the first girl i fell in love with had a shy smile, a just born style
and a profile of a life lived in black and white
see, for the rainbows in your pocket peeked out sometimes
the giggle bubbling at the edge of her throat and eyes glinting with mischief
figures can't encompass the unadulterated joy of playing a prank
maybe my skin is pale, or it’s not
or maybe i think i’m gay, or i’ve fought
battles and cried and begged for my rights
I am a shell of what’s left of me
I’m not who I used to be
So if you run into the girl I was
Don’t hesitate to tell her, her cause
Give her kindness and give her love
Before she disappears above
And becomes another constellation in the sky
Blue were the days when you thought I wouldn't stay,
Your eyes teary, a challenge, asking me to run away,
But in the middle of the dark woods, we somehow found a way
My words became the music to which you could sway.
Don’t get me wrong,
My fight is not with that woman, I am just a different kind of woman.
Meena put her lip gloss on. Litchis filled the air.
Both of them, thinking the same, of how fruits beg to be plucked.
The symphonic rhythms of her breath etched into my being,
I look up at her face as she gently presses her lips on mine.
What if I could not celebrate 6th September publicly,
What if I could not join the Pride march,
What if I was not the torch bearer,
What if I was not the path clearer,
That doesn't make me more or less important.
The corners of her mouth rise up occasionally, as if she knows -
as if she knows that the whole day, I struggle to find the words which describe what goes on in my mind,
all the things I want to tell her; how her skin reminds me of the soil that I grew up on, how her dangerous eyes seem to lure me in, and how her magnetic soul has held me captive.
It is words strung together
trying to make sense
of what I want to tell you
and what I need you to understand.
He says things to me, he does things to me.
Shh, don’t tell them, we’ll be embarrassed.
Two loveless souls trying to fill each other’s voids.
We make love, and tame those devils.
Animals we were, but don’t you see that this is our way of love?
She spoke of songs, music, rock and Cobain
She spoke of boys, home, and love
when i joke and ask her/ what if i was in love with a girl,/ it is not a joke either.
now that the private is political
am i a liberal because i don't kink shame myself
or because i go around calling marx "karl daddy"
You come in less than a minute after I do
But always after me
And I wish you'd stay for a while and talk about the day- your day with me
But the line goes dead soon after
I sit in my room every day now
Waiting for your call
To hear an “i love you” from you
With ‘you’ being all of me.
This is the story of three little pigs,
One built a house of hay, and the other of twigs,
And the mightiest, most pompous of the three,
Built a house of bricks under a Banyan tree.
Convinced that she was comatose, the two girls stared at each other for a second or hundred – the squeaky titters ceased.
Gigantic, and covered in striped rainbow tiers,
The house was called, “Safe Space for Our Fellow Queers”
A wondrous haven, a serendipitous find,
Here, Gretel could love freely and Hansel could bind.