I lay on the grass on a cold night, looking up at the stars, alone or with someone, it doesn't really matter. I imagine that when I look up, I'll only see happy moments, important people and things that once made me smile. Because now, I only see regret. Now, my eyes swell up. I… Continue reading Fantasies.
If I had all the happiness in the world, I think I'd miss my tears, My constant representation of the ocean. If I had all the happiness in the world, I'd miss the nights I stayed up, Stressed out of my mind. If I had all the happiness in the world, My anxiety would trade… Continue reading If I had all the happiness in the world.
I want to go back to my paper planes, To the skies when they were blue. Now they're grey, With the remains of war. I want to go back to my Kites, Which once were so colourful and bright; Now they're overpriced and redundant. I want to go back to my toys, Oh! How they… Continue reading Time Machine.
I have a thousand ideas, A million to-do lists, A trillion memories to cherish, And yet, Here I stand, lost, In the belief that only you can fix me. -S.C.
Goodbye, The word is so brutal. So final. Like the last leaf of fall, flying in the wind to some faraway land. How do you say goodbye? How do you say goodbye to someone who meant the world to you? How do you say goodbye and disappear? I wish I had the heart to say… Continue reading Goodbye.
"What's your greatest fear?", They ask. "Spiders", I lie. I know its regret. Regret, that somewhere, I've let people down, That somewhere, I've made a wrong decision. Every missed call, Ever cancelled rendezvous reeks of regret. Every unsent text, Every blocked contact, Echos regret. I fear regret, and it engulfs me. I run away from… Continue reading Regrets.
You're not pretty. No, you're not just pretty. Your skin is thicker than the Himalayan forest, Your fire will put the sun to shame, Your mysterious eyes will draw a thousand men to their deaths, And yes, You will go in the mire; Only to come back- BOLDER. You're, Strength and fire, Mystery and mire,… Continue reading Pretty?
I want three things in life: Summer skin, Winter hair, And the smell of rain. -S.C.
Every time she wrote,Fire erupted. Every time she danced, The skies turned grey. The sun never shines, Not on her. Her books were old, The pages yellow. Not her spirit, That was young, Young with anger and With love. The tears she cried, the seas they joined, Never were in vain. March came marching one… Continue reading A New Dawn.
Her black hijab blew out the window, Into the azure skies, Skies, where the clouds flew white, And where the kites rode the sun, And she could finally exclaim, "freedom". -S.C