As I cut the onions, mashed the tomatoes Heated the oil, brought the water to boil Sautéed the garlic, Threw in the macaroni I realised, something else was cooking Because the soup wasn’t good-looking And the pasta was under.   But their clutter was the only dialogue That cleared the smoke.   The conflict that rose and settled Bandaged what was broke.   Nobody wanted it, the soup   It was cooked after dinner-time   In a rush, fifteen minutes to be precise   Everyone had it, to be nice   Alas, somebody had to digest   That whirlwind of a storm   Or it would lie hovering on my kitchen top Besides my mind.   And I would keep ruminating over it   Like I did the raw bell peppers   In a bid to make sense   Of our reel in rewind.  

And so I walked in a haze   Light like the wind, Heavy as a wave.   I walked by everything that preceded me   Along everything that followed.   I traced every path, graced every ground   Where I left a trail, an unapologetic mark   Places I didn’t have reason to go to   Faces I shouldn’t have held so close.   I revisited every grave I sealed shut   Ripping up every bone from the gravel.   And just like that, I was faced with the fabric of my existence – Woven indelicately by me, by my destiny   I had questions but I was immune too long, had scars that never hurt. Not once. I had an ignition to keep walking   But my heart pounded heavily.   My mind directed me, yet again   To chase a worthier world   One that already had its home and heath in my head, that which I never found my welcome in.   And so I walked on,   For every step I found caution,   Every aspiration was deemed a mistake.   But while the most pristine, carefully crafted d

I do not want to feel it; But every early morning A certain restlessness creeps into my bed   Gently stroking the surface of my head Sending down tingles of misery, Paralysing every trinket of hope. What could it be, I wonder Desperately finding a way around the fact But alas, temporary consolation Is now falling short in covering the act It has been you, just you Victorious, both in capturing my fancy   And making me feel inadequate.   You, and your uninhibited ways - Refreshing and reckless, And nonchalant (and demeaning) demeanour   Were never for me.   How could I be so wrong?   When I saw you then, I thought about possibilities When I see you now,   I think about my flaws. I do not want to feel it; But I feel resentment. For wounding me in your own strange way For making it seem like it will never go away And for lingering and hovering like a bunch of moths   Around any found remnants of light. But fortunately,