“Delicate” – Nayana Nair

On Sundays, I wear the purple summer dressthat I once promised myself I would never wear.I paint my nails, I color my lips, and I open the windows in me.I become someone I was taught to hate, I try to breakmy hatred with my smile.I let myself be reignedby the greed for beautiful, sweet, shiningContinue reading ““Delicate” – Nayana Nair”

“Wind Chimes” -Nayana Nair

The wind chimes on television seem so beautiful, sound so soothing. But I had a wind chime that never made a sound. There was never a wind around my house at least not the one that pleased my wind chimes. The occasional wind will touch my cheeks but never the edges of the shining metal.Continue reading ““Wind Chimes” -Nayana Nair”