whatever made me write this. 

Photo post.

Source: whatever made me write this. 

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reimagining Jane Austen’s persuasion.


It was not the brush of your hand against mine

Or the peck of your tender lips on my neck.

It was as I recall vividly,

the kiss of your soul planted on mine

Which pierced me.

It was your sad eyes,

when they met mine

It pierced me and asked me

If there was ever a slight hope for us

We were half agony and half hope

But how could I kiss you back

And tell you that

When I love you, I hate you.


I was bound by human love.

Daily I woke up with the manacles around me

And daily I retreated with it into my dreams

How could I let you breathe under my grey sky

when you saw me in a spectrum 

Of divine love.

In my mind it was a thousand times yes

But all I could do was stare. 

Sun in the graveyard

  I am terrified of myself.

I have been drawn in another mind

Cut in the spirit and pasted

haphazardly.

For some want me to be

Obedient and a model of sacrifice.

Others like me subdued and want me to carry myself 

Gracefully.

And yet, others who want me to be

Intelligent and have long hair.

I have been all that and 

Can say that I’ve screwed up.

Because what if I don’t want to be any of that.

The perfect woman. 

I want to learn my sky.

Drink from it.

Make mistakes.

Then burn it. And,

Create another.

I want to be my own person.

People made me learn to look down on myself.

And I did that. 

I made the sin and hence

I sit with the lump in my mouth.

Enough.

Screams my heart. 

Enough.

I scream.

The hurricane calmed down.

And I could see the rainbow.  

Rephrasing Priorities

img_0357-1The sky gurgles and then burst,

Retelling it’s endeavors at love

Crying out the rain

Singing it’s own song for the beloved earth.

But this is my song, despair not my love,

Your eyes and skin will be sung,

In another song, in another being.

And here I will be selfish,

Playing and singing my own songs

For me.