Mud paint and memories.

Beth was an artist. On some days, she would take half-filled whiskey bottles and paint her boyfriend's face on it. The skin would be dark and the nose small, the lips chapped and cheeks flushed. She would color every inch except the small circles in the eyes. She would leave that to the sun and whiskey. It had to resemble his eyes, after all. On other....

With my skin burned away, I’m still human.

This poem is for everyone who had lost something from their own body. For those whose skin has burnt away or soul has taken residence in a cold closet. This is also for everyone else. All of us need to hear this. It goes something like this - "I cannot begin to imagine...."

A twist of fate.

Keyla lived in a world where mythologies were the real deal. It was common to be in the presence of the god of the sea or hear stories from witnesses of age-old wars like the Mahabharata. Her day looked something like this: waking up when the sun sang songs loud enough for the world to hear, working all day on things that were routine but barely mattered and sleeping when the stars thought it was time. The Trojan war had just recently ended and things were.....