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By Sanjana K Shenoy

I refuse to believe that anyone can put into words how much I love, love itself.

But I am going to try anyway.

Love the first element of life, the only antidote, the ugly fool.

Love. that silver streak of moonlight, dipped in golden honey, sprinkled with stardust.

Love the only escape, the crackling of butterscotch, the pouring of rain, the fluttering of butterflies, skin bones and veins.

Love graffiti on the sidewalk, 90s vinyl, mountain dew breath, unknown roads, and kiwi lip-gloss.

Love till tomorrow and afterwards, till the beginning of the end. Love


the twisted bones of your clenched jaw, the one bloody fingertip that stains every place you have ever been to.

the freckles on your body like pinpoints on a map that guide a lost wanderer towards home.

the brown in your eyes like shredded chocolate, your hair like the daunting tidal waves, I was always told not to approach.

the scar that tells stories of when once you were at the wrong place at the wrong time, or of when you were just a reckless curious child.

your heart like a sugar cube that can sometimes crumble but never lose it is sweetness.

you. a bundle of stories unknown.

fill my ears with those, for they always crave for more.

By Sanjana K Shenoy

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