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“In every step, in every breath of yours, you’ll feel meâ€�
I will always be in every sight you see, in ever voice you hear�
Your ears will be always filled with my whispers, my laughter and my cries�
My fights and tantrums will never leave your mind�
My footsteps, my shadow, will haunt you in every corner you go�
I will be your mornings, your days and nights�
I am the breeze that wraps your body in the morning�
I am the moonlight that bathes your body at night�
I am the fire that will burn you. I am the storm that you cannot handle�
I am the rain that will wash away the dust from your soul�
I am in your reflection. I am your shadow�
Your heart whispers my name in every beat�
Every word you say, echoes my name�
I am the secret you want to hide, but the secret that the world knows�
I am your dream�
I am your nightmare�
I am your darkest sin...
I am youâ€�”
― Ama H. Vanniarachchy

“What should I call you? A friend, a stranger, or a lover? I remember the day you laid your eyes on me the first time. There was just something unwavering about that moment. It wasn’t peaceful or absolute. It was definite. Something that was bound to happen. It was like as if our souls were waiting for us to collide. And oh we did! We collided like meteors, giving this universe a spectacular view. From my 2 am thought that used to keep me up at night, you soon became my 2 am call. From an almost stranger to my skin, you became a part of me. But just like every collision, ours also had to end in destruction. The 2 am call soon became a 2 am thought. The thought still keeps me up at night, but not for the same reasons. From strangers to lovers and lovers to strangers again, our journey hasn’t been ordinary. Someone asked me about you today and for a moment, I didn’t know what to call you. Who are you to me now? A friend â€� no. Definitely not a lover. I guess, you and I â€� we are just strangers with memories.”
― Bhavya Kaushik

“And I go looking looking for you in the streets
And I never find you
I never find you at all”
― Dorothea Lasky, Rome: Poems

“Didn’t anyone ask you where your parents are?"
"They asked. Especially about my parents."
"What did you tell them?"
"I said I ate them."
"Jesus, Rosa.”
― Justine Larbalestier, My Sister Rosa