You Can Look Now

“I lean towards the sun, seeking out its warm touch and gentle glow. It’s okay to take space and need things. How else could I hope to grow?”

Art by: Luceferous

In the silence of a warm afternoon, I bloom. Gently, gently, unfurling every petal with care.

In the soft goldenness of the sun-caressed terrace, I cut off all my thorns. I put them aside. And though it is in my nature for them to regrow, I, for once, want to not be painful to hold.

Resiliently, as the clouds rove by, I unearth nearby weeds and shake off sharp-teethed bugs that feed off of me.  Maybe it’s not all my fault, after all, that it took so long for my colours to show.

I lean towards the sun, seeking out its warm touch and gentle glow. It’s okay to take space and need things. How else could I hope to grow?

Careful still, but at ease, I bend with the wind, making an awkward partner for a dance, but dancing all the same.

I stand, a little shy, a little proud and say to the world:

“You can look now, I’m not hiding anymore.”



Note: Day 6 of ‘NaNoWriMo’

Soft, soft…

Art by: Loony

Too often when they speak of saving,
they trust in guns and violence,
fire and smoke.

But what of the saving you do
when you hold a trembling hand in yours?
When you sit and listen,
when you humble yourself
and let the soft-spoken speak?

What of the saving that is done in softness?
A kind word pressed between pages,
unhurried like the clouds,
gentle as the smell of perfume when the sun is out.

What of the lives you save by being not brave, but kind?

Break my heart, please.

“I need you to do me a favour
and break my heart please.
I am stepping out into this world,
and I need to know how it feels…”

Art by: Chiara Bautista

I need you to do me a favour
and break my heart please.
I am stepping out into this world,
and I need to know how it feels
to bring down these well-built walls,
to be soft, tender, vulnerable,
naked yet not hiding,
to give someone the power
to crush you and then watch
as they do.

Because the world breeds heartbreak
and I need to know.
I would rather step in broken
than go whole and well,
hopeful and wanting
only to return a shell
of dashed hopes and disenchantment.

More Than Your Numbers

Photograph by: Kyle Thompson

I don’t want to see you as the sum of the numbers that make up your life.

The likes on your selfies, the number of followers you have on Instagram,
how many girls you’ve kissed
or the number of times you’ve held a cigarette between your lips.

I want to know you for all the parts of you that don’t make sense,
for the mess of thoughts you are before the ink bleeds from your pen.
I want to hear all the things you hide
when your friends ask you if everything’s alright.

I want to touch that mark on your skin you got
one day when you thought you weren’t enough.
I want to feel the words she tattooed on your wayward heart
before she upped and left you in parts.

I don’t want you to strut your stats
(5o likes for a photo of your feet in blue waters)
and think that I care for your numbers.
I don’t care; I’ve never been good at maths.

No, I want to see that beautiful mess of a soul,
and lose myself in all the mysteries it holds.

Figuring Out Who You Are


Art by Gunseli Sepici

You toss and turn the night away,
as if hoping that the movement will
cause all that’s wrong inside,
to finally fall back into place.

You’re restless, breathless and hopeless.
And I want to say: “You don’t have to be.”
Because it is when disassembling the pieces of a Lego house
that you have enough parts to create a bigger one.

Everything doesn’t have to be in place all the time,
else it means that things have never moved,
that they have never changed.
But you, you want to evolve.
You want to grow.
You want to be a better you.

So embrace the messiness.
Make out with the idea that you’re a work-in-progress.
We all are.
It’s just that some of us are building foundations,
and others are redoing the paint.
But even then, you never know when
you’ll want to knock the whole thing down
and start all over again.


A Human Paradox

Art by Len-Yan

He was a walking paradox.
Claimed he wanted to explore the world,
but loved to stay in, wearing his warmest socks.

Said he loathed humanity,
but longed for human company.

Could not stand even a breath in his direction,
but would love with breathless, burning passion.

Hated small talk,
but from deep conversations would never balk.

Said he didn’t care what they thought,
and yet an unanswered ‘Hello’ would leave him distraught.

He said he was fine,
and fooled me into not seeing all the signs.

He said he was fine,
but I shouldn’t have believed that line.

Because now he’s gone,
and I understand too late that he was lying all along.

Afraid of the Road, Scared of Life.

Art by Anna Katrin Karlsson

It is silent and lonely.
He stands, a solitary figure in the darkness.
He wants to take a step forward,
but before him the road diverges into different paths.
He cannot see where they lead,
does not know how far along they go.

So because he is afraid,
he does not move.
He stays at this crossroads,
because this is safe.
This is better than the unknown.

But sometimes, as he watches another lone soul
walk down one of these paths,
he wonders how long he will be there for.

Lazy Day

Illustration Credits: Fernanda Schallen

Today…is a lazy day,
and gravity has made it a point to keep me in bed.

From the open window, the sky-blue curtains flutter,
and the clouds seem too comfortable to want to move,
even if they have to.
The sun is still stretching, yawning at the new day.

Today, I don’t want to fight.
I can’t think of demons and darkness;
I’m too busy doing nothing.
Too busy remembering the summer
from that day I flew a kite,
or that summer, one day at the beach,
floating effortlessly on top of the rolling waves,
thinking about one day in the distant future.
Maybe that day is now.

I’m not happy all the time.
But today, I am.
And it would be a damn shame to ruin it by moving.
So I snuggle deeper into the fluffiness of my blanket,
and fall back happily into Nature’s pace.