Mahika Singhal

Letters of Curses (why God, why?). Letters sent to Churches (I guess I’ll trust in Him for Her, sigh). Letters I spied from my little eye (the first letter of her name, on your Spotify).

Youth is intoxicating, But I stay sober

Her life is a psychedelic movie /But I’m watching it sober / Let it be over / I clearly can’t do main character.

We’ll look for Polaris, kiss, and sway in the grass. We’ll hope on a comet, I’ll tell you about my wish, and you’ll get embarrassed, red as Mars. 

I won’t go back to him, but I’ll keep his hoodie if I can’t get rid of it yet. He taught me a lot about beauty, it’ll take time to forget

We got our own place, sold all their furniture — 60 dollars of cash that we left lying behind the toaster. I don’t even have curtains, our neighbors can look inside. But I don’t mind, all they’d see is us gabbing at night.

Trace me / I am a silhouette / Erase my coloring / I am a b&w sketch. 

He had internalized the Campanile’s striking by now, his heartbeat had synchronized with it.

Belonging is visceral and tactile, so lick everything and squish your face against every surface.