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There’s a cemetery in my mind,
Where I lay to rest those who’ve died to me,
Not in the flesh, but in the heart.
I dig graves a million feet deep,
And place their shapeless, faceless forms inside.
I fill each hollow with every fragment of memory,
Layer it with love, in case it soothes their restless spirits.
I plant lilies in the soil above,
So they can become part of something pure and beautiful.
I choose the darkest stone in this mental graveyard,
Etch their names in bold, untaintable letters,
And carve a distant message to them.
So that when I stumble upon these tombstones,
I won’t be tempted to unearth the dead,
Only to let them haunt me as specters of something noxious.

-G.

When they ask if I’ve hooked up,
I get lost in the question.
I’ve been tethered to books,
like a junkie to his fix,
day and night, no break in sight.
I’ve been chained to a character,
dragging him through the dirt with me,
a shadow at my back,
never letting go.

I’ve been stuck in the lines of poems,
where the blues bleed and the warmth’s too fleeting.
I’ve been lost in stories,
ones that burn you slow,
like a cigarette’s last drag,
or the sharp edge of a bottle.

So, when you ask if I’ve hooked up,
I have—
more times than I can count.
But it’s with words and ink,
and I’ve got no plans to quit.
Not tonight. Not ever.

-G.

If I met my 15-year-old self,
I would whisper softly in her ear,
“Don’t love so fiercely, so recklessly,
Don’t give away your heart to those
Who don’t cherish it like you do.

Don’t make others your everything,
For you deserve to be your own priority.
Put yourself first, nurture your soul,
Before you offer pieces of it away.”

If I met my 15-year-old self,
I’d tell her love is not endless,
Not the boundless fantasy she imagines.
It has limits, and it’s okay to acknowledge that.

I’d teach her the power of the word ‘no,’
A simple refusal that holds such strength.
I’d guide her to guard her heart,
To protect her dreams, her essence.

“Dear younger me, remember,
You are worthy of the love you freely give.
Cherish yourself, set boundaries,
And let your heart find its way,
Without losing sight of who you are.”

-G.

There are regrets I don’t regret,
they made me who I am.
I fought with my childhood friend,
she died before I could say sorry.
That fight still haunts me.
But now, I hold onto friendships,
I don’t hurt people for my sake.

Then there was my first love,
straight out of a movie.
Roses, late-night calls,
gifts for every little thing.
I thought it was perfect,
but he broke my heart.
To him, it was just moments,
to me, it was everything.
I needed that,
to learn love has limits.

I let go of my best friend,
I’m not sure what he was to me.
He knew me, found me,
felt like the other end of fate’s thread.
But I let him go,
heart full of love and respect.
There, I learned to let go of the best things in life—
sometimes the best things need their own best things, too.

My second try at love,
no regrets there.
He left me in the dark,
chasing ghosts from his past.
But I’m grateful.
I thought I couldn’t love again,
turns out I’ve got plenty left.

Every time I was let down,
I got forged in heat.
Now, I’m this person—
with lots of love to give,
spending it mostly on myself,
the kind of love I never received—
which I plan to give myself.

Thank you, regrets. Your every let down has been my stepping stone.

-G.

We chase the sparks, the fleeting flames,
In a world that plays deceptive games.
We’re told to seek the gilded prize,
The wealth, the looks, the social ties.

But chemistry, though fierce and bright,
Is not the key to love’s true light.
Success, they say, will bring delight,
Yet leaves us yearning in the night.

Social media paints a tale,
Of status high, and hearts for sale.
Culture whispers in our ear,
To chase the hard-to-get, my dear.

But lies they spin, with silken thread,
A path that leaves us cold instead.
For love that’s built on shallow ground,
Is love that’s lost, not truly found.

In highs and lows, we lose our way,
In endless search, we go astray.
The highs will fade, the lows will sting,
And yet we yearn for what they bring.

But if we seek a love that’s real,
With hearts that care, and souls that feel,
We’ll find a place where we belong,
In steady beats, our hearts’ true song.

So let us seek what’s pure and kind,
A love that grows, a love that binds.
For in the end, it’s not the show,
But depth of heart that makes love glow.

-G.

we met through the hands
of parents, aligning pieces
of our separate puzzles.
he is a nice guy,
interests folding into each other
like origami cranes.

we both sought refuge
from the chaos, shunning
the circus of social media.
writers, anime lovers,
growing up with eyes wide
at screens that told tales
we couldn’t share with anyone else.

we loved each other’s stories,
yet I build my walls,
brick by brick,
and he, the patient carpenter,
chips it away, day by day.

today, as I apologized
for my fortress, he asked,
“who hurt you like this?”

and in the silence
that followed,
his words echoed,
a haunting refrain,
unearthing ghosts
I thought I’d buried
long ago.

-G.

I am not afraid of dying,
But I whisper, not yet—
For I haven’t tasted life in its entirety,
Only lived it in fractured halves.

I’ve wandered through shadows of love,
Half-loved, never whole—
A heart that knew only pieces
Of what it means to feel full.

