look, the stained glass showing a variation of the truth. / look, the vines tangling around each other / choking the words down like a glass of bourbon / on a cold day or the barrel of a gun / turned malleable. / look, they’re only honest when / their petals close, but if they time it right / they can tell you but they don’t know how. / look, if silence was a form of art, they’d be the poster children, the prodigies / if silence is a work of art, surely this must be the masterpiece. / look, the soil is not black / but the color of a thunderstorm or a fight between your parents. / look, they’re only honest when the sun sets / a death allowing more freedom than a life in its climax. / look, the leaves leaving a trail of half-dead bodies / your very own red carpet. / look, they laugh as they wither / so caught up in the euphoria, they forget to breathe. / look, their beauty in the full / so innately raw and visceral, it stops being either. / look, you forgot to leave / in time.

Maitreyi Parakh (she/they) is a teenage, Indian-American bisexual poet from Seattle, USA. In their spare time, they enjoy creating obscene amounts of oddly specific playlists, researching their latest obsession, and making far too many Ocean Vuong references. You can find them at @everybodyplaysalong on Instagram and Tumblr, and @maitreyiparakh on Twitter.