A setting sun as September dims in hidden peaks of youthful whims; descending amidst our saintly sins— descending behind your somber grin. Glittered by the stars away and above, along and among their cosmic doves, through wolf-cuts and knob-like ties, I once knew those purple eyes. A first desire, a seldom Spring— a final fire, a severed string; waiting outside your wide-shut door to crumple and curse me a little more. December 24th, can you hear me? I miss the kids we used t

You are my favourite piece of Earth The sea of thoughts rounding my head Hits the shore of emptiness hard. To fill that shore, imaginations galore were made. Glass hearts were broken; my lesson learned. Reality hits like wild raindrops, My thoughts grow colder with the wind’s touch. Heavy expectations fall like boulders on sand; Accepting you’re lost—something I just can’t. The silent point where the sky and sea meet Is where expectation and reality hit. The moon still shine

The same road, everyday you pass, Where you cried and hid your tears. That exact sky, you everyday look, Never changed (its) soul talking to your heart. That long breath you take And say: 'Everything will be alright one day' The same faith you have in your God, Making you more shiny than ever today Remember, how you smiled When you were 8, See? Even this didn't change On your bright face. Thoughts of failing May kill you inside, But you keep smiling On people's face righ

I close my eyes before the new day. The now remains intact, as the city lights go out. It's night, a Friday with the smell of coffee. Music envelops my soul, I run and cross the parks of my childhood. The voices slowly return: the truth has become a mystery. I have only a book in my hands, and I am far from everything, as if it were the last day. Far from silence, from simple pleasures. The joy has vanished. The smile has been erased. Today I have two pieces of writing and a

I can’t tell who I was In a previous lifetime, A princess, a Lord’s mistress, Or a prisoner who lost his mind I can’t tell who I am, In this lifetime either A poet, a psychologist Or a hopeless lover But on the inside, I’m just a broken shell of a woman Who is mean, wretched, And one misfortune away from joining a witch coven I’m someone who is scared Of bugs, commitment, and the journal I wrote in when I was 12 I have it in me To give my heart to someone who doesn’t deserve

A hidden nymph lived her life in a small magnolia tree near the lake While The siren song sounded throughout the forest I looked at the trees I felt like i should rest in one of these But I just couldn’t Because there was so much to see In that piece of dream I moved on Exploring the magical world That the little dreamer never witnessed Or visited I found the dryad lagoon Majesty was not at home And then, the violet valley Sorrounded me And amid the fairy’s majestic dance Th

My father is the name I carry; a bastard son of a bastard son. My father is very much like God— for that I haven't seen either one....

A formation that's imminent awaking what's inside. Grounded earthly movements which will soon subside. With good and bad intent for those...

I am, by birth, a person of the East. I am, by blood, a laughter and a please. I am, by skin, a man of uncrossed rivers; I am, by...

the damned stands before her ʻāina , repressed tears embellish her limpid eyes as she overlooks the lavender, melancholy skies,...

N obody can ever replace you, your spirit lives on. A nd I wish I could've spent more time with you before you were gone. N obody told...

His hands smell of anemone and mushrooms on a spring morning. The sea is as flat as he is silent. He’s a man who deals with silence and...

Impostor Syndrome (noun) /ɪmˈpɑstər ˈsɪn.droʊm/ -by Shreya Acharjya i had my foot in the door of the sanguine prospect of more strange...

i. There exist dreams within the corpse, fresh still And a glass of red wine on her bedside There, a slight note, and two bullets later...

It's small things that counts they said But never the small things that break too How long are those small conversations they say Never...

Nandini Rawat, a recent high school graduate, has found solace in art since childhood. Painting provides a calming presence in her life,...

I'm fruit that has fallen off a tree and onto the damp muddy grass I feel bruised and squashed and too ripe for anyone to want to eat me...

I wake up to darkness one day I look into my favourite sanctuary A depressing jeopardy The orangutan waving goodbye The black rhino...

The sun melts on the horizon of a mountain My love for her is found again We lie in the grass and listen to rock n’ roll Finally, taking...

is love real? i once asked i can’t touch it or taste or hold it grab it from someone’s arms i can’t buy it from a christmas sale but one...