It's ironic that we were just talking about borders in class that day. Invisible borders. The rope was a physical manifestation of the border between the crowd of men and women, and me, a person who was neither.
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.
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?
when i joke and ask her/ what if i was in love with a girl,/ it is not a joke either.
You are the object.
She comes and asks me who I am
Asks me to grip harder.
When the moon is unreachable
I push myself into the breachable
Her eyes feel my insides and suddenly
I am nobody.
You fumble and drop sentences, your leg trembles and beats a staccato rhythm on the pavement while she patiently hears out your half-complete, constantly backtracking stories, nods and keeps brushing her hair back.
Intersex people spend a lot of their lives doing this emotional labor for others because they are inherently responsible to be born an error.
Artwork by acrylicelephant
I hate that I wallow
That I bury my face into my hands
Slam the door behind me
And cry all day
I hate that my diary …
she's a habit. an 8 am class that I take, a 5 pm phone call that I make, my best/worst muse.
This is a story of a girl who falls in love with an ethereal being who literally tears out her heart.
This question took me back all those years ago and I vividly saw her pushing some kid out of the way to crouch down in front of the place he was about to step on.
When I joined the course, I was excited to share my experiences with the class. But with time I realised not everyone was interested. Most of them didn't interact with me, asked questions, or exchange their experiences.
Hindi Poem by Shubhshree Mathur.
If I wasn’t feeling like shit because I was turned on by girls (one girl in particular), I’m sure I would have found something else to hate myself for. I was young, female, loud, and had a body. Society does this to you. It moulds you till you are all soft woundable spots, and then it makes you kick yourself.
I tried to remember if the booth on screen is the same booth that I and my partner usually go and get a security check from. I couldn’t recognise it. I stopped thinking and concentrated on the film.
I want to tell him how I feel,
How I struggle to sleep,
That fear of the two letter word,
Makes me weep,
He is The Only One.
how do you know it's girls?
i wonder as my friend comes out to me
how do you know the limit of your love?
and somehow, weird quizzes dragged me all over the internet