Clarice Lispector, Tr. By Ronald W. Sousa, The Passion According To G.H.

Franny Choi, The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On

-August.

all my midnights are like this, loveless and soulless.

                                                    Untitled

I’ll not love you in songs,

My love will be shown to you by writing poems on your name.

Sports aren’t something I’m keen about,

But for sure I’ll gaze at you as most beautiful prize while you watch your favourite game.

I wonder if you’ll know how love is shown in books,

Would you be able to see me beyond my appearance, my looks?

In this field of affection I’m a beginner,

Getting your presence in my life will make me the most successful winner.

I’m just an unsolved puzzle with no clues,

But I can promise to cheer you up whenever you’re feeling blue.

I would love to become the reason behind your smile,

I don’t desire for big gesture but holding your hands through every aisle.

I wonder if it would be like fairy tales.

But wait, if Romeo-Juliet is your favorite rom-com then we might not click,

Because I grew up listening tales about Ram-Sita, Radhe-Krishn, Muna-Madan which makes you lovesick.

I could not give you expensive gifts to keep or wear,

 All I have to offer is affection, admiration, respect, trust, and care.

Books-of-insecurities

she is beautiful.

they envy her.

her face is as graceful as swan.

but they do not know all the scars in her cheeks are cleaned by the tears pouring down every night.

and her hands, they are burned, just like the clouds during sunset.

because tears are then fallen onto the hands and the flame of the skin has heated the drops in an extent that they are as fiery as lava.

her eyes resembles purity which her body defeatedly denies.

despite the grudges she hides beneath that skin, she look flawlessly perfect, indistinguishablely a moon.

-Aakriti.

broken glasses and broken hearts are

shattered in the sky, bare and uneven

darkest and coldest every night

my skin still feels the heat of burn

our love begun with tulips and red roses

these days it seems our garden is withered

we promised to protect eachother

now i am blind and everything is blurred.

all my dusks and daws were tears

and i bathed heavily in your thoughts

i was in the delusion of our perfection

little did i know, there were unseen spots

we are the culprit and we did the crime

there is no one else to blame

i did love you with all that I had

and you burned me with your flame

~august.

December 1, 1928 The early diary of Anaïs Nin, 1903-1977

There seems to be a lot of good and beauty happening in my life and in the lives of the people around me.

I don't know if there's just a lot of excess luck in the air, but I channeled the Good Vibes into this Wizard Froggo.

✨🐸 May they bless you with similarly good vibes. 🐸✨

there's always something i hide, something i whisper to myself at middle of the night.

-august/fictionflaws

TODAY I'M 19.