Existential crisis

In my two-dimensional façade, there is life.

Life, that abruptly stops at my boundaries.

Life, that exists along my fingers, and then stops in between, and suddenly sprouts again when it touches my skin.

In my two dimensional façade, life takes refuge,

With every breath I take, it gets renewed.

Life is without me, as I am without it.

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The little green leaf met the yellowed leaf in the lake one day and fell in love immediately.

He loved her amber purity, her bold maturity crassly perforated by her diffident insecurity--

He loved the whole of her, and the holes in her.

So he floated towards her and then under her and confessed his love and told her that he will protect her and cradle her craters in the palm of his being.

He said he would cover her voids and stall her fears and care for her till they sank unto the soil.

But alas, the yellowed leaf shunned him away!

She told him to float to a leaf that needed caring,

Because her holes were her own

A part of her as much as her veins, or even more--

Because through them sparkled the water that taught her to float.

Fairy Lights

The plan was to walk on the lights and turn the bulbs on with every step.

The plan was to be so fast that by the time the light went on, I was on my next step.

The plan was to glide against the wire, uninterrupted by the little buds of bulbs that grew out of it.

The plan was to swing on it, and swivel the bulbs till they were emancipated into a ring of fire, and then lie down on the wire and pretend it was my halo.

The plan was to be fairy.