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
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