My feminism trembles
with fear as I look
at another girl
more beautiful than me
you see it will never
be true feminism
until every girl believes
that mirror is
just another illusion
showing their
distorted image

caging them inside
their own bodies
like the doves which
fly in confinement
thinking the bars
to be the trees
and the air inside
as the only sky
as the wind of
pseudo feminism flows

nudging the girls like you
and me
towards this new “ism”
with a broken confidence
they seek their
validation in the groups
where flawless skin
and a perfect smile
become symbol
of empowerment
though of bodies
rather than minds

feminism does start at home
but in front of mirror
where fathers make
their daughters’ hair
and tell them beauty
is how they see themselves
despite what mirror shows.

There is this man I love

There is this man I love
He, with the skin of doves
Makes me wish upon his wounds
Telling me they are the feathers
That fly towards angels
Carrying my wishes like a pigeon does.

There is this man I love
He has the eyes of chandelier
Which burns bright everytime I smile
His love like water filled bucket
Spills every time I say his name
My lips worship every letter of which
Like a holy shrine.

There is this man I love
His face like the art of a skilled potter
Raw, yet perfected by the Sun
But he denies to believe
He is exquisite.

There is this man I love
Who believes he is the black rose
When the world needs red
So he questions me
What if my dreams replace his face with someone else
What if I leave the art he is
To find rather an artist who can mold my miseries
Dip them in galactic colors
And creates a phenomenal picture of my dwindling self esteem
Posing like a queen of Victorian era
He tells me he never learnt to paint
But he has made me fearless in drawing roadmaps to my body
He has told me how flawless my face is
Even when my scars scream ugly to me
He has let me know about the parts of me
I was scared to even think about
In the chalice of his heart
He pours down my sorrows and drinks them
Telling me how it tastes better than wine,
My miseries
He has made me feel more of a woman
A truth I was scared to accept
for it meant being no longer under the home made by my father’s hands to protect his little girl who made castle out of her pillows and umbrella her shield to scare the invaders.

There is this man I love
A man brought up right
A man I dream of sharing my soul with
And let him know
He is the only one I want to feel love with
Because he never made love look like an effort

And I now I know
Love is effortless
For what love is love if it is a mere obligation

There is this man I love
And it needs no other reason than this:
I love him.