It's Silence I Crave, It's Why I Swim

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

Twenty seconds of courage that's all you need, twenty seconds

Playing for keeps

I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointment—we are all defined by something we can’t change.

I loved to write for you, I used to send you postcards, And I absolutely liked it so muchhhh. Then you told me to stop. Why do I love you and hate you

i bury words beneath my tongue

like we bury people once they're gone,

i worry that your mouth might

unearth them with a kiss

but sometimes i just wonder

what you hide behind your lips.

i want to tell you i love you

like a song completely new,

i don't want to sound

like some cover,

a reprise without the truth.

my love speaks in French,

but you only know English,

my love sounds like nonsense

and i don't think that you're fluent.

my love sounds like a splutter,

when it's really a language to learn;

it should resound like a symphony,

a tumbling tongue and a stutter

is not what you deserve.

You deserve the love you keep trying to give everyone else.

Bottlecap Press

THINGS I COULD SCREAM TO THE WORLD (but never whisper to you), by Julie Houston

Poetry, chapbook, 32 pages, from Bottlecap Features. THINGS I COULD SCREAM TO THE WORLD (but never whisper to you), by Julie Houston, is a c

From Julie Houston's chapbook, THINGS I COULD SCREAM TO THE WORLD (but never whisper to you), available from Bottlecap Press!

I wish I could regret that day

But, darling I can't

I wish I could hate you

And say that's true

But I wouldn't change a thing

Not even change the kisses that

We never had

In fact I would take you

Hug you and never let go

Though I'd prefer a kiss

I wish thing's repeated themselves

Just once

I would get the feeling

I so long ache

I wish thing's repeated themselves this just this once

I miss the time's and most of all I miss you

-What Was But Is No Longer

Mystery

Even though I see you all the time,

It seems I don't know you.

You are an open book,

But still a mystery for me,

Like a puzzle with some pieces,

But still as good as a one with no pieces.

Trying to figure you out feels like,

Guessing the rainbow colours as a blind person.

And just when I begin to feel,

That may be, I know you,

I see a new you.

Saumya Thapliyal