Enamored

There he was,
In his vividly printed top and pressed trousers
Beaming like crazy
And minds have never been more visionary

There he smiles,
A breathing myth, a folklore
And hearts suddenly touched each other in places
where none has touched before

There he walks,
A knight with no sword, nor rose
But eyes, certainly, have never seen a star this close

And there he goes, he holds my hand
And time, for once, came to rest, instead of run

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Tounge-tied

Sometimes,
words I should be telling you
are suspended
at the tip of my tongue

So when you ask me
“what’s wrong?”
I can only make out
the easy
“nothing”

And the words
you didn’t hear
died in my lips
and aged with time

I have grown a forest
out of the things
I didn’t tell
and if you listen well
you’ll hear the rain
came from the
questions you never ask
and the weight
drags on every day
that you’ll find my smile
prepared to break
set to die

You see,
when words left
Silence knocked
and asked me
to pack my bags
and let go

but you said
“stay”
and
“please, let’s fix this”
and
“listen to me”

I knew I have to throw this away
I should let go
I knew I have to leave
but
Sometimes,
words
I should be telling you
are suspended
at the tip of
my tongue

My body is a walking museum

My body is a walking museum.
My bones heavy with hands running down my spine
and when touched, it does not break

It is made up bricks and bricks of catcalling
“sluts” and “whore”
molded into walls that held my back.

These thighs are reviewed one, two, three, four, five stars
Like an open hotel, a service, a merchandise
ready to be sold
on demand
in a market

And my eyes, a call for attention they say
It speaks ‘yes’
to passerby,
to schemers,
to the libido of men,
to the sleepless sexual drive
whenever and wherever

These breasts hide in plain sight that invites
to be seek, to be fondled
seduces the neighbors conclusively
without its knowing

And the beasts of the day openly sniff these shoulders like a bee
like a mosquito ready to attack in a blood-smell
All you
daylight bullies,
slut-shamers,
cat callers,
and predators
who accuse us provocative no matter what we do or wear,

Bury me.
Bury me and see how I dig myself out of the heap of soil
Bury me
and watch as I crawl out of your verdict as an object of your egoistic desires

Bury me
and look at me fly
because these wings are too strong and
too big for your shallow opinions to bring me down

The big breathing world encircles me in its grip,
but watch me break the clutches of your mouths and bodies
for you hit like rain and it falls formless.

Watch me,
a towering blossom of a tree,
sip down these waters and grow into miraculous beauty

For this woman is breathing

evolving

unfolding

and her artwork is not for your touching.

In Extremis

I’d leave my corpse in your hands and my name on your skin,
so you’ll never forget that I’d live there

I’ll house you in a graveyard and
bury you like roots and coffins,
for you to feel how it’s like to be left alone

With frost and rain, I want to efface your memory
and I’ll teach you my name
it will be the only words your lips will kiss,
the only tale you’ll tell

I hope you fall like rain,
forced in its downfall,
lonely and shapeless
with nowhere to go,
nothing to do,
but fall

Because when you leave, you used the windows and
leave winter to sleep in my bed
and now sunlight is a stranger touching my skin
my body is a map of your lost expeditions
but I’m the only one presumed lost and
you, the only surviving member

Now I dream, cloth with the memory of your face
enduring what remains of my withering self

Subdue

When you speak in your guttural voice and asked “Are you alright?”, I was seconds away to showing you my candor. And If that happens, my wobbly voice will definitely utter the miserable truth. But thanks to the Holy, my withdrawn mind reacts posthaste that it washes out my vocabulary and  drains it to a formless thought. Emotional perfectionism is a disease and I was its wretched host for years. Long-muted melancholies were now part of my system that it will take an absolute reconstruction to make it voluble. So when I hear your voice asking, I can only allow the sound of three words to permeate the air and those words would be “Yeah, I’m fine.”