She is a box of roses
Wrapped in coffee stained newspapers
That you press under cups
Every time they sail with the wind
To hide the stories of abuse they print.
Every word your mouth exhales is capsuled in hate.
That fill her pockets so heavily
That she drowned into nothingness.
She looks at the stars and wishes them to consume her
She looks at her reflection and is surrounded by
Filters to filter out
what they reject to call beauty.
Those crystals of herself, strained and censored
Dangle like yellow autumn leaves separating from a tree
That descend to the ground,
dusted with self doubt.
But when the night shines
and the piercing city lights are dim,
I will show you the brightness you carry within.
Reach out to me on instagram @ekanika_shah