The sun sinks its hands into my flesh, and creates a sky out of the sadness inside. – The half moon nestled behind my ear, whispers poetry in my ears, and I swallow it down. My mouth stinks of love. – I hear crumbling houses … Continue reading How the world helped me heal-I
There’s something About The dark hours Of 2 a.m That switches on The lanterns Along your spine And lets you see, Clearly, The words Gushing mutely Through your bones. -Rupali Jeganathan | The Girl Lost In The Bookstore Follow me on Instagram.
Before you tell me those three words, let me warn you. Loving me is not going to be easy. Some days you are going to feel like you hold the entire universe in the palm of your hands, ecstatic and infinite. On those days, your … Continue reading Loving me will not be easy.
i. On days When it is stormy On the inside of my skin, And I can hear The echoes of my heart Breaking Inside my ribcage, You gently pick up The pieces Of my broken dreams Where they have fallen On the floor From the … Continue reading Letters to my mother.
I want to etch Poetry On snow-capped mountains With words That turn A shy shade Of pink, The colour Of your palm When I pinch it, lightly. * I want to hang Your shattered pieces, Glittering moons In the sky, Their beauty Reflected In the … Continue reading I want to.
I search for words In the front pockets Of your unbuttoned denims Hanging just behind the door, And in the fragrance of the flowers That will decorate Your graveyard someday. * I search for words Underneath the dust That decorates the frame Of our photograph, … Continue reading Language of the seas.
“Let us break the rules Of beauty”, she whispered In my ear. Let us stop swathing our faces With anti-aging, And fairness creams That promise to make Our skin glow. Let us show the world That beauty hides In the wrinkles on your skin, And … Continue reading Rules of beauty.
Today, I mixed
A bit of
Your memories
With the watercolours
And painted
Poetry
On the walls-
No one knows
Why the walls
Glow
At night.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
This makes no sense, but okay.
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The world sells destruction. And, I eat it for breakfast. My home. No, not a home. My house is too small to fit in all my anger and destruction. I see it leaking. Cutting the sunlight in two. I sold my soul to the devil … Continue reading Destruction.
Anacampserote- something that can bring back a lost love
In the place
Where our dreams
And realities collide,
In the spaces
Between each minute,
In the magic
That resides
Within your words-
That’s where
You’ll find me.
That’s where
I’ll be waiting.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
I know this is shit, and I apologize.
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Literature Is My Porn 