Occasionally you find a love so healing, it stitches up your seams. Coloring the wounds so well, you forget the scars hidden deep within. The incessant tail wagging becomes your soul food, and the sloppy kisses the perfect slimy antidote to the wounds. Occasionally you find a love so healing, you figure this was what … Continue reading Healing Love
We've always been happy people - you tell me. The lucky ones. We got lucky in life - you and I. Lucky to be here - witnessing this miracle that is life. We got here, didn't we? You ask again. It hasn't been too hard so far, so we'll be fine - you say. Maybe … Continue reading Happy people.
Somewhere along the way, it became unconventional to live a slow life. To stay in the comfort of your home, watching time move slowly by. Somewhere along the way, weekends at home became lackluster. Books weren't the same fantasy worlds that brought the whole world into our living rooms - creating characters of our mind's … Continue reading Slow living.
I do feel ashamed. I feel like history constantly repeats itself and we are once again in the sidelines. That those who are fated to survive will, and others will die - no matter how I feel about it. I feel insignificant in the mass of the world. I feel insignificant as the world leaders … Continue reading Insignificant.
our scars are not so visible - we weren't the ones caught behind barbed wires, wondering whether we'll see tomorrow. we didn't lose our siblings - their names edged in our hearts and yet forgotten in history's pages. we didn't hear the dull growing sounds of fighter jets overhead and run for our lives into … Continue reading the scars we carry.
I dreamt of you today.. Standing broad shouldered, yellow shirt - a sullen face that never gives out much. My reliable friend. It's a funny thing - nostalgia. It reminds us of memories that never truly existed. It gives back only the best of the golden days. Swinging your heart along to the rattle swings … Continue reading Broad-shouldered friend.
hiding our wounds time and time again. Sprawling our selves - stretching thin to let you in. Hushing our words and shying our tears. wrapped in layers to hide our scars. Slowly we bled Monthly a tear. to weep for generations
The saddest stories - are the ones that were left untold. Those ones without a beginning or an end - the ones that leave us with the never-ending "what-ifs." The sad stories - they make you question the meaning of life - wonder what it means to live a good one at that. Leave trails … Continue reading The sad stories
Once a friend told me about the meaning of hiraeth. the feeling of longing for a home you once knew - she said. I thought - I knew that feeling all too well. a longing for a home that exists only in my memories. In the hidden fissures of my being. Hiraeth. The light rays … Continue reading Hiraeth.
it wasn't privilege that taught us to write. nor was it pride that taught us to speak. we inked to remember our stories - you turned embers of our pages. we screamed to fight for our voice - you scattered us into the ocean. and now - now you rewrite our histories. Our her-stories, they-stories … Continue reading stories.
Vellai Curtains 