23 and You and Me

Yesterday I realized From the white-knuckle silence She wouldn’t let go That I am still unborn A point of no focus Not ready yet For her words that ring love May never be ready yet For that chuckle from her eyes...

Your baby, standing on her tiny wobbly legs, Staring at you, her fingers joyfully in her mouth I am like that, when it comes to you. Who are you, then? I’ve heard it said That there is a phase women go through...

October already
I wish I could see you
So that you will see
That I am not this dramatic

You dismissed my words, remember? You kept track of me to swat at a merest chance And months later, You sent me a philosophical missive For that, here is an ordinary poem Read this and delight in your reflection...

Now it feels the mist is clear
And you, who were in my arms...

There was a time, Two sisters enquired about you. Two brothers joked, Made my face flush. A mother and a father, Anxiously asked for your name But I, I only loved with possession, Groped between your breasts, Pushing...