There is a beach house and the zest of summer on my tongue, there is a dog named Soul, the floor is familiar, I can walk on it at midnight without getting a stubbed toe. I know all the light switches, the doors, the windows and how the afternoon falls through them. It’s all golden like a movie, we are young and love songs make sense again.
-Excerpt from the poem There Is Love Here. Bad Poetry and This Loving, Sakshi Narula
It is the winter of my youth. There are more grays in my hair than in the sky and here I am blooming like sunflowers from a heart-break. I grieved and mourned this love. For days I looked like a deconstructed murder scene. I choked your memories with a cushion in my hand and destroyed all evidence that could lead them up to me
But I am getting better, better cannot begin to define this bittersweet wisdom in my bones. It felt good to be a fool for a while, I was happy, I was high. It has taken me sometime but I have finally let go. I stopped waiting by the burnt bridges. It has been years since we saw eye to eye or shared a kiss divine. But this one’s not on me, this is one’s on you, only you.
- Lost, The Art of Staying Lost, Book 2, Sakshi Narula
There is love here, there is lusciousness of poetry, no people.
People are either poison or magic, either way they break hearts.
But there is love here and Christmases and a library. There are
possibilities, of joy.
- Excerpt from the poem There Is Love Here, Bad Poetry and This Loving, Sakshi Narula
Of all my book covers, this one is my favourite. Hardcover/color interior- House Of Stars And Flowers On Mars. Also in paperback and on Kindle. Book design by me.
Freedom, freedom is poetry arriving on god's chariot to heal me, poetry arriving with medicine, every time I couldn’t fit in, every time someone called me ugly, every time I fell out of love, every time he couldn’t love me, every time I relived my trauma, every time I gave up on me.
-Excerpt from the poem FOR MIDLIFE AND THE MEN I LOVED, Bad Poetry and This Loving, Sakshi Narula
I removed my soul and set it aside to be read on a Sunday unlike today. Today my lonely is heavier than the earth and the weight of it has been killing me slowly. Time is birthing more time and I don't know what I want to do with the excess I already have.
- Sunday Poem, Bad Poetry and This Loving, Sakshi Narula
I want bread and eternity and his children but I wonder, am I traveling in his veins as he ages and walks miles in mine, through the snow in winter and flowers in spring do I live in my lover’s soul, like he lives in mine?
- Excerpt from the poem IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, I’M LYING ON BOB DYLAN'S BIG BRASS BED- Bad Poetry and This Loving, Sakshi Narula.
An ocean of loneliness/are you trying to out swim the grief/A sadness that doesn't kill, a sadness that doesn't leave/Is there a pain you cannot name/A man who couldn't love you/A sinner to blame/A hunger no great meal or a great song can satiate/A birch that watches you self loathe from the window/a mirror that absorbs all your rage