Confessions

she’s a habit. an 8 am class that I take, a 5 pm phone call that I make, my best/worst muse.

I’ll tell her I love her, someday when my hands aren’t touching hers anymore

and I do not wake up to her text 

reminding me to meet her.

we always have so much to talk about, but she’s the quieter one of us.

her hands are tender and warm, and she’s light. I do not know how I went seventeen years without ever knowing of her existence. 

she’s a habit. an 8 am class that I take, a 5 pm phone call that I make, my best/worst muse. I could tell her everything without thinking twice/ my eyes are shut tight. someday, I’ll tell her how she makes me feel. like a person on fire. gasoline poured over my heart, set ablaze with just a smile. I’m burning. cold winds blow over my face and I turn to her, she laughs. she knows I get cold way too easily. too cold. someday, when they’ll stop telling me my love is an abomination, I will scream it loud enough for her to hear. 

About the guest author

Tanya Sharma

I am Tanya Sharma, and I am undergraduate student pursuing B.A. I like to write, paint and journal and I run a blog page where I post my journal entries.
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