Skin

Your skin tastes like mumbling blue berries trapped inside sea shells, skies falling upon your collarbones
Did you really believe that the weight of this world could shatter you?
You carry butterflies inside your stomach
You love like tomorrow is but a fable
Tell me, do you not shudder when you think of the end?
Maybe heaven really is a beginning,
A strawberry stream flowing through the crevices of the wild forest that you are

Your skin tastes like a scream splattered across the wall
It’s red and soaked in wet sheets
There’s a sickness drowning you until you can’t breathe
Mother, I see how the heaven under your feet often makes the earth beneath it slip away
The clouds shake while God’s laughter echoes in your eyes
My first poem is your name, your name

Your skin tastes like an oration pleading for hope
A lullaby that sleeps over my chest
The winds carry my whispers and I feel your smile against my lips
My breath is a wild goose flapping its wings against a chest that has only known heaviness
How do you get used to feeling this light?

Your skin is my home, the window that is always open, the curtains that will never be drawn, the door that will never be locked and the poem that only begins

Your skin tastes like heaven falling in love with herself for the first time.

-Nameera.

A Sigh of Freedom

The distance is a mist eddying upon my thighs

She plays the lyre that resembles eternity

Grapes have been growing around my wrists

My feet taste like oranges swallowed by the steps they take

The portrait of a holy tomb stares at me

I feel my shoulders turn into minarets

My stomach morphs into a call to the right side

This voice is God’s omen raining down on my face

I look up to the skies and I see blue skies free from the politics I’ve left behind

The earth behind me wails in the echoes of hopeless civilizations

I don’t rage anymore

I’m free from your shackles, I was always my own call for freedom, love and acceptance

-Nameera.

Weakening

Teal skies peeling off their skin
Their mouth is dripping with diamonds
They smell like paradise under the yellow sun
The chair is paper, it crumbles beneath my weight
My hair tastes of wood
Orange juice splattered across the counter
A broken hand caressing the flower vase
The floor is water and I slip
I slip until my legs turn into a pair of boats
Land comes to me and I can’t walk anymore

The moon cuts the lightening with her laughter
She is the color of your pale lover tonight
A tangerine suitcase of your vulnerabilities,
I unpack it and your image is complete.

-Nameera.

Open Up

When they say, ‘Open up!’ what I see is the picture of my heart running like a wild goose in a jungle of confusion. It often steps in a puddle of familiarity but slowly, that very puddle begins to wet its feathers in droplets of shame. How could I’ve been so reckless? Did they really need to know that? So on and so forth, goes the troubled web spun by my mind. It’s hard to breathe with the weight of my insignificant over-shared life. I’m a generous listener but not a generous talker and this often puts people in a motion of self-doubt but they’re really not at fault here.

When they say, ‘Open up, you owe it to us after all this time!!’, what I hear is a call for a reason to hold on. Sometimes, it even rains like a warning over my bare head, the drops tapping on my mind to make the move. I still contemplate trust like a child toying with food until it turns cold, sour and hard to penetrate. I’m still the insecure six year old who never grew up, don’t you get it?

When they say, ‘Open up, it’s your last chance’ I hear yet another reason to strike off a name and turn goodbyes into an untitled poem.

The Cure

Gold like honey dripping from
The tip of your tongue
Willfully made a way
Down my throat
Through the
Chipped lips
That never
Seemed to
Bother you.

Your enigmatic daisies still
Sit intact, crowning my
Strands like precious
Gems favored upon
An ocean of
Black.

The fragility encompassing
Each beat of my heart is
Afresh beneath a battered
Chest as blood rushes
In dismantled parts of
Me at your
Fingertips.

I’m the disease spreading
Across your body,
With surity my hands
Manoeuvre unholy
Territories within
You only to find
Myself standing
Face to face
with my
Fears.

Masked behind an antidote,
Your true colors showed
When I found solace
In your arms.

You were the poison;
Conniving and dismembered,
Trying to find your place
In a plague, don’t you
Know diseases will
Forever be
Dislocated?

We can never belong,
We can only eddy
Around the pool
Of normalcy
Like a mist,
Deranged
To the
Core.

(Who says diseases don’t fall in love? When they do, till death do they part)

-Nameera.


I was very little when I watched Cleopatra. I never understood the story back then but after watching it again few years back, I fell in love with Elizabeth Taylor. Her portrayal of Cleopatra will always be my favorite.

Exposed

In its internment,
My heart was on
Its knees, ever-
Ready to serve
The master’s
Command.

Be it burying myself under
A mountain of responsibility
Or diving in an ocean that
Was never enough to
Satiate your thirst for
Perfection,
I had my mind set
On fulfilling your
Wishes before
They had to
Travel up your
Throat & find a
Way to the tip
Of your acidic
Tongue.

Alas, I was no angel,
I had served my
Term long
Enough.

It was time now,
For me to kill your heart.

Labeled a thief, a murderer
For my crime,
They never saw the knives
Groped in my scars that
I exposed to you with
The only faith I had
In store.

You stole my faith,
I smashed your heart;
That makes us even
But they only see
Pieces of your heart,
What of the mistrust
That will forever
Reside in my mind,
Extracting my soul
Of the last thing
That keeps me
Alive – hope.

-Nameera.


A broken heart is almost always subject to metaphors & wordplay. As beautiful as it is to read words written for broken hearts, I’d like to draw your attention to emotions that also matter. Trust & hope go hand in hand, they’ve interchangeable consequences. We’re mere human beings, we break hearts & get ours broken by others. The least we can do is cherish trust. Hope isn’t everlasting, I don’t say so because I’m pessimistic but because it’s reality.

