will i ever achieve
peace of mind?
with the walls
that talk
and walk
in a marching line?

is me not being like you
a crime?
forgive my glass
for being fragile
and my clock
for not ticking
according to your time.

trust me, 
i recognize the differences
between you and i.
you think you're
above me
when you're truly
giving in to the ways
that you were primed.

i don't need your consent
to be a product
of my own design.

xoxo,

asha

soulless flesh.

eyes full of life,

eyes bleeding death.

a lovesick heart,

a hysteric organ.

the woman’s mind

is corrupt,

that’s what we know

for certain.

her crime was breath,

her sin was sight.

they’ll strip her bare

of her candlelight.

they name her ghost,

before she’s gone.

replace her pulse

with siren songs.

bury her once,

bury her deep.

dig her grave

where the

other angels

sleep.

xoxo,

asha

from the house

i used to call

my home.

distrust

and disgust

stain the air,

along with the

silent anger of

coexistence.

the cycle repeats

like clockwork,

as time seems to be

the only constant

in my reality.

my prayers

usually grow longer

during my highs

and lows,

but this time

my heart is

beating blood

contaminated with

pure sorrow.

it appears to be

beyond my realization

as i feel tears

streaming down

my face

before i can

speak.

but as my room

goes dark,

i notice the full moon

outside my window,

creating a pool

of celestial light

on my carpet—

what a blessing.

xoxo,

asha

why am i

standing here

as the glass

breaks under

me?

stability.

i have never

questioned your

presence—

you were

a never ending

time bending

essence,

or at least

you were

supposed to

be.

stability.

i took you

for granted,

and for that

i will forever

be sorry.

stability.

but do you

really exist?

or are you

a part of a

reality that

no longer

persists?

stability.

i do not

believe you

are leaving me.

you must

have some

sympathy.

stability?

xoxo,

asha

heavy, but not sealed tight,

as i can hear the hums of old voices

and see the rays of half-forgotten light

seeping through the cracks.

when the present feels grim,

i tend to dig through fragments

of who i’ve been.

the shattered pieces

of my genuine happiness

cut my fingers,

making me bleed.

but i don’t disinfect my wounds.

i’m already contaminated

with desperation

for a euphoria

that not even time

can impede.

and so, i keep collecting the shards,

each sharp memory proof

that i was alive

before i became

this archive of loss.

the past pulses in my palms,

hands stained red,

clutching only nostalgia

and a wilted rose

for my deathbed.

(my mind is a time capsule

holding a breath

that no one

exhales).

xoxo,

asha

honey-gold and slow,

a melody wrapped in cigarette smoke

with the lights dimmed low.

his voice spills like whiskey—

sweet and a little wild—

dancing on the rim of my glass,

a temptation i can’t deny.

his gaze finds me

through the cloudy haze

and i sway ever so slightly,

my beaded dress

catching the light

like his high notes

catch my breath.

his smile curves like

the crescent moon

over Lenox Avenue,

a sight i simply can’t resist.

when he plays the next song,

the whole room’s dancing

but his fingers speak only to me.

and as my fan snaps shut,

my gloves resting on the bar,

i allow every chord he plays

to become sweet pleasure

to my soul.

xoxo,

asha

how the house i grew up in was filled

with the permanence and warmth of love,

where the walls stood sturdy with laughter.

i was too happy to notice the ground

slipping quietly beneath my feet.

my mind has locked away any memories

of my parents’ love intact,

as if to spare me the cruel weight

of having something so beautiful to miss.

or maybe it was never beautiful?

i was young, radiant with trust,

certain that love was stronger than

the pull of the moon,

everlasting like the colors on stained glass.

i was young.

now, there’s someone new.

hearing his steady voice

and her new laugh

at the dinner table

that sat empty for years

almost makes me believe

in the happiness i tell myself

i once knew.

my inner child dances

through rooms without any fear—

bare feet on what feels like solid ground.

but once,

when she spun too wildly,

she fell, only to notice

the hairline fractures

creeping back through

the new foundation.

she traces the cracks with her fingers in disbelief,

wondering if stability was ever real

or just something that she’d dreamed.

the light in her dimmed once again.

i know now what she didn’t know then—

even stained glass shatters,

even the moon wanes,

and not even love

swears to stay.

i was young.

i am older now.

xoxo,

asha

why is that?

why must i abuse my power of choice?

i let my

heavy heart and

heavier mind

push me deep into the still waters,

allowing me to drown

in the never-ending cycle

of stagnance.

xoxo,

asha

when the daylight surrenders

to twilight blue.

when the world holds its breath

in between sundown and starrise

and the streetlights yawn to life,

one by one,

scattering warmth as a rebellion

to the darkness

that will eventually ensue.

your twilight voice

draws out my light.

slow blue sighs

and soft brown eyes,

with a hue of my gold

illuminating your bronze skin.

the lamplight’s tender kiss

during the blue hour

reminds me of how we, too,

reflect each other brighter—

you polish my glow

until my shine is divine,

while my light reveals

the hidden hues in your blue.

this is how we exist

and this is how we love:

two colors

finding their radiance

precisely where

they touch.

xoxo,

asha

from my Echo Show.

that sounds really stupid, i know.

but after all these failed attempts

to delete you from my life,

these memories still linger wherever i go.

we are pictured smiling wide,

bathed in the sun’s golden glow

at our elementary school reunion;

the same playground

where we met long ago.

who would’ve thought that our friendship

would turn into this slow-blooming ache,

a hollow weight—

a wound that continues to throb

but never wants to close?

and although i care for you

more than i ever showed,

you seemed to care less for me

than you wanted me to know.

