like a caterpillar cocooned into its shell undergoing metamorphosis—growing up sneaks up to you whether you want it or not

We have built a civilisation / of sky-high buildings, / of concrete cities, / of disconnected communities

go further than/ what the hills have seen/ through their ice pick scars

Welcome, weary traveler! To my humble abode. Come, come. I'll show you

You know those instances when we start off in the wide, turbulent currents of a river making its way downstream?

Grief is a lonely river, like a fisherman's song with an empty net

When there’s a lull in the air, I get the feeling that I’ve scraped the bottom of my fleshy insides.

Dust patterns have gathered around my landline phone, huddling around the maroon. my fingerprints take some dust off of it, and they rejoice.

You called me close in the moments of grace/ Veiling my delicate senses

You know how that day the wind brought out/ The crazy thoughts I had in me all the while.

I wove necklaces of lyrics/ Which you'd wear beautifully

Buckets of water I pour on my head; my vision gets blurry./ "The blurrier, the merrier", my mother said.

The yard in this noontime is buzzing with/ The white aroma of the guava flower

I’m going through a heartbreak

I'm tired of living with this nagging thought that we'll cross paths someday, /You and I

Seventeen Springs cloaked in December, Have flown by.

(For Lutfa, Nayeem, and Aarong Herbal Hair Pack)

They say the hills have eyes Iridescent, all knowing, and deathlike.

Do you want my hands / Will they be enough to keep you warm

Am I allowed to hold on to you? / But you are waves of serendipity, / Moving forward in each clutch