Half-dreams left in moonlight’s wake,
Half-promises that time forgot,
I yearn for days unbroken,
For nights that hold nothing back.

To dance in the sun without shadow,
To sing with an unchained voice,
To breathe in the world’s colors,
And finally make a choice—

To grasp the moments fleeting,
Let them fill the empty spaces,
Until I overflow with life,
And death finds me fully embraced.

So I say to time, just wait,
Let me savor the journey still,
For I don’t wish to part this world
Until I’ve lived my fill.

-G.

I used to be a weight
dragging someone down,
a heavy sigh
on a weary afternoon.

but now,
I’m a wildflower
in someone else’s garden,
battered by the same storms,
yet eager to grow.

we sit in the dim light,
trading stories
like old currency,
laughing at the absurdity,
finding beauty
in the broken pieces.

two wandering souls,
with scars like maps,
building something
that feels like home.

-G

I’m damaged,
cracked like a bottle
thrown against a brick wall,
each shard reflecting
the twisted mess of things
that came before.

I know the source,
the place where pain took root,
where innocence met its end
and trust shattered
like a flimsy mirror
under a hammer’s blow.

I carry the weight,
but I won’t pass it on—
won’t let this burden breed,
won’t forge another chain
of suffering.

I know the taste of brokenness,
the sting of betrayal,
the hollow ache
that lingers in the night.

I’ll keep my wounds,
patch them up with poetry,
with books and my kind of music,
but I’ll never inflict the same
on anyone else.

I refuse to be the villain
in someone else’s story.
I’ll take my damage
and wear it like armor,
a reminder of what I’ll never do,
what I’ll never be.

-G

I notice the crow’s feet at the corners of my eyes,
Those wrinkles that remind me of all the times I genuinely smiled and laughed.
In my late 20s, they’re already there, telling tales of heartfelt joy.
I never imagined wanting a wrinkle like this on my face.
I want this wrinkle to deepen,
I want to smile more, laugh louder.

– G

There’s a peace
in silence,
a finality
that says more
than words ever could.

I fight not out of anger,
but because I still care,
and each shout, each jab,
is just a way
to show I’m here,
I’m in it
with you.

But when I’m done,
when the fire’s out,
there’s nothing left to say.

I’ll sit,
let the quiet settle,
and watch
the dust of our battles
finally fall.

Because the fight
was the love,
and silence
is the end of it all.

-G

Nobody owns me anymore.
I took back the key they held
like a lifeline,
tight in their fists,
like they owned something
they had no business claiming.

I changed the lock,
sealed the door,
made sure there were no spare keys
tucked away in their pockets,
no skeletons to slip in
when the moon’s high.

I am my own keeper now,
not a piece on their board,
not a prize to be won,
but a wild thing,
unshackled and strange,
running free under a sky
that belongs to no one.

I’ve stitched my heart back together
with the threads of solitude,
patched the holes
with quiet defiance,
and learned to love the echo
of my own voice
bouncing off the walls
of this newfound sanctuary.

Nobody owns me.
And in this chaos,
I find my peace,
my broken pieces,
mended with the resolve
of a thousand storms survived,
and the silent promise
to never hand over the key
again.

-G

Beneath the earth, I water the shrubs above,

My body mingled with the soil, finally free.

Now, I become the daisies and lilies,

My essence embraced by the blossoms’ bloom.

Honey bees will sip parts of me,

Carrying my essence from flower to flower,

I will be part of new beginnings.

In the showers of rain, I shall dissolve,

Mingling with the droplets that nourish the earth,

I will ride the winds as a whisper,

A speck in the gentle breeze, softly heard.

Everywhere, in every element, I will be,

Fulfilling the wish to be omnipresent.

The roots of trees will drink of me,

Strengthening trunks and sprouting new leaves.

Birds will nest in the branches above,

Singing songs with the energy of my soul.

In the cycle of life, I find my peace,

Becoming all, in a perpetual embrace.

Eternal and boundless, my journey unfolds,

From the soil to the sky, in every crevice,

I scatter myself in endless ways,

Unseen, but felt in the heartbeat of nature.

In this unity, I am whole,

Everywhere, just as I always dreamed to be.

-G

I never believed I was beautiful. Being the dork in the Indian household, I felt unappreciated (not that it bothered me). No matter how stunning the dresses they adorned me in, I never felt beautiful, even when complimented, until that moment.

It was a quiet evening at Isha. I was sitting there with T., watching the night sky—our favorite pastime. Unbeknownst to me, while I gazed at the stars, he was watching me. When I turned to him with a puzzled, “What?” in that typical Indian way, he simply said, “You’re so beautiful.” For the first and only time in my life, I felt beautiful. I wished there were cameras to capture that moment because, for once, I truly felt it. This is coming from a person who hates being infront of cameras.

He looked at me with the same softness and shine in his eyes that he reserved for the moon and stars. If only I could freeze that moment and keep it forever! I was beautiful on April 7th, 2022, at 7:23 PM. I wasn’t beautiful before that moment, and I haven’t felt beautiful since.

-G.