Night Blooms

Your heart, you’ve discovered,
has a habit.
of throwing itself from heights it could never really reach before.

Affection that lingers like the fragrance of the jasmine—sweet—
on the heel that crushed it, stumbling in the dark
—forgetting to ask for forgiveness.

Your lungs mock the air attempting to make its way in:
you can’t sit with us
(laugh please. let it echo across the water. stain it bright blue and purple
—and red, closest to your heart)
inhale
they pretend to not know (how)
(oh bother)

sometimes, you’re so pretty it hurts
like gravity
gravel rushing at you,
–you: poised to smash into it, nose first;
falling.

–and I don’t know if you’re the love-er or the love-ee
but
it’s equally devastating, either way.
I do not want to know how it ends
–even if it’s good
–even if it’s bad

–even if it’s only as light as the kisses the dragonfly grants the water
or heavy like moonlight across tear-streaked sheets
(like in the movies—
far away)

I’m saying act
pretend they don’t taste like the first sip of water at iftaar-
icy cool lullaby soothing away every wrongdoing you’ve been met with
(or meted out)
your ribs exist for a reason
and maybe ‘cage’ is too harsh
but your heart wasn’t built to dangle off of sleeves.

We’ve never been to space
but you say it must feel something like this,
untouchable static

(get a grip, good God)

Anyway, this is about me watching all my friends fall in love and make a (happy, dangerously adorable) fool of themselves. Ah, youth.

The header is my neighbour’s tree at night from when I got to go back home this year and the last image is me at my grandpa’s at 7 in the morning, home alone on the terrace.

Yours,
can’t curse on paper

p.s – was the mean girls’ ref too obvious or not at all. Also, wordpress has such great new features?? Was colouring every block in too much though?