You had me at the Goodbye you made.

You had me at Goodbye

I remember you,
My person as you were.
I could see how sometimes,
A few emotions are just so much connected to a single person that they live along and die as that person leaves.
Now, I carry graves.

I remember,
How you watered lilies and waited for roses to blossom.
How you knew everything, every time
Until, it was too late.

I remember,
How you made promises
And I kept them always
Only to find myself holding the most volatile designation in your life.

I could see how people lie between those true lines they say.

I remember,
How you knocked,
Till I opened up
And you watched the blood, flood away.

You smirked at my smiles
And I wished for moments like those all the time.

You bought me a cake
And stole my hunger away.

Oh My dear person,
You had me at the goodbye you made.

As you left,
I watched your foot prints fading away,
For several, several days.

Until, I collected all the love I gave away
Pieces, like burnt pages
My own soulful emotions in lifeless shapes.

You had me at that goodbye you made.

Ayrisha Sepaha


My Silhouettes, Your Shine.

You are an art
I discovered, in this journey of time.

I recollect memories
As when I drew these dark images
Struggling to express my own definition of happiness and life.
Through the only colour I had, black.
Yet, I made improper shapes and proper details.
Complicated and serene.

Purest of my emotional velvet, green.

I kept these imaginations and stories clandestine
I had least hope to find silhouettes, I created
In someone I can call mine.

And then,
I met you, Dear most.
Your reflections and rhymes.
Your oldest soul shined,
Spreading glitters to those black, deep black drawings of mine.
Making melancholy,
A wonderful rhyme.

You are an art
I discovered, in this journey of time.

Ayrisha Sepaha

A Raw Love Letter.


If you’ve chosen me,
you must be non routine.
If you’ve fallen in love with me,
you must be brave.

As I scribble through these lines trying to pour a rather framed, fabricated version of all the disaster that I carry,
I would mention that
If I hold you today,
I’ll hold you even tighter tomorrow.

I’d be interested in everything you are scared  to reveal.
I’d observe what you speak when you look for silence
Or what you feed yourself when you are more than hungry
Or maybe where exactly you hide your demons.

I’d count not your compliments but the number of breaths you take while actually feeling alive.

I’d taste that burnt cookie you got while baking the whole dozen.

I’d tear your make believe personality and look for that misfit inside of you.
To offer the love,
You thought, you’d never receive.

I’d watch you like the moon watches the earth even on the days it doesn’t show itself much.
I’d notice your flickering eyes and your clenching palms and all the reasons behind your response.

And when you change
I’d cling to you,
I’d would hold till it settles
I’d wait till the disaster ends.

And if this universe plays its old tricks and catches upon us.
I won’t be shallow my love.

If you end up in a stranger’s arms
I’d watch you through,
I’d watch you melt and mix into that distant lake, that another love.

I’d watch you with tears in my eyes,
Smile on my face
And grace for you my love,
So much of grace.

-Ayrisha Sepaha

Ayrisha Sepaha

Pretentious Flesh.

How often are these eyes used so ironically,
Seeing only the outside.

Particular and stuck
Damned by that shape
Them perfect abs
And skinny ass
Those salad diets and crop tops
To show it
The body, greatly made.

But to improve the mind,
Ah, heart ache.

And to believe that,
The shape of your flesh
Over your not so uniquely shaped skeleton
Means everything.
You’re ready for life.

What about soul detoxification?
About taking soul on a diet, a strict diet?
What if it’s heavier than the body can ever be?
Or has lacked nutrition, pathetically.

These ounces take you no farther than gym.

And that
Short and cute
Tall and dark
These choices based on categories made out of appearances
Black on white isn’t the only racism.

Segregation at it’s worst is nothing but discrimination.

And what about that magic you look for and keep failing.
Because you look for toned legs and flat bellies
More than love, benevolence and butterflies.

But what do we really have,
More or less than a soul?

-Ayrisha Sepaha

Ayrisha Sepaha