Metanoia (iii)

part iii • on losing and finding yourself


Love child

I. you barf at lovers that hide under facades. your ficklemind never ceases to light up hearts. your sighs recite poetry, retell lost stories, and at times, quiver with egomaniacal lies. II. you are satanic, halo levitating three inches above your disheleved hair. you are aggravating, at sixes and sevens, spewing out untimely warrants of … Continue reading Love child


his words drip like nectar procured from honeysuckle, sweet and savoury; as creamy as milk poured on honey, as velvety as honey on milk. her tongue intertwines with his meticulous charisma, her translucent limbs with his herculean ones. her eyes flutter shut, like butterfly wings, as his aroma wafts up her nostrils and she is … Continue reading honeysuckle


• it's strange how we hide behind closed doors 24/7 to ponder over a multitude of indefinite insecurities. and at the occasional need to step out, we push open said closed doors, deafening creak and all, and suddenly, the crowd is looking straight at you and all you want to do is wither away like … Continue reading Doors