Awkward

Pretty dresses hang in a shop window, and people duck in as it begins to pour. The girl in the dressing room emerges to a room full of spectators, and blushes the shade of her dress. Then quickly she turns to the nearest woman and begs, "Would you zip me up, please?"

Where I’m From

I am from the kitchen
From the sweet smell of carrot cake
From my mother's perfect buter curls
From the worst sense of humour on earth
And from being denied brinjal and chane ka atta, am I

I am from scrathes and itches and marks of volition
I am from forests of trees and spiders and birds and light
I am from roads, or rather the sides of them; I am the hours spent waiting to cross, I am the fear of crossing

I am the daughter of confusion, betrayal and willpower
From the dust of bookshelves, the fur of dogs and goofy pants that weren't mine, I am
I am from dicipline and learning not to mess with dust, not to play with dogs and not to goof around with other people's pants

I am from blood and pus
I am from cotton and cloth
From 3 baths a day, while we played with tea cups,
I had 40 tiny ones, and a bathtub
I am from topical steriods

--
This is after a poem by George Ella Lyon. That I discovered from Amna Ahmad's blog, when I was on Natasha Badhwar's blog. I'd like to know where you're from too =)

The age where, to have a heart, is to hide it.

Fading

She licks the colour
As she speaks and the lipstick
Fades, fades, fades lighter.

How sadly, we are

Drawn, to the charm of sadness 

Like moths, to a flame

Ms. Taken

"Do you remember that time?", he said, excited like a child, a sparkle in his eye and mischief in his smile. "That time when I grabbed your hand, and we ran beneath the flicker of lamplight; to that little place, a corner in the dark alley we know so well?"

"No", she says, coolly, "You did that with someone else; I'm married, you see. Clearly, you're mistaken."