between the lines 

on every page


between the words

that you said

i lost myself. 



you make me feel

like your fingers are peeling open my mind

turning it inside out

forcing my nails across a chalkboard

leaving white trails

a warning

a taste

of everything that is to come.


your hands
are wrinkled
and tired
and calloused
more so with every touch
almost as if
your youth
was dissolving
into me
like a happy pill
in water
its own existence
while giving away
what little it had.


candles cast yellow shadows
on a dark blue floor
and the misty eyed woman
and her turban
seem to shimmer
in the haze
of greed and longing
almost calling out to me
through you
and i almost reach out
my hands parting
this is my last chance
to hold you
to tell you
that i can’t 
feel this anymore.


i don’t blame you

i don’t blame you for screaming

i don’t blame you for hurting

for crying

for feeling

i don’t blame you for anything you do

and yet you blame me

for every step you take

like it is my fault i have bruises from your assaults

like it is my fault that you hate me enough to stay

all i want is to go back to when you were in love with me

so in love that you didn’t speak for weeks

at least i didn’t have to wear long sleeves and bandages.

Miniature Proses – 4



this lust

was not meant to be.

Monochrome Life

As I stand in the crowded train day after day, I dream of becoming someone different, someone new. Someone who isn’t confined to this world, someone free to follow her fantasy, and not remain trapped in assignments¬†and submissions and fears. At times, I wish I could just move out of my shell, speak out, reach greater heights, and yet here I remain, stuck inside my own head, screaming in colour, while the world outside remains black and white.


Becoming Someone

Crowded trains, empty hearts,

a lover’s turn to scream

like broken mirrors and glass

held together with duct tape,

shattered inside.

Blue cold creeping over the rainforest of ruins and shadows,

wind on our faces

a play, a pretense of a smile

behind half a rumour,

there is the rise of a face,

that changed everything.

-inspired by train travel, standing at the door, wind on my face, an empty ache in my heart and a mind full of dreams