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it's personal
'it's personal' is Sunita's first book. Written over the course of several years, whilst Sunita attended school, 'it's personal' is a collection of poems that explores youth and the complex emotions that we face. Diving into topics like love, lust, grief, heartbreak and acceptance. Showcasing
the intricacies of human relationships and the complexities of loving others, oneself, and the world in which we reside. Creating a portrayal of what it means to be human.
My Books
Featured Poems
Wasted Youth
To rooftop picnics and endless summer days,
Drinking apple cider from plastic glasses and pretending it was champagne,
The only thing I was getting drunk off of was the way you said my name.
The record was playing,
And every now and then it’d skip a beat,
But that didn’t stop us from stomping our feet.
Laying on our backs with the sun in our eyes,
As we watched Picasso paint the sky.
We ate cheese till our stomachs felt like they would explode,
Stuffing ourselves with olives and unrealistic promises to never get old.
We threw on fancy dresses,
Even though they were too large,
And let the old fabric drag against the pavement as we danced beneath the stars.
We laughed as our eyes glistened in the night,
Our sun-kissed faces burning bright,
And our hair was loose, wild, and wavy,
As we wore crowns of white daisies.
And caught moonbeams and stardust,
Turning moonlight to spotlight as we put on a show. We howled at the moon,And sang every song,
Watching the night turn to dawn.
We stayed up talking for hours,
Balance beaming on ledges,
As we shouted into the night.
And as the sun came out our wild souls began to settle,
For the fear of sitting still was no longer in our bones.
The sun rose and our hearts slowed,
No longer scared of growing old.
We nestled in a corner,
Blankets wrapped around our shoulders,
Our bare feet hanging off the edge.
We grew more somber,
As our shadows stretched longer,
And I didn’t want us to end.
As our eyes began to close,
Rose-colored dreams began to play,
And it was then that I knew, in this moment is where I’d forever stay.
We’d always have this day,
Even years from now,
We’d stay this way,
Crazy and young,
Wild and free,
Kindred spirits,
Of the beautiful you and me.
Wasted
Youth
Seasons
​Your hair was like the seasons,
A fact I once loved.
I’d silently count the colors in your strands that mirrored the days of the month.
I fell in love with you when your hair matched the bright August sun.
When you shined like a summer's mid-afternoon. But the days began to change and your light began to dampen.
Once shining now dimmed,
And I watched as you began matching the color of fallen leaves.
You became dull, almost lifeless, unmotivated.
Like one strong gust and you’d be taken with the wind.
By December,
You were gone.
Became dark like the bark on the trees.
And I waited for equinox warmth but it never seemed to return.
Gone indefinitely.
You were cold and unrecognizable.
Distant and withdrawn.
But I weathered your storm,
Waited out your freezing days,
In what I once called our home.
But all things come to an end,
And your winter solstice did too.
And you returned, but as a reflection of someone I once knew.
You were gold,
Like the setting sun that marks the end of Dak’s Day. But you were different.
A stranger I had remet.
A ghost to make re-fall in love with me.
See my dear,
You were the embodiment of the seasons,
A fact I wish I knew.
And I watched you change before me
Until I no longer recognized you.
Forever cursed to love a single season in the everchanging you
SEASONS
Tea
He holds the cup, hands clasped around its sides.
A thin line of steam tickling his nose.
I cough,
But he doesn’t look up.
I could fall right now and I doubt he’ll look up.
He stares at the paper like he’s searching for answers.
Maybe he’s searching for someone new.
I stare down at the dark liquid in his cup,
Knowing it’s the closest I’ll get to seeing his brown eyes.
I envy that tea bag, how it gets to be so close.
How it can see the look in his eyes, and the scruff of his beard.
While I’m here,
On the far end of the table just praying he’ll look my way.
I fiddle with my hair,
If it looks nice maybe he’ll take an interest,
Even if just for a second.
He brings the cup to his mouth like it’s second nature,
Not much of a thought.
I remember when kissing me used to be like second nature.
It was an instinct, not a thought.
Now I’m lucky if I’m just as much of an afterthought.
He sighs, comforted by the warmth.
I sigh, relieved it’s good enough.
It seems like everything is just ‘good enough’
He never eats breakfast, he says all he needs is a good cup of tea.
And with each passing day, it becomes more evident he no longer needs me.
I watch him hold that tea, lingering in its warmth,
I yearn to be that cup of tea.
Caught between his tender grip, Pressed against his rosy lips.
The focus of his attention,
Source of his affection.
I remember when he used to love me.
He dazedly adds milk to the cup
A thin white figure forms and then it disappears,
I wish I could disappear.
Slowly vanish from here.
Melting inside him like honey.
Then fading away.
I wish I could be enough.
I wish I could be that damn cup of tea.
TEA
Passing Ships
I could say we were complicated,
That would be easier, wouldn’t it?
To chalk us up to an ominous term and just let it float.
But easy was never our nature now, was it?
If I could classify us I’d say we were a fluke
A trailer,
a preface to a life we wouldn't make.
Yeah, that works better.
Fits us like a glove.
‘Cause you and I were never in love.
We were testing the waters,
But our terminology gets murky,
And lines get blurry,
As I try to figure out just what you were to me.
And I know we were not extraordinary,
Although we had the potential to be.
And we weren't a whirlwind romance,
We were just you and me.
But dammit we had something.
I know that for sure.
Whatever it was,
It was ours.
It was new.
And I just wish we got the chance to see it through.
SEASONS
PASSING SHIPS
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