different body,
I am what I could not be
in this life. In a alternate
universe, I am the sound
of the sea in the smallest
of seashells. The song of
the nightingale. In an
alternate universe, I am
more. More than I am now,
more than I’ll ever be here,
in an alternate universe,
I am free, like a bird, or
a really rich girl, I am a
feather in the wind-
just drifting.
In an alternate universe,
my bones are just bones,
and the only ache I feel
is one of satisfaction after
a long, long day of
being who I really am.

27 of 30/ 118

I keep imagining your bed.
Keep imagining you on it.
I had almost forgotten what
the heat feels like, forgotten
the unflinching passion, and the
desire for more, more, more of you,
I keep imagining you.
One layer less every time.
I keep imagining what it would
be like to be next to you, keep imagining
what our bodies could do, what we
could do, if we weren’t so far away.
Because if we weren’t, if we weren’t,
just imagine the fire between us.

26 of 30/ 117

I am in love
with someone’s back,
after all
imagine falling for
who stays, imagine
a person who loves you
back, I
am in love with flaws.
Black and
blue, my arms are
with them- I am unable
to fit in
without cutting myself
into pieces.
I am in love with pain,
with the
feeling of flaying myself,
of skinning
myself alive, I am in love
with nothing
good. Nothing happy.
all I’ve loved is a fool,
is unworthy,
is just not good enough,
after all,
I’m in love with myself.
I’m still not sure why.

tired/ 24 of 30/ 115

My throat is raw from
speaking all the times,
distributing my opinions
like free goods before an
election, I am tired of
being vocal. Tired of
tearing my hair out
trying to make people
listen, tired of deciding
other people’s fates,
tired of playing leader,
manager, and the
controller of destiny.
I am tired of being who
I am. Tired of the worry
that bubbles up, tired of
the incessant need
for more, for more, for
more- I’m tired of being.
Being who I am.
Being where I am.
Today? I’m tired of
living the way I do.

slipping away/ 23 of 30/ 114

I have forgotten what
love feels like. The
elusive quality slips
through my fingers
like running water,
and I, am never quite
able to catch it.
Instead, I sit
ankle deel in
its stream, and
I wonder, will it
ever stop floating
away from me?

22 of 30/ 113

Can you feel the shame?
It sticks to your hands like
slime, covers your body like
a coat of grime, can you feel
the disappointment? It’s
a burden on my back.
Can you feel the denial?
It clamors for attention
like a toddler, and uses
morality and religion as
a garb to hide under, can
you feel the overwhelming,
the overwhelming pain?
it targets every bone in
your body, feeds on the
anger and the rage, can
you feel it? That’s the
feel, that’s the feel
of pain.

19 of 30/ 110

There is a knot in my stomach
and I don’t know how to untie it.
Once I tried, but I just made
it tighter- squeezing my entrails
even as I tried to break free.
There is a lump in my throat,
and it’s making it hard to swallow.
Every time I try, I just get stuck,
so instead I don’t eat, don’t drink,
don’t speak. There is an insecurity
hovering at the back of my head,
aand now my mind is a ghost town.
All I can feel is the lingering
sense of unease, the feeling
that today- today is not my day.
Neither is tomorrow. Or day after.
There is a knot in my stomach,
a lump in my throat, a spirit in
my mind, but there is also hope.
Hope in my heart, that one day,
one night, one week, everything
is going to be alright.

live wire/ 15 of 30/ 106

You touch me and I am a live wire,
ready to bolt at the first feel,
I am a forest fire, and nothing
can stop me from lighting up,
I am a firefly- aglow against
night sky- you touch me, and
I am real. I don’t know when
contact became a healthy
substitute for mental health, but
I do know that I know longer
like crying all the time, that the
world is still dark and dreary
but most days, I can see the sun-
a small hope in the distance,
and I’m not saying you’re the cure,
not saying you’re what keeps me
tethered to this world, I’m just
saying you make it easier. Just saying
that live wire love is better
than no love at all, I’m just saying,
I would rather bather in the flames
of a fleeting feeling, than suffocate
in the ashes of reality. I’m just saying,
when you touch me, I can feel the
electricity. I’m just saying, live
wire love is electric and alive,
and that’s all I ever want to be.