What this girl dreams of

Oh to take the train to a villa in Galle and relax by the beach

A pool just calling to you, while someone cooks one delicious meal after another

To take a cab back from Colombo after a night out

Down a cocktail or two before ordering a bottle for the table

Going from pub to pub, ending the night with karaoke

Forget all of that

But just ordering a delicious chocolate cake

Covered in a generous layer of boozy ganache

Taking your pick from an endless spread of seafood and meat and breads and more

A steaming hot pizza delivered to your doorstep, pairing it with a glass of wine

Oh to be happy and free of worry

Word of the day: Ganache

A whipped frosting or filling made with semisweet chocolate and cream,

used for cakes, pastries, and candies

life.

My mother tells me that my hair looks nice

"He did a good job trimming it"

My curls have settled well, she says

I smile in response, too ashamed to admit that

My hair gets this way when I don't bathe every other day

And I don't remember the last time I had a bath

Whenever I do decide that today,

I will wash my hair, shave my legs

Put on an outfit that doesn't look like a sack

A tiredness falls over me and I instead have a quick wash

And go back to bed

I share a picture of my cat with a friend and tell her

I can't post it online because I have promised myself I won't until I'm no longer sad

It feels like a threat to my brain:

You either get your shit together or lose the one outlet you have to vent

So far, it hasn't worked. I don't tweet. But I'm still sad

The truth is, I started hating myself, this person I've become

Always so tired and angry and sad and awful

I didn't want to spend another minute with myself

And the thing about hating yourself is that

You can never escape yourself

You don't need to tell me this is selfish, because I am aware

But I desire company just so I can be held

So I can rest my head on a shoulder, hold a hand that doesn't let go

To remind myself that I am still here

Still breathing, still present in this moment

You also don't need to tell me that this will pass, like everything else,

Things will get better, I just need to hold on until then

I am aware. I know.

But that doesn't make it any easier.

Bumbling idiot

I swipe right on someone who has swiped right on me

And the app gives me a 24-hour window to make a move

But how do you start a conversation with a stranger

You have no actual desire to date

Perhaps I should open a bottle of wine

Get sufficiently tipsy

Put on something on Netflix

Forget the app and instead have a nap

Mirror, mirror, on the wall

Yesterday, I saw a stranger in the mirror

When did I start looking this sad

I started crying, so turned my back to the wall

There's just so much ugliness one can take in a day

Dissent

Word of the day: Dissent

Disagreement with the philosophy, methods, goals, etc. of a political party or government

They say the aragalaya is dead or distracted

Far from reaching its goal of sending Gota home

And perhaps Galle Face is no more a Gama

But a sparsely populated desert, tents still erect

But you will still hear a voice screaming into a microphone

Protest chants that fill the air

Mixing with the salt of the ocean and tears of desperation

A struggle exhausted, but unrelenting

And one may criticise the apathy

The lack of participation

The disintegration of dissent

And from them, we must ask if they do not hear

The wails of a woman who watched her husband fall dead to the ground

After standing in line for days hoping for fuel, praying for kerosene

The anguish of a father who holds the lifeless body of his child

Who died because they couldn't get to a hospital in time

(And one wonders if there would have been a point in going to

A hospital with no medicine and no staff and no electricity)

The sighs of exhaustion, beads of sweat

Of men and women, young and old, packed into buses and trains

Praying it doesn't rain, hoping the streets are not in darkness

Knowing the money in their wallet would only get them through a meal at most

(But what does one do with rotting vegetables, weevil-infested rice

When there is no gas to cook a simple curry or two)

And as we are stripped of what little joy, what little hope we had

As we listen to lie after lie, promises of better days to come

If only we can get through the toughest of weeks that never seem to end

They sit in their air-conditioned rooms, fill their stomachs with the finest food

Laugh and joke about the sorry state of affairs in the country they set fire to

Not a thought given to anyone but themselves

Choice

I left the door open, sure,

But it is you who chose to leave

Best day of her life

Somewhere on the internet there is an album

Pictures from the best day of her life and one day

You will come across it and perhaps by then you would know

Or maybe it'll take you by surprise and you will hate us all

For not telling you about it, for letting this thing happen

You will go through the pictures, hoping to find in his face

A morsel of sadness, reluctance, a need to flee, run while he still could

Instead a smile, laughter, happiness, even

And it will break you in a way you never thought possible

It will feel like the worst pain you've felt in a long time

Her white sari, his grey suit, their poruwa, first dance

A newly married couple on the best day of their life

Almost mocking you from the screen

love.

Word of the day: inamorata

a woman who loves or is loved; female sweetheart or lover

Sometimes I fantasize about being a woman who loves and is loved

Coming home to kindness and warmth, a cup of tea waiting on the kitchen counter

Chicken in the oven, pasta boiling in a pot

Outside, the setting sun turns everything golden, ethereal

The bills are paid, the groceries done, the bed made and the wine chilled

A quiet existence, where voices aren't raised, fists aren't tightened

A love that is selfish, where the give and take isn't 50-50

Where one act doesn't have to be countered with an act of similar effort

Where you love in the way you know how to, and I do the way I know best

turn back time

would there even be an us

-as brief as it was-

if i hadn't been drunk that one night

and made the first move?

would we have had those handful of good days

now tainted by the faintest shade of grief

if i had been sober and you

still unsure?

let's get straight to it

Word of the day: hokum

out-and-out nonsense; bunkum

You say something about someone that I struggle to follow

Because all I can think about are your lips and how they feel when we kiss

We laugh at the end of it, and I have to stop myself from walking over to you

Instead I counter your story with something else about someone else

None of this matters, really, we are just trying to sound interesting or smart

Or funny or whatever else, even though none of it will play a part in how this night ends

Because we both know that soon

We will tire of the irrelevant, the stalling, and close this space between us