Wednesday, 23 July 2014


She sat lotus-style on the slightly muddied, wet earth. Scooping it out, she noticed  pebbly bits nestled inside her fingernails turning her pearly manicured tips yellowed and brown.
For now though, there was work to be done.

Using both her hands she lifted the heavy black lid and sat staring at what was inside.
Her right arm gently ran across the brittle surface, while she angled the flash-light in her mouth as she went back to her notes.


Childhood Scabs (mostly found near the knee and the elbows)

“Pick up tomatoes” (scribbled across a palm)

Last kisses

Memories of favourite pets

False bravado

Too may adventures

Too few adventures

Fading tattoos

Songs sung out of tune


Smell of walks in the beach

Unkind fights

Afternoons of making love

Recurring nightmares

Un-flossed teeth

Caves of regrets

First loves

Last loves

Unexpressed loves

The smell of rain

Summer vacations from the 16th year

All their Idols

All their Gods

All their doubts about their Idols and their Gods

Each time skin touched skin

The feverish rush to own a perfect body

Crazed joy at eating cake

Bad Decisions

Worlds of regret

Stains of nicotine across their chests

Every despised Monday

Falling wildly in love

Recklessly losing love

8 glasses of water a day, sometimes 12

Jumbled knots of beliefs

Plants that were watered on time

Too few deep breaths

“What Dead People Are Made Of
- She scribbled on top of her notes and slammed her book shut. 
The paper was due tomorrow and her nails needed a fresh coat of polish.

{ Suggested Listening- This gorgeous song }

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