Trust is a treasure trove, every time you add little trinkets of hope, it grows.

The Mirror

They weren’t eyes,
They were
Windows to you;
A glimpse of my
Secrets.

No matter how hard I tried,
Pain had a way of making
Itself evident through the
Brown hues fading into
The morbid blackness
Hovering upon my
Existence.

They’re tainted pink & purple,
But exhaustion is always
Crystal clear.

Didn’t you ever feel,
Like you were
Looking in a
Mirror?

Maybe that’s why I
Could never read your eyes,
Because I wasn’t looking
Inside a window,
But at a mirror.

I never understood what I saw,
For I’ve never been
Familiar enough
With myself.

(It wasn’t you I was tired of looking at, it was me)

Shards of broken glass
Still pierce my mind,
But I’d rather be
Blind than give
In to expectations
That will forever
Be unmet.

-Nameera.

Apprehensions Regarding Bharat.

Hey y’all!
About 2 months ago I mentioned in one of my posts that I was going to talk about my apprehensions on moving to India. So, here it goes.

1. Nostalgia.
I don’t think there’s a way to avoid this. Every minute I breathe, eat, or talk there’s going to be an inevitable wave of nostalgia making me homesick. Though I’m sure I’ll get over it with time.

2. Time.
Okay, I swear to God time flies in India! Days seem longer than nights which is really upsetting to my routine since Saudi Arabia is all about night life. It’s always a major problem during Ramadan when I’ve to fast, time never passes quickly.

3. Papa Johns.
PAPA JOHNS HAS BEEN A FAILURE IN INDIA. Enough said. (Read Here)

4. Traffic.
Drivers rarely honk here unless of course we’re stuck in traffic. I go deaf when I’m travelling by road in the city in India.

5. Al-Baik.
This is a fast food chain found only in Madinah, Makkah & Jeddah (if I’m not mistaken) that most of us have been eating since childhood. No fast food outlet can replace Al-Baik. Ever.

6. Cotton Candy.
Okay so this is prolly just a figment of my imagination. Cotton candy is my favorite ice cream flavor at Baskin Robbins. The last time I tried it in India it wasn’t as sweet as it is here. I really hope it was my taste buds lol.

7. Competition.
So, growing up away from the country & studying in an Indian school we’ve been told by our teachers that students in India are way more competitive than us. We’re literally made to feel like losers.

8. Ice-rink.
Does anyone of you know of an ice-rink in India? Particularly in the North. Do let me know. Because I really haven’t seen/heard about one there.

Well, half of the points I mentioned above are irrelevant. All I can say is I’m looking forward to this drastic change even if it means that I’ll have to adapt to a new lifestyle.

And I didn’t feel the need to mention my love for the two Holy places that I’m going to regret leaving forever.

Thanks for reading!

In My Mind

Compliments -I’ve always loathed them,
I mean, can’t we just keep quiet?

Even Pablo Neruda would agree,
After all ‘Keeping Quiet’ was his dream.
Or was it just wordplay to soothe the senses and brighten perspectives?

It’s funny how I sugarcoat depression,
Making it taste like candy just so I can forget what self-hate does
To my tongue.

(Candy is sweet)

I’ve a strange resonance with Edgar Allan Poe,
Mind you, I don’t need melancholy to have a gothic soul.
But his words were the first,
To spark within me the love for all things dark and sad.

‘A dream within a dream’ how else would you define life?

While other girls look for ‘Fault in Our Stars’,
I’m content to watch spaceships dart right across the universe into a Black hole,
Where a concourse of time and space is relishing to the eyes,
On how devoted I am to the glories Of an idiot box.

I like to announce my carelessness,
Pronouncing each mistake with immense satisfaction.
I’m not a peach, I’m a nut,
Impossible to crack.
Impossible to chew.

(Alas! the irony makes me sigh)

Hurt me once, oh please do,
I’ll be kind, I promise you.

Hurt me thrice,
Picture me cutting you into pieces,
Unfathomable to the mind.

(I used to cut plastic dolls, you know)

-Nameera.


I’ve gone way overboard with free-verse poetry, don’t you think?

As some of you might already know, I mostly resort to writing poems with a certain rhyme scheme.

Well, for a little change I decided to go for free-verse poetry.

This is an epitome of letting my thoughts flow. I literally wrote the first thing that came to my mind lol.

Words Can Heal your Heart.

Your heart will give your life wings.

~Unknown

The above quote has always been my favorite simply because every time I felt like giving up I only had to take out this old artwork & relive the strength I felt while making it ages ago. In a moment all my problems would seem too small to fret over.

Wherever you go, go with all your heart.

~Confucius

A talent that not all possess is doing things with all their heart. Sometimes we’re unable to achieve few goals in life due to unknown reasons. But are we really working towards that goal? Or are we simply focused on the aftermath rather than putting our minds into the process?

Do your work with your whole heart, and you will succeed – there’s so little competition.

~Elbert Hubbard

Now do you see the answer to your ‘unknown’ reasons for not being able to meet your goals?

This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.

~Dalai Lama

Dalai Lama has rightly put into words the true recipe for success. Cleanse your heart towards others & lead a happy life.

There’s so little time & so much to be done. Instead of breaking hearts & fooling around take time to make others, and most importantly yourself happy!