#28. Why want Leap Years

#28. Why want Leap Years

Every year,

I get to see you for

365.25 days.

But on leap years,

I get to see you

an extra, full day

and it’s the most cherished day

ever, in my life.

Sorry about this one.

And it’s a wrap!

We’ve partially successfully completed attempting the Spring Palette for The Heart, and we hope to see you soon again!

And I really hope to get better in writing poems. I’ve loved doing it but I know there’s immense scope for improvement. I can’t wait to find more prompts and attempt them, so until then, hang on!

#27. Swathed in green

#27. Swathed in green

Green clouds my eyes whenever I see someone talking to you.

No, it’s not that I’m too possessive of you,

it’s just that…I love you so much.

I don’t want you to know the dangers lurking around the corners,

those people willing to stab your back,

or those that will break your trust,

or you, for that matter.

All I ever want is your happiness,

so, why did you leave me?

This is the Spring Palette for the Heart, by Parvathi and Me.

#26. Wish you…Nope

#26. Wish you…Nope

Things have been hard for me.

I’ve been stabbed, from the back,

from the front

but you still expect me to smile at you

and make you happy.

I’ve been pulled down into a crevice,

a deep, deep gash in the world

but I’m still trying to hold on make the world a better place

for the future.

So, for some people,

there are things that I don’t wish for.

But for people like you,

I try not to think about at all.

This is the Spring Palette for the Heart, by Parvathi and Me.

 

#25. Unconscious doodles

#25. Unconscious doodles

Before, I hated drawing.

I despised artists; I thought art was a waste of time.

I mean, a “painting” wish some red streaks and splashes becomes famous?

For what, like those red streaks were somewhat very purposeful?

Phshhhhh. Puh’lease. Like it matters.

But now, I can’t stop my pencil from moving about.

From restaurant paper napkins to exam sheets,

everything was covered in hearts.

all kinds of hearts, filled, empty.

Coloured, patterned.

Ends touching.

Ends hollow.

It was all because of this one artist that I grew up with,

who taught me, unintentionally, that all people,

all hearts, collectively, individually

are pieces of art

when brought together, makes up the universe.

Something new.

This is the Spring Palette for the Heart, by Parvathi and Me.

 

 

#24. Bleak, blue and Polaroid

#24. Bleak, blue and Polaroid

It’s a nice day outside.

the Sun finally decided to show up after weeks of incessant rain.

I decide to drag myself out of bed and

to the park near by, with a book where

I can sit down and read as long as it gets dark.

I go over to my dresser, to make my hair look

a little presentable and whatever zeal I had in me,

to go out and enjoy fresh air, crumbled and powdered

and was blown away because

the memory of you still haunts me

and the edges of my mirror.

Still trying.

This is the Spring Palette for the Heart, by Parvathi and me.

 

#14. Smudged

My hands find her eyes from behind the big arm chair and close over them.

She doesn’t let go of the book she’s reading; instead I feel her smile and rolling her eyes.

I laugh and put my lips to her ear lobes, tenderly kissing and biting it. I move over to her forehead, without losing contact with her skin.

I release my hands over her eyes, kissing them, then moving to her nose, her cheeks.

I find her mouth, but i don’t kiss it. I move down, towards her exposed shoulder and neck and collar bone.

As soon as my lips touches her neck, she moans. I’m a goner.

She pulls me closer, and I have to move towards the front, which, frankly, is how i should’ve started in the first place.

I take her book out of her hand and toss it behind me. She protests a bit, but when i find her soft spot, I made sure all she thought about was me.

And this moment.

Something I kept imagining in class instead of listening. I wish I went at least halfway, but I like it here, like this.

This is the Spring Palette for the Heart, by Parvathi and Me.