As our eyes lock, the moon inside my eyes will cause the ocean inside yours to ripple and tide. We will fall in love not for an eternity, not forever. We will fall in love for the time it takes to blink, we will fall … Continue reading Written in the stars.
Somewhere, in another world. on the corner of a lonely street, the clock is forever stuck at 11.11, and two lovers sit on the sidewalk stealing all the stars from the sky and cramming them inside their pockets. Somewhere, in another world, we still live, … Continue reading Frozen.
Spend some time
With the night sky
Curled up beside you.
Let it drip secrets
In your ears
About how
Its darkness
Is its most
Breath-taking feature.
-Rupali Jeganathan | The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
Follow me on Instagram.
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.
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.
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.
Follow me on Instagram.
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.
Nobody told me How hard this would be. Nobody told me That being methodical Won’t help me, Not this time. * That, charts and graphs On how long it takes To get over someone Would be as useful to me As a bicycle is to … Continue reading La douleur exquise.
We cut open the minutes And pour poetry inside them Trying to immortalize the seconds. We hear a thousand stories In the silence Between the moonbeams. We see a million colours In the darkness that resides In the spaces between two stars. We listen to … Continue reading We.
Literature Is My Porn 