i want to write poems that are wine-flushed & sunlit; but there is now a boulder on the way to my heart where my feelings once found their way out of me. i care more about the result than my effort these days. most of the time, i am on a battlefield alone & battered, unable to see the enemy- just a desert full of mirrors & mirrors & reflections- and a face i do not recognise. i do not know where i get my scars from, so i refuse to tend to them. but i like to think that i try. that i have always tried- time & time again, through wounds & scars alike. on most days, it isn’t enough. on some, i am blind to my own lacerations. so i fall & i fall & i bash myself for not being able to get up. i want to stop falling- but first, i need to accept that i am here, on the ground. someday, my poems will be bright and mixed with starlight & hope. but today, i will cradle shame in my hands, and try to put myself to bed.
issue one / serendipity
by Phoenix Tesni
eleven pm, there's warm food on the stove. my kitchen window is fogged up- on the glass, i see my eyes, overlapping with a blurry vision of the lights outside. a study in bokeh and mist. winter creeps up underneath my feet, settles in my cat's throat when he comes to snuggle with me. i wake up and pull the blanket over myself. by noon, i hum along to the electric kettle. take sweaters out of old suitcases. stretch in the afternoon sun. wear chapstick more often. winter knocks on my door, and enters before i have the time to let it in.
Phoenix Tesni (she/her) is a self-proclaimed artist & poet from New Delhi. She’s 22 & likes to practice falling in love with life over and over again. When she’s not creating or consuming media, she is almost always petting a cat. You can find her on Twitter as @PhoenixTesni.