Bloom

​You live once through your own eyes,

I live again through the drafts in my device,

Poems scribbled down as memories,

Clearer than any polaroid,

I remember the closest I’d ever felt to love,

Felt a lot like losing myself,

That’s what they tell you,

Irrationality, love is 

the unexplainable urge to be reckless,

Tales of unrivalled joy

And the warmth of stability,

I didn’t feel it, not even close

I remember clear as day, 

How happiness felt, 

and how it all stemmed from me,

Still finding my ground

To sink my roots, dig deeper

and maybe flower one day soon, 

I like where I am now,

For the first time in a long time,

The grass is green around me,

Maybe this is where I’ll bloom.

                              —Ananya Murali