I kissed a clock

until the time stopped flinching,

like a child turned into

a jellyfish, since

tears and water are

somewhat chemically same.

Then I painted my heartbeat

on the wings of a moth,

like a cry transforming

into a violin, because

music is a thunderstorm

angels create for fun.

I wore dusk

as a dress sewn by blind saints.

The sun bowed at my hem,

begging to be forgiven

for always leaving early.

A giraffe walked into my kitchen

and said,

“You’ve mistaken hunger for memory.”

So I fed it all my lullabies

and watched it sleep

in the arms of my shadow.

I whispered my name

into a glass of milk

and drank it slowly,

hoping to understand

what world was before

the laws of nature explained.

My bones sent postcards

to old lovers,

written in languages

only flowers could read, while

sky folded itself into a paper boat.

And when a star remembering

how it was once a lighthouse,

it decided to visit me

So that together we can

teach birds to fall

without grieving.


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