old friends, new strangers
You have the face of someone I used to love.
Really, the resemblance is uncanny -
The cotton candy hair, the cherry punch lips -
But her cheeks were persimmons and yours, catacomb hollows
Her words were sugarplums and yours, apple seeds
The bitter cyanide I die by
The moon reminds me of you
Argent, chilly, and 238,855 miles away
Not to mention, there’s always been something
a little extraterrestrial about your disdain
Sister of stone, daughter of stars
Dare I ask you to unfist your heart?
There is a space within me where love should be, I know
But I promise to stare into your void
if you will stare into mine
Tell me, is there any way
to fit the people we’ve outgrown?
Dia Bhojwani is a sophomore living in Mumbai, India. She's been published in Beetle Literary Magazine, The Punch Magazine, and Parallax Literary Magazine, amongst others. Her first book, The Pandemic Diaries, was published in January 2021. She loves confessional poetry, stand-up comedy, and Hawaiian pizza.