#prosepoetry

your skin, and heart, raw and bleeding

The tip of my toes grazed the cold surface of the ground whenever I tried to skid through. A slick of sweat ran down the center of my back. I was breathing hard, my chest constricting with every breath

The truths we utter half-awake.

I took this photo in Praia do Carneiro, Portugal in 2018. I took this photo in Praia do Carneiro, Portugal in 2018. I took this photo in Praia do Carneiro, Portugal in 2018. I took this photo in Praia

A prose-poetry from Encanto's Soundtrack Surface Pressure: about what we hide and the things that keeping us shut.

There are two faces of a book, so as our mother's tales, and if you'll look at our childhood, there are as well.

A self-care list for people who are in-lack of courage and confidence. We are all unique in our own way.

Acceptance comes with a great prize so does being alive. Solely for the people who doubt themselves, you are beautiful.

A Loner's Weep is a tale of a girl who suffered depression at an early age and how she survived life up to this moment.

When I close my eyes, beauty stands beckoning to me imploring me to embrace her. Butterflies and fireflies vie for my attention. Roses and waterlilies rock to the rhythm and the music of the trees yearning

The waves of the Indian Ocean hit the rocks hard. For the rocks, it's just a pleasant, subtle touch. Like the droplets of a cold drink touching the lips, giving them a hint of coolness. It also won't go

Pull it out of the teeth, the everlasting sigh of a dolphin escorting the sun into the cup of the horizon. Drink my lips for the music that it promises . Sitting on that rocking chair, my grandfather's

We move, gently down the slope, a slip of a boy, a girl with lots of hair. We flit through the magical noon–bees & butterflies, thrushes & swallows, tall grasses shaking their fat stalks, the placid

Over the squidgy granular sand; that is too difficult to walk in, I try to follow- from one step to the next - those firm eroded footprints, left one by one, alone, along the wavering line that meets the

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It was almost midnight. Sam woke with a start, with a heart beating like a marathon racer's. His body resembled that of a rain-drenched hen and his breaths could easily pass him for a teenager recovering