by Sarah Chaudhry
Love me a good place to hide,
a place to silence my cries, conceal my laughter, and encase my bruised heart under lock and key.
The heart, oh what a creation with it’s capacity for pain and love as it lives to be a collection of blackened
blue bruises with as many stories as shades of colors that are too exposed,
worn on too many sleeves.
So here comes the time to hide,
where I can light cigarettes and relinquish catharsis and its lit spark all to myself,
where I can dance under the rain and no one will look at me strangely,
where I can watch from dusk to dawn the world without its hate and be contemporary with the strange
rock they call Earth.