Aatma Prem

“I’m not someone who falls for words Because everyone can talk, it’s easy. Anyone can make words taste like honey.

So pure. So sweet. 

That it can kill you.  
Hell, I write! 

I know how to make words cut flesh and scar your soul. 

I know how to make alphabets dance to make melodies of sentences. 

I believe everyone can talk. 

But only few to follow up with action. 
I like flowers you know

Blue orchids, white lilies and jasmines they are a few of my favourite. 
He knew that. 

He came below my house and told me he bought me something. 

I was quick to judge and told him “you bought me something that’s going to die…

Like our relationship.”
He smiled and hugged and gave me a Packet of seeds. 

He told me “I know how you are. 

I know how you’re afraid of love. 

I know how you think. 
But I didn’t get you flowers. 

I don’t want to give you something that’s going to die. 

I want to give you hope. 


A possibility for something different. 

A belief…

Maybe in us. 

I bought you mix of seeds so that you can grow your own flowers. 

Your can grow your wild flowers just like your wild soul. 

I never want to tame you. 
You nourish your flowers to how you would nourish your being. 

Because I love you in all your wilderness and I love you in your warmth. 
Don’t ever calm down, my wolf.”

I for the first time didn’t know what to say. 

I didn’t know how to react. 

I started at him. 

A man for the first time is… nurturing me.
He standing in front of me

pouring love into my broken cracks. 

 Created by other men unwilling to stay. 

Using my body as a means to get their lustful desires satisfied. 

Their beatings still a reminder on my physical body. 

Their forcefulness still making me feel dirty inside. 

“Aatma prem” tattoos that I got on my wrists, which translates to self love. 

The highest form of love, mind you. 

Something I would just refuse to give to myself

But so damn easy for me to shower on other men. 

My tattoo a reminder not to harm myself. 

Because cutting can’t bring life to a self loathing soul. 

But it makes me feel something other than being numb. 

But most times I would cut because what was tearing me inside would never stop. 
Cutting because I was too tired to live. 

But cutting wrong arteries because I was too afraid to die. 

But the feeling of worthlessness never left. 
Unable to believe in love, because I can’t trust another human. 

Because I’m tired of loving broken souls who are unwilling to fix themselves. 

Let alone love me. 

So I love myself. 

A little bit more. 

A little bit more. 

A little bit more.

I love myself so much now to know I deserve better. 
He bought me seeds. 

This is different, I think. 

Did I mention 

He bought me seeds, instead of flowers. 
“But I didn’t get you flowers.” He said 

“I don’t want to give you something that’s going to die. 

I want to give you hope. 


A possibility for something different. 

A belief…

Maybe in us.”
And I’m scared. 

I’m slowly allowing someone else to love me.”- Natasha noel

Practice daily. Stay safe. Stay humble. 


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