Practicing Soft by Anisha Drall

I can practice being soft.
I can practice shrinking into myself till
I dissipate in the heat of your glance,
I can practice being palatable.
I can practice till I master the coquettish look,
till I master looking like an object, till
I master forgetting myself,
I can learn how to be soft.
I can learn how to agree with every
word you say, how to wear
whatever you like, how to
do whatever you like,
I can be soft.
I can chip away at myself till I am no longer harsh,
I can change my personality like a dress, I’ll
make it match your eyes, I’ll make it match your tux,
I’ll make myself simply complement you.
I can be soft.
I can forget about my opinions and
my thoughts, instead I’ll be a reflection
for yours; a mimic to flatter you,
a woman who’ll lie to you.
I can be soft.
I can try to fold away all my problems; I can
try to cut away the parts you don’t like, the
parts that don’t like you; what will be left then?
Will I exist?
Or will I have shrunk so small that
you won’t be able to see me?
Will you be able to see me?
Will I be able to recognize me?
I can try.
I can train my eyes to spot the lies tucked into
the pleats of the dresses you liked, smeared along
with the lipstick you chose,
dangling from the earrings you bought,
I can lie.
But I won’t.


Anisha Drall
Anisha Drall is a high school student living near New Delhi, India. She spends the majority of her time listening to Taylor Swift, reading books, and perusing Tumblr. