Unfamiliar Familiarities.

There’s something about your arms that feels so familiar.
The way they wrap around my physical form,
Firm, yet gentle.
And when they pull me into what was once considered personal space,
It’s caring, it’s protective.
It’s like I’ve been here before,
Like you were once my home.

There’s something about your face that feels so familiar.
The way your eyes dart around the room,
Before gleefully landing on mine.
And when your lips curve upwards,
I get to experience what is now my favourite smile.
It’s like you’ve been here before,
Like I was once your friend.

There’s something about these emotions that feels so familiar.
It’s in the way my heart beats to the rhythm that my soul joyfully dances to.
It’s in the way that my spirit welcomes current thoughts of you,
Future thoughts of us.
So, when you say that this feels right,
I don’t attempt to put up a fight,
Because, It’s like we’ve been here before,
Like we once shared love in a different lifetime.



Insomnia Revisits.

It was the suddenness of it all.
Do I move on or do I fall,
Back to a place of familiarity?
My feet flee but my soul stands in solidarity,
With what once was.
What felt right.
What’s been keeping me up all these nights.


Curses For Freedom.

When I write about past experiences,
I hope that no one notices.
And when references are made to moments that I cherish forever,
I speak temporary memory loss into past lovers.
The same kind that made you forget my worth,
The same kind that allowed you neglect sacrifices made and emotions brought forth.
I speak a lack of care,
In instances where the mind is aware.
That you remember but are nonchalant.
So I can write without withholding,
Information capable of causing a spiritual uproar.



Lately I’ve been avoiding writing,
Just like I avoid reminiscing.
Just like I avoid falling…
Deep into a state of love.
Deep into a sea of vulnerability.

I’m afraid it’ll take away my perceived mental stability.
Force me to think intricately,
About the decisions I make today and the day after.
I mean, was that a closed chapter?
Or is this to makeup for the leftovers?

So, I’ve been avoiding writing,
Just like I avoid starting over.
Just like I avoid being sober.
It’s not the train of thoughts that scare me,
It’s the possibility of clarity,
A conclusion I’m not ready to accept yet.



There are butterflies in your belly,
But you act surprised,
And that amuses me.
Did you forget?
Maybe hope that things would change?
Because you didn’t,
And neither did she.
But you act surprised,
And that amuses me.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling,
And your abs from laughing,
But you act surprised,
And that amuses me.
When did you think his jokes would stop being funny?
Or perhaps, time would alter your sense of humour?
It’s why you stayed away for so long,
But you act surprised,
And that amuses me.

All packed up and more than eager to go down memory lane.
It was your reality,
Your safe space,
Your hideaway even when life was beautiful.
It makes sense when you continuously make pitstops as you journey through nostalgia,
It helps with elongated encounters,
But 24 hours would never be enough time.
Not for you, not for them.
But you still act surprised,
And that amuses me.


Just Incase.

Incase we don’t have tomorrow,
I want you to know
Today is the best day of my life
Simply because I know you exist
In a space where I can call home.


Living With An Emotional Deficiency – V.


It’s not about you,
Never been, never will be.
I know you secretly wonder if I was the same way with him,
But for you, I tried,
To unpeel myself from the wall,
Etched in closer till our personal space overlapped.
I practiced hugs which weren’t identical to two sumo wrestlers coming together to pull their limbs out,
Spoke about things that destroyed me, past and present,
Until I felt a prick in the back of my eyes,
Salt water trails crawling down my throat.
It stung, it hurt,
It was tears that I couldn’t cry.
Because if I start now, when would this emotional cascade end?
I have a lifetime of unspoken trauma,
I’m afraid it could kill me.
Afraid I would die without knowing life outside of these emotional constraints.


Living With An Emotional Deficiency – III


If you promise to hear me out, I’ll explain,
Why emotional responses are unhurried.
Why I’m numb and expressionless initially.
Truth is, I’m not cold.
It just takes me time to recollect all my memories of similar incidents I’ve encountered,
In movies, tv shows, novels and friends.
I sift through the emotions they expressed,
Create a combination of all of them and choose that to show,
While crossing my fingers,
Hoping to God that’s the appropriate reaction.

Would you tell me if it’s not?


Living With An Emotional Deficiency – I.


How best can I explain,
That I struggle with vulnerability,
Like people struggle with addiction.
There are days I cry about my inability to connect,
About ‘dismissal’ being my immediate response.
I hurt when my body jerks back once in contact with another,
Knowing it is impossible for mammals to survive without body contact.

But how do I change this?