well,

now i know.

was it worth it, though?

you dragged me by my arteries

and gutted me so clean

and i breathed just to choke

and then you decided to throw

me away—

a single death blow,

left to decay

on my doomsday

as you let go.

you let me go,

and it’s carved into my bones.

i will never forgive you

for letting me become

someone you used to know.

xoxo,

asha

i feel my pulse thumping softly
against the slippery satin
of my pillowcase
as i lay in my sanctuary,
wrapped in the shadows of you.

quiet thoughts of you linger in my mind.
loud realities of you loiter in my space.

the painting you made me
still rests in its designated spot
on my bookshelf.
mindful strokes
and tender ink
that names me your sister,
now create a relic
of what we once were.

the photos of us
framed in time,
capturing our laughter
that was careless
and meaningless
yet priceless,
illustrating a mural
of a vibrant friendship
across my walls.

i love you.
i despise you.
i miss you.
i refuse you.

i am alone,
but not quite.
i am alone with the moon--
a luminous waning gibbous
that gives me solace
on this sleepless night.

- 1:28 a.m.

xoxo,

asha

but i stay.

perhaps it’s the way the melody of your laughter and the sweetness of your tender words make me feel like i’m home. even when the cracks in the foundation of this home become deeper with every “i’m sorry” for your repeated mistakes.

perhaps it’s the way our hands and our bodies and our souls intertwine perfectly, as if we were written for each other. even when the thread holding us together frays a little every time i forgive you simply because you need me to ease your guilt. i forgave you, but i knew you would do it again. some patterns are too familiar to break.

i know that you are more than your mistakes. the love i have for you doesn’t rely on certainty, but on the stubborn, persistent, and maybe foolish hope i have that you’ll do better for me as we continue to grow together.

there is a quiet madness in loving someone who has the pull of a tide—drawing me in, yet leaving me waiting for the stillness of a fulfilled promise.

but i stay.

not because i don’t know better.

it’s because i love you.

it’s because i see in you what others can’t.

it’s because despite everything, i still want forever with you.

(even when i’m not sure that i should).

xoxo,

asha

yet the air is hot

as i sit on my bedroom floor

covered in sweat.

my fingers clutch my shirt

as i breathe—

desperate, gasping,

as if someone has poured

saltwater into

my lungs.

inhale.

how is it possible

that only the wrong words

slip off my tongue?

exhale.

why does everyone

demand my voice

if they would rather

listen to silence?

inhale.

are my feelings too strong?

like a storm—

wild and turbulent,

would anyone be able to

tolerate me for so long?

exhale.

will i ever manage to

find the people

with whom

i belong?

inhale.

am i the monster

my mother

said i am

those nights she entered

my room,

saturated with the stench

of alcohol?

exhale.

i collapse,

laying every tense

and sore

and tired bone in my body

flat on the carpet,

letting the sobs

bruise and echo

in my chest.

i almost feel

like i want to drown

in this stream of sorrow.

i imagine the peace

of simply laying here,

letting the current

drag my body

past the edge of

the waterfall.

xoxo,

asha

but the shore also knows erosion.

i have memorized the weight of their burdens, the rhythm of their stumbles. i know exactly what tone they use that indicates sorrow, and i know exactly what words to use to make them feel alright. i have always been there, so of course i would know the specificities of their mind.

yet when my own storms roll in, when the dark clouds accompanied by the violent wind rushes through the hollow spaces in between my ribs, the silence is deafening. the hands i have held through the most grueling times suddenly draw back, suddenly distant. the voices who have told me their deepest and most heartshattering thoughts with ease suddenly can’t say, “i’m here.” suddenly, i’m completely alone.

still, i continue to give. i continue to gain the weight of their burdens. i continue to listen to the rhythm of their stumbles. i continue to recognize their sorrowful tone and meet it with the words that i know make them feel alright. i know what it’s like to simply need someone, so i continue to stay.

i am a lighthouse standing, worn and true,
shining for those who never do.
and in my light, they walk away.
when the giver needs to take,
the world moves on,
and i remain.

- asha

i would always say that it was fun hanging out with her, and i’d say “bye, love you” as i left the car. but whenever I said goodbye, she wouldn’t say anything back. even when the roles were switched and i was dropping her off at her house. it was weird, but i never thought anything of it.

anyway, going back to what i was saying before, when i was dropped off at my house, i said the usual things that i say to my best friend and i thanked her mom for driving. as i was leaving the car, her mom said, “don’t be a stranger!” it’s really such a simple saying, but i’m still thinking about it months later. it’s a saying one would say to someone who you aren’t very close with, so i found it odd that she said that. it feels like saying “don’t be a stranger” means that you are strangers, if that makes sense.

after thinking deeply about it when i was in my room later that day, i realized that i’m not as close with my best friend as i thought. we used to be inseparable, and i thought of her family as my own. i still call her my “best friend” out of habit, but it seems as though she’s just a friend. maybe even an acquaintance. we barely speak to each other, we barely see each other, and we barely know what’s going on in each other’s lives.

it feels like even though i recently realized this, we outgrew this friendship ages ago. we were so set on being best friends for life ever since kindergarten that maybe we were simply hanging on to that narrative rather than each other. i find myself constantly missing the old version of her because she has changed so much. there were times lately where i barely recognized her because her actions went against everything that she has said in the past.

i used to hate her for changing into a person that i didn’t align with, but then i realized that she’s growing. she isn’t that old version of herself anymore. our goals and values and actions aren’t the same anymore.

she’s growing, and it’s time that i let myself grow too.

xoxo,

asha