you say that I’m         no good                        at com part men tal iz ing-

               never learnt to              quite tell                                           my blues from my greens

stopped to dye            my hair                      every colour in between.

                                but don’t you pity me, 

                                     or my love 

just because it 

                      overflows like a cup left under the sink a second too long 

because it  

                   never learnt to stay between the lines when painting the sunrise 

because it 

                   doesn’t fit neatly into my carry-on when I’m the last one to board the plane back home

because it 

                   bleeds from English to Bangla when I iron my grandmother’s wrinkles out with a kiss 

because it 

                   gets tangled up with your sheets in the wash 

because it

                     slips off my tongue when I’m trying to argue 

because it 

                   trickles down my cheeks when I’m laughing with my brother 

because it 

                   trips over its own shoelaces at the playground 

because it 

                   spills onto your new shoes at the party I promised would be worth the drive 

because it 

                    forgets not to forgive a wrong that’s been righted 

because it 

                    never quite learnt the delicate art of disguise.


                                 it’s you I pity, 

because honestly,         darling,        you wouldn’t know       what      ‘love’      looked like 

                         if it hit you in the face with a Ferrari.

                                    tell me what you’d     p i g e o n hole          that into:

 a hit-and-run,


  hasty self-defence?


A 2nd-year Communications major trying to squeeze in minors in English and Cognitive Science, Ayushee is a meme-enthusiast who firmly believes that pineapple belongs on pizza and that dark chocolate is the universal cure to a bad day.

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