To you, who has a hold of my heart.

To you.

To you who has managed to mold it in so many painful ways.

To you.

To you who has taken something so fragile, and exposed it to the flames.

To you.

To you who has opened my eyes and mind to new possibilities, yet hold me back.

To you.

To you that will continue to hold my heart over the fires, never putting it out of it's misery.

To you.

To you who holds power over my every waking thought and unconscious mind.

To you.

To you, who whispers sweet nothings, healing the burns with your cool words, then tossing me back to hell.

To you.

To you, the one I will still love, despite it all.

To you, who says you're sorry.

But it is too late, the damage is done, and I have been burned.

So, to you, who has taken me captive in my own mind.

To you.

So many Junes and Julys
I spent watching the paint dry
on our brand new cream walls
instead of going to play football
with the other kids my age in the street.
I sat and wondered why
my shaking knees did not smile, why
my bony fingers could not disguise
their quirkiness under pretty blue eyes
like all the other girls did.

And yet many paint coats later
I now realise that these walls have not changed
anything but their colour
in the many years my parents have lived here.
My parents, who spent so many years teaching me
to be loyal and kind,
not only to others
but to myself.

I like to think that if the walls could talk, they would say:

It does not matter what colour you decide to
dye your hair (or your walls),
because those who really love you
could not care less.
We have seen you grow into the person you are today;
stubborn, passionate and genuine,
but we know that you may still need to borrow
other people’s glasses to see it.
The road to self love is difficult
but know that you must love yourself
before loving anybody else.

You may not believe it yet
because you see others as the galaxies which
you could never be, but we promise that
you are the stars, and anyone who refuses
to look through a telescope to see that
does not deserve to see you shine.
There are lakes and rivers waiting for you
with open arms, and sunrises
which will put on their best colours
just for your eyes to see.

Your body is made of stardust,
you are stronger than the trees you have grown to love,
and though you may not be perfect
you are enough.

First love is innocent and pure. It is the first time your blood gushes to your cheek, making them blush. First time you feel you can’t-sleep-can’t-breathe-can’t-eat. First time you feel speechless but poetic. First time your heart feels it is going to beat itself out of your chest. First time when the words “I love you” send down a tingly feeling along your nerves. First time when you feel sleepless but exhilarated. First time you find yourself thinking about someone all day. First time you trust someone to protect your heart. First time you feel-so-much-you-get-scared. First time you let someone past your guards and in. First time when your day feels incomplete without talking to them and world incomplete without their presence. First time when every intricate memory and detail matters. First time your skin feels electrified when you stand next to them. First time you realize you can feel this way about another person.
The first person with whom you experience the waves of various shades of emotions. The first person you’re willing to give, give and give with no limits for too much never seems too much. The first person you are willing to surpass any boundaries for. The first person you love more than yourself. The first person you pour love and secrets too. The first person who made your smile widen. The first person who you imagine your present and future with. The last person you think about when you sleep and first one to wake up to. The first person who makes you feel the love in songs, books, and movie. The first person to make you aware of something deep in yourself. The first person who feels like the moonlight in the night sky and the sun in the day. The first person who you are willing to take interests in their interest and love what they love. The first one who loves all your insecurities and flaws into beauty.

Life gave me the truth
in exchange for my youth.

Excruciating is the swim,
under the monotonous glim.
The walls, I wish to defy
and give what  it takes to satisfy
my dream of freedom
my freedom of dreams
taste the saline cream
for I am the turtle in the tank
aspiring to leap high
to swim across the ocean
under the mighty blue sky

Insipid is the strawberry
she feeds me with delight.
my heartbeat numbing down
succumbing to the blight
If only she could hear
my cry under the carapace,
I would take her to my abode
and bathe her in the sunlight.
for I am the turtle in the tank
breathing blood with every sigh
my scutes fading away
my wings are calcified.

She tells me matters of her heart,
and stories of her trend,
and at times she makes faces
that I fail to comprehend.
At times when she is gloomy,
she just stares me blatantly,
as if asking me to understand
for I am the turtle in the tank
and that is what I try
I sooth distressed hearts
and mine no one pry.

This submission shall not perish
nor should it be an apparition,
my story,
with its inherent glory,
shall be a beacon for the lost
celebrated for the fortune it has cost.

to put it simply enough,
I didn't start with any blueprint,
that moment,
with the scent of ferment,
grabbed my gut, punched to the core
numbing my senses, throat dry and sore.