I Realize in the Midst of a Health Pandemicthat I am Young and Deservea Non-Apocalyptic WorldBy Srishti Uppal
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my father was / banging my mother’s skull into walls / before i was ever born / all my best friends are old people / i will outlive and grieve / forever / i was a good girl / i shaved my legs / covered my shoulders / lied about getting the scars on my arm playing with the dog / i have been yelled at for 18 yrs now / so much bad had passed me by i forgot half of it so it wouldn't / kill my brain / i have not been fucked / to the sounds of the rain yet / i have not lived / yet / i have been too busy trying to not die / but only slowly decay / i have had a thousand rock bottoms / i am waiting for the it gets better / all my poetry has been painful and cold and autobiographical / i deserve fantasy / i only just began kissing / the corners of the city calling out to me / i have not longed for my room yet / i still starve myself. / i have still not realized that self-love takes a revolution / i have not sat at tables yet / that i felt i deserved to be at / i have never voted. / i deserve more for someone who was never given the chance to better herself / self-actualization comes after procurement of a safe home / the universe has not given me anything yet / the universe has not shown me any kindness softness gentleness yet / i am at the losing end of a bad deal; i am owed a lifetime of potential / god has not apologized to my Lover and i yet / not that we would ever forgive him / perhaps we would [forgive him]; by virtue of being spineless / and bigger-hearted than he / i have not been granted the chance to ruin my life yet / i have never gambled /
there's no one else i'd rather be quiet withBy Srishti Uppal
i want to talk dirty when i have a runny nose. watch you eat burgers flip-side up. i've been sneezing the day's trauma out of me. i think you've caught my flu. we're angry but we kiss soft. overly apologetic for existing authentically. are we being selfish by collapsing into ourselves too apparently? i shrug off your hands twice and ask to have them back. otherwise i might use my fingers to irritate your wounds. it feels good to exist in the silence with you where we make jokes to distract from the numbness. i kid, i kid, numbness is still a feeling. we are sad together. sadder apart. you put your jacket over me because you're only freezing on the inside.
UntitledBy Srishti Uppal
there are simple pleasures in
watching you in daily monotony, watching your eyelashes bat at the dim TV screen, the way fragile flower stems circle the wind, the way the earth breathes imitates the eccentricities of your circadian rhythm; there is something unmissable about the way your spine dances across the city, like the world is your neighborhood, i swear, there is more beauty in the crumbles of your skin when you lie than the truth holds, enough to make me euphoric in my fury, enough for all the pain in the world to pause, and stare. there's joy in watching you run bare feet across the cold floor, the thud, thud, thud, of steps of my heart, my dear, your feet have my heart. your face worn out of exhaustion, i put my palm to your cheek, what a shame for something so sacred to be so distressed what a shame, your beauty is only mine to see, under heavy blankets that muffle our voices my love, my voice is an echo-chamber of your praises, anything less extreme is a disservice i bob my head to your yawns, listening to you exist, more than to your words your existence sounds like climbing up the stairs with your hand in mine, stepping into puddles the rain unapologetically abandoned, & re-dressing me reluctantly. Srishti Uppal is a nineteen-year-old poet and essayist from New Delhi, India. She is Editor-in-Chief of Teen Belle Magazine. Her work may be found in Royal Rose, Crepe and Penn, and Human/Kind Journal, among others. You can follow her on Twitter @UppalSrishti or Instagram @Srishtiuppal_.
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