the gossip book

secrets are meant to be spilled

To the secrets that have kept me going for years. I am my truest self because of you.

i. spill my guts

ii. india

iii. stranger things

i. spill my guts

secrets

some secrets are kept ‘till a dying breath

when life is being pushed out from

inside you

when the whispers of love, lust, and loss

refuse to settle in between a

damaged diaphragm or

bruised bone

the secrets that have made home

in your body

curled up in chrysalis

tightly wound, content in their

secrecy 

to be thought of every now

and again

but never touched

never seen

never heard

never hurt

what if we measure ourselves in secrets

how many of them lay hosted in you?  

little renaissances

if my insides were splayed across a wall

could you

count my little

renaissances

count them all?

beginnings

can we start over? i want to bump into you at the bar again, pretend to laugh at your jokes, and steal you away. can i live in the dirty perfume for a moment longer? it was safer then. when you didn’t know me or my anxiety. when i didn’t know you or your secrets. when we could walk past each other and never look back. when the string that pulled you to me was so thin, i could tug it this way and that. can we start over?

free

everything rises

from ash and rubble

from days

you thought

were only trouble

now it’s clear

we’re supposed to be

aimless

there is no

room for order

we’re meant to

live shameless

in between

love

my flaws

blemishes

spots

and

scars

mild

melanin

valleys

that have waged

battles

and

wars

what

is ugly

about

wounds

and

bruises

the marks

she gains

equate

the

beauty

she

loses

see me for more

see for my

peaks

falls

dreams and

nightmares

see me

for my

fleeting

love affairs

if

you see me

and

can see through me

and still

chose

to stay

then meet

me

between

the bushes

in between

genders

and let’s

play

us

yesterday

 i told the moon

  about

   the two

    of us

she told the stars

 and

  of course

   they made

    a big fuss

now i look up

 at the sky

  every now

   and again

to hear

 them

  whispering,

   i know when

the times

 we’re

  silent

   and the

    world is

     hushed

remember

 we’ve

  got

   at least

    a million

     eyes

      on

       us

home enough

soothe my worries

with your honey coated words

say all the things

i want to hear

maybe you’ll stay in this hotel heart -

don’t mind the:

used up tissues

tv static

dirty laundry

unmade bedding

broken trust

a temporary residence

bound by a love that was born from

the darkest of times

where light is afraid to go

you’ve made yourself a guest

in this void

and called it

home-enough.

ii. india

grandma's words

spill off her tongue like seeds

blossoming into metaphors

i only half-understand

seated on beds woven by hand

each stitch tells a story

much more profound than this one

in the rush of rain

i run upstairs, lehenga in both hands

a futile attempt at keeping dry

when we both know i just

want to be wet

locking eyes across the terrace

enveloped in this storm  

and then his embrace

a silent lover, we danced and danced

when the rain died, we did too

stepping back into safety

jumping off a moving bus

seemed like a good idea

i’d seen it in the movies

it’s romantic

fun

exhilarating

oddly secure?

assuming someone would catch me

i have no lover, no friend, no faith

my aunt told the driver to slow it down

so i could have my moment

walked through shelves of sarees

they mirror the colors

of every woman in Guntur

one with lighter skin: didn’t have rupees for college

another with speckled skin: married off to a laborer

one fiery red: wants to go to America

one folded neatly: birthed three kids at age 19

none are perfect, all are beautiful

listening to grandmother

she tells tales so grand

so fantastical

i wonder if she lived in them

as well

if she conceived this world

full of kings

and made herself

a queen

a noisy village

but what is noisy, really?

is it: busy

hurried

impatient

loud

i think it’s more

rich

bursting

full of culture,

exploding off of

our backs being burned by the sweltering heat

for those

brave enough to play with fire

to catch flame

in the palms of calloused hands

for the culture

how do i tell you? that when you ridicule the color of my skin or the way i roll my tongue, that you are calling onto the same skin that tore itself apart to keep bloodlines together. this tongue that you can’t control has spoken worlds into existence through tales of love and labor. how do i tell you that when you mock my gait, you break the spirit that has been stroked by generations of women who have walked on weathered feet and breathed in pure flame for me. do you know the weight that i carry? do you know? the lives that have lived, eager and exhausted, so that i, maruthi’s daughter, can roam the land of the free and the home of the brave.

take me there

i bring saccharine to my lips, revisiting memories i can only recall in morning light.

but i’ve lost the words to saddened centuries. long forgotten in my simple mind. i see ghosts that drown me and portraits that don’t claim me anymore.

a lost child.

i don’t want to live here. these four walls.

where my body is the only body.

i want to live through lifetimes. study the statues that take home in small houses with metal pots and water pumps. where prayer is said to call on good fortune. where respect is earned not given. where there is only us. spirits that live within each step we take. where mothers and daughters and sisters are bonded by much more than blood. where land is untouched, unbothered, unleashed. the place that pulls me closer every second.

can you take me there? can you bring me home?

iii. stranger things

my ugly picture

why isn’t my picture

perfect

i’ve been crafting it

day and night

all the colors

have been blended

but it’s just not

quite right

i tiled it this way

and now

i tilted it that

i’ve sung it

a song

and

we’ve had a little

chat

but nothing

works

it all looks

vile

maybe it needs

to dry for

a while

i can’t

let it go

and i can’t

wish it away

my ugly picture

is here

to stay

dancing queen

i whisper sweet lullabies

until your eyes close

from exhaustion

and i listen as your

breathing evens out

seconds pass

like seasons

slowly but i’d never

know when they’d

come and gone

i wonder if you’re

dreaming about me

the girl

whose arms you fall into

when everything else

is falling apart

all at once

i’m certain

that she is dancing

in

your dreams

tonight

stranger

i haven’t said your name in so long

i’ve forgotten how it sounds

or feels

rolling along the insides of my mouth

bouncing off the walls of my heart

the one you once held in your hands

the same hands that held mine, brushed my hair back, traced my spine, pulled me close,

and ultimately pushed me away

how foreign

how alien

how unsettling

you’re a stranger around here

lust ‘n love

hey new york

yes you - with the big city lights, the dreams, and the drama.

aren’t you tired of tearing people apart? you claw at them, reaching for every last bit of life, leaving them on their knees, begging for release, and then you set us free.

those city lights that put us all under a microscope. tension. tension. make me smaller.

can you see me under here?

it’s the summer heat that i can’t bear.

the sweat that pools in ugly places.

the stench. the fear. the city smells fear.

and i stink.

wring me out and dry me off

and back to heat i go.

back to the city that swears it loves me

back to the boroughs i go.

living in nyc feels like

[mixing drinks with morning coffee] [brick walls] [staying up to see the sunrise over a broken rooftop] [panic attacks] [losing friends to distance] [microwave ramen] [buying yourself flowers] [missing home] [feeling lost] [wanting to be seen] [meeting neighbors that you love] [seeing them move out] [wanting to love again] [an empty bed] [keys in my pocket] [smoke in the air] [swiping right] [swiping left] [happy pills] [reading] [growing pains] [lost in translation] [3AM missed calls] [writing till i’m numb] [asleep before the sun sets] [moving out]

the other woman

Oh other woman,

You’re killing me

inside.

You follow me endlessly

and now there’s nowhere left

to hide.

Other women, who are you?

the subway surfer

Lady with the bubblegum hair

Sits like a man

Spread open

Tongue out searching for the straw

That dips into her coffee cup

She doesn’t notice me

Noticing her

She leaves at Union

Angry lady with furrowed eyebrows

She sits across from me now

Taking out two phones

I wonder what she uses them for

Is she calling the man

Who put that ring on her finger

Does that ring

Cause her eyebrows

To furrow the way they do

She feels my eyes on her

And lowers her gaze

My fingers dancing away

desperate to document

her, only her.

She has no idea

How captivating she is

Brow lady looks up

And turns the ring

On her finger

Typing furiously

On her own

Screen