Lessons #2392

                   

        (These are my Instagram writings from the account @hyperbolemuch)

               

An Ode To Butterflies (In My Stomach)

I gave birth to mass populations of you

With each razor-sharp, 

Puddle-shallow breath in

And breath out.

The first time I had a crush.

I’ve nursed families and tribes of you,

Every time I’ve really

Really 

Really 

Really liked someone,

And they walked by 

And said “hi” to me.

Hi.

Hi!

I’ve held baby showers for you,

Given you names, like “ImDying Inside”

There’s, “OhMyGod DidWeJustMakeEyeContact”

And, “OhMyGod” “OhMyGod Junior”, “OhMyGod Senior”

Like needy, rowdy kids you’ve,

Raised hell with your fluttering around.

Pressing your downy, feathery bodies 

Hard into the anxious lining of my stomach,

Each damn time 

I even try to play it cool.

Just before I’m about to speak

The beating of your wings

Drowns out the sound of 

Blood in my veins,

And I forget how society,

Usually responds to “Hi”.

Restless kids, you’re out of control

And sometimes take up so much room,

I forget to eat.

And drink too fast.

Which is why I wonder why people

Say you’ll soon be extinct.

Don’t they know I’ve hidden colonies of you,

Deep inside 

The caves of my stomach?

Age be damned,

You’re how I’ll know at 60

That I’m young and alive.

(Picture credit @ballerinaproject_) 

*****

And no one ever told you 

That being young meant

A folding inside,

Starting over,

Stopping swiftly,

Inhaling shyly,

Exhaling frantically 

And letting go

Always four seconds too soon.

                       (Gorgeous picture composition by @ballerinaproject_ with the lovely @katieboren1)

                                                                                          ***

                                                      

  

I took your idea of beauty and smeared my freckles over it. I took the conditions you placed on love and smudged  the "You Sign Here" space with my bleeding heart. 

Straight across. 

I bought expensive art and ran a magic marker in three different squiggles, symmetrically around its edges. 

I took this world, broken and bent and hopeful and taught it how to wear its organs inside out, to prevent being misunderstood. 

I made it all mine.

   

                                    

Lessons# 8768

             (These are my Instagram writings from the account @hyperbolemuch)

 

Of all the Sundays

I spent in bed,

My favourite were

The ones I

Slow-danced with you, 

In my head.

You curved my back 

and dipped me low,

Unconditioned ends of my hair 

brushing the floor.

Free-spun the orange smeared

Evening and pulled her

Between our entangled limbs.

Nursing and keeping

6oclock alive, 

longer 

Than it was advised.

Don't worry darling;

The city never noticed,

They were too busy 

Running their errands.

(Picture credit: The heartbreaking account @ballerinaproject with the gorgeous @sarahjjames)

*******

I'll twist my body

Into a question mark.

I'll bend over

As soft as a sigh.

I'll turn myself

Organs out,

All for Love. All for Love.

And the only way,

Love will take me down

Is mid-dance.

(Picture credit: @ballerinaproject)

***

Fire may sear and brand your skin, but it's winter that slithers into the caves of your bones. At first snowflakes tingle and taste warm on your tongue, while icy winds lick secrets onto your ear. And then one day, you wake up having no memory of how to care about disease, starvation, heartache or anything other than the wretched temperature outside your window.

(Picture credit: Pictured above is New Jersey. Shot by my talented friend @kloseframe)

(For more, find me on Instagram: @hyperbolemuch)

Lessons #6868

(Instagram uploads from @hyperbolemuch)

All the people you've 

Ever loved

And ever touched.

Turned into those stars above.

Those you lost along the way,

Those who stopped 

But did not stay.

The ones who tried

To live in and conquer you.

The ones who were

Just trespassing through.

Some you carry like 

Beating aches inside.

Some whose secrets 

You bury deep and hide.

Some still living 

In strange countries.

Others buried and burnt

Into familiar sleep.

The freckled sky

Is stitched together

Clumsily, only for you,

Night after night.

Always both gloomy

and way too bright.

It wants you to 

Look straight up at 

the shimmering carbons. 

They're burning and shining 

A story the 

Ancients left behind:

"We're all here

We're all still here". 

(Subject inside this stunning picture, my friend @supriyasodhi . Picture Credit @abhishekgaurav. Gulmarg, 2015)

Earthing is what protects structures from lightning strikes. And there I was mid-air, pouring my body of flesh, memories and exposed nerves recklessly into you. Without a thought on how the current would split me into two ~hyperbolemuch . 

(Picture credit my fav Instagram feed @ballerinaproject_ with the stunning @julietdoherty)

Lessons #4736

Of all the things that tore us apart

A few were:

Geography.

Different time-zones.

Your scattered affections.

My hysterically intense ones. 

Your awful taste in movies. 

My contemporary-only bias for fiction. 

But mostly because

You want a piece of the sky

And I want the whole damn ocean.

(Phi Phi Islands, 2014)

*********

Don't look to the waves 

For lessons on leaving.

They never understood,

That truly letting go 

Meant never turning back.

(Goa, 2014)

(I long for old vacations and write poems on my Instagram feed- @hyperbolemuch)