when you sing to me, my heart expands slowly, petal by petal, like the blooming of a time-lapse flower, and my cheeks grow sore from smiling.
heidi kalyani, 2017, from *project 139 (or less)*
Published
project139
Published
project 139 – seven
for years, i was so afraid of being hurt, i hermitted and let only my drawings in — a collection of thin curving lines, my only companions.
heidi kalyani, 2017, from *project 139 (or less)*
Published
project 139 – six
a beard is a beautiful thing to get lost in, the scent, the softness, the stories that intertwine, dangle, get blown in the wind.
heidi kalyani, 2017, from *project 139 (or less)*
Published
project 139 – five
i watch as you disappear, your red coat the only colour in my monochrome existence, until you turn, catch me watching you, and i blush.
heidi kalyani, 2017, from *project 139 (or less)*
Published
project 139 – four
as you ran fingers along my spine, you asked, how did you get such strong muscles here? from carrying the weight of the world, i said.
heidi kalyani, 2016, from *project 139 (or less)*
Published
project 139 – three
if i could manifest extra arms at will, i would make two for encircling you, two for pouring tea, and two more for juggling the cosmos.
heidi kalyani, 2016, from *project 139 (or less)*
Published
project 139 – two
your present truth pulses through my veins. hearing you this deeply dissolves my inhibitions and melts the protective layer i often wear.
heidi kalyani, 2016, from *project 139 (or less)*
Published
project 139 – one
my heart moves in many directions. it bursts in as well as out. it shrinks and jumps and swells — each equally beautiful and messy.
heidi kalyani, 2016, from *project 139 (or less)*