Trapped in a frame
I’m more in love with the photograph
that’s in my wallet,
than I’m with you
right in this moment.
On the 143rd re-run of my favorite movie,
I’ll be drunk, and like Mr. Kashyap,
flush the charred remains of it
down the toilet
of some cheap motel.
I hope I will be as cluelessly lifted
as the smiles on our faces.
I hope your cheek on my forehead
will burn as the snapshot did.
I hope that day will be as blue
as the T-shirts on our backs.
And I hope that I won’t dwell on you
as the photograph didn’t.
Lovers in mischief
I would call your bluffs,
And you on mine.
I never quite understood why we tried,
When we knew we couldn’t lie.
Don’t go peeping through holes now,
Impulsive recklessness is what we thrive on.
I propose trespassing into the past,
And stealing what is rightfully ours.
You stow away your candor,
And I’ll be on a look-out for a fib.
Proving to one another,
That we are young, wild, and stupid.
Shreyaa Darakh, 21, is an engineer and a yoga instructor. Her mind is as zen as her postures. She is an old soul, a little spiritual and wishes to be reborn in the 80’s, just to feel feelings unconditionally.
Picture credits: Shreyaa D.
