A place for my reflections.
alone, alone with this brooding pain I find myself staring at my hands for days I know the blood is still running why don’t I feel it then? why this emptiness, wafting through the air like a stench I’m sorry I do not think it’s beautiful the crying, the holding a pillow like it’s a … Continue reading Leave
she left the door open hoping his feet would enter, climb the stairs to her bedroom and ask for her; her eyes dry from staring, she wondered how his face would appear from a distance. first blurry and then the mysterious blob exciting her as the shape of his head became clearer and shiny with … Continue reading Open
The further I get from it, the harder it gets. My head is flooded with loud thinking. My hands are shaking slightly. No words or too many words? I need to thaw my tongue. this blog has been an abandoned space for some time now. I'm sorry. There is a lot I want to say. … Continue reading a blank page
Mosquito net to save your soul be the fish that wants to trap itself shut You’re running from a buzz that carries your blood it’s a shame you need to save your soul in the dungeons of dreamland, you hide your secrets where all is lost if you try too hard you just want … Continue reading Mosquito net to save your soul
Schooling is motherhood and I've been broken by my mother. I was born cautious in the nascent class of 7 'B'. I knew how to lie low, how to keep a distance from angry seniors and such who screamed 'revolution'. I knew how to smile without ever meaning to be friendly, other kids fell for it, … Continue reading Broken by a mother
Her bruises fixed my broken heart.
I wrote that letter: a follow-up to my previous poem "A love poem for a stranger" I wonder if you know That it's me who wrote that letter. I hope I could seduce you With that shoddy poetry on a paper. I might have been a bit too much But that’s the thing about honesty, … Continue reading I wrote that letter.
I saw it. I saw it. I saw it happen. Clothes being ripped, Life being gripped, And breath being nipped. But I pretend that I saw an empty street instead.
Reflections of my insides have surfaced on the screen can you see? They say they are watching watching me. watching me from the lenses of their own encrusted filth through the filter of human lunacy Are you watching still? Watching them bathe themselves clean watching them eat? Reflections of your entrails have now surfaced on the … Continue reading Who is watching?
Date: 7th April 2017 Watching moving cars and trees from the thick transparent glass of the metro had a soothing, almost therapeutic effect on my frenzied brain. "Next stop Shivaji Stadium", the recorded human voice declared from the speaker buried in some strange corner of the metro walls. I thought to myself - two more … Continue reading metro rides
Aakshi Sinha 