Somewhere in the middle.

I don’t want to go home but

I feel disoriented

Neither here nor there.

Take me anywhere

A beach for a day, but I like the winter too

Take me home Ill be with my family that’s all I need it’s true

But Ill be bored again, so time to pack my suitcase

and return to the life where I find comfort in certain parts of this mirror maze

Neither here nor there

take me anywhere

Tie a string to my soul and pull it towards the sky

Into infinite stars, but keep me away from their light

then lets go further, just a bit more

Beyond the seas and beyond the shores

to the tip of the earth, the end of the world

Into eternity, but thats not my comfort

Im fleeting, temporal, cascading, running

With no area giving me a sense of belonging

Because I am not a child of this world

My soul belongs to the realms of the heavens above the earth.


She’s a bright purple sunshine.

How can I express

my gratitude

for a woman

who marches with an attitude

Her love shines as bright as the purple sunshine

that she radiates everywhere she struts

Her warmth and comfort

While she silently sobs

Such a sparkle in her eye

Such a sparkle in her face

A unique mixture of sass and grace

A woman bound to success, I tell you

Never have I met such a kind soul

One with a heart so wise and old

But her mind still grows, and yet she forgets

that she isn’t an adult yet

Responsibility on her shoulders, while ignoring the depression clouding her head

While she consoles others, and simply finds comfort snuggling in her bed

A soul, I pray for, to be eternally blessed

Because she is a personality unlike the rest.



Midnight Moonshine

I looked at the moon, my teardrops glistening in its light,

The sky stained with a dark purple ink

No star tonight.

Its me and my moon.

We look at each other, I absorb its wisdom into my face

My eyes become those of a black cat, two silver streaks across my pupils

Its the crescent

My body, naked, wrapped in a sheet of cold, cool wind

My hair, twisting and turning ever so softly on my back

The air, seeping through my nostrils to the pit of my lungs, taking a somersault and returning back to the sky

The midnight sky

The dark purple, starless, midnight sky.

While he looks at me, and smiles

Its a child, enjoying her enlightening night.

So who are you?


So who are you?

Hiding under my roof under my protection

Layers on your soul that go beyond your skin

Ripping out each and every emotion from within

Telling me your love for me is genuine?

So who are you?

Someone who’s been traumatized and disrespected

Or so you told me

And i gave you my undying company

And i prayed for you

and I will pray for you

because I don’t know you,

Other than the words from your mouth and your facial expressions

I don’t know anything about you

I thought I did

but now I don’t

What a depressing irony

Because if I counted the hours we spent and what those meant

It felt real.

But I don’t know anymore, do I?

It’s vague and blurred

and we’re confused and hurt

So I pray for you

I will pray for you

But don’t ever meet me again.



An Indian baby in the Canadian Weather

I put on the soft knit, pearl white sweater while I look out of my dorm room and sigh

It’s 8:00 am, and the skies are grey, the dry autumn leaves now drenched in rainwater

While I conceal my dark circles and put away the coconut oil

Coconut oil that’s become this hardened, thick, paste.

My foods don’t need a refrigerator anymore

The pleasant petrichor fills the air

And I walk towards the art gallery

With my shoes, because of course, who needs fancy slippers in the cold weather

In my soft knit, pearl white sweater

And I pause

There’s no cool breeze

A few drops of water vapour in the air

From the puddles of rain that fell last night

I feel the tiniest prick

And I look further

And there stands the sun.

I’m flabbergasted.

As I walk slower so as to not let myself sweat and destroy my perfect sweater

I get closer to the cafeteria and I..smell…is that?….sambar?

My brain tells me, it’s just the weather hun, you’re hallucinating


Oh I wouldn’t mind making coconut chutney out of the coconut hair oil I’ve carefully preserved on my shelf.

And now the sun pierces my skin

I am so foreign to this weather.

And I suppose so are Canadians, as they walk out of the subway station in their fur coats and leather jackets.

And for some reason, the background music in this office makes me feel like sitting in an Indian breakfast restaurant, while the waiters generously pour filter coffee into my cup

You only find North Indian food here.

Thick naan and Punjabi food.

Not that I don’t like it!

But, does anyone know what it’s like to be from the south?


I think I’m a tad bit homesick now.