If the heaven was the eyelash that stole my wish
If it was the candle that I blew on days I lived,
Then I want to write my own goddamn History
In an abyss that reeks of an unending staircase,
I hand my sins to you, so you may decide my grave
I fall as I fly, unto the blue skies~
re-writing the tears that have forgotten how to be a poem.
-Nameera Anjum Khan