My love for myself is phantomly.
When I think about love, I think about
quiet blue seas I have never touched;
spring showers in liminal spaces,
cynical even, like watchful faces
in swarming streets.
The burst of fragrant marigolds
on the blanched porch of our old Calcutta home,
free like sand, unbridled like the wind–
love is like a small house someone has built
for me: grain by grain and brick by brick
All things perfect are terribly flawed;
for I know when the raindrops paint me sheer,
you can see through my tears
and my aching palms, my trembling chest–
they bring me here and everywhere else. Easy like dust,
I shift and flit,
My vulnerabilities stitch me whole,
I am not scared to be. 

Snata Basu is an aspirant poet from Dhaka, Bangladesh. Her work mostly centers on passionate, personal bindings. She is currently pursuing a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature at North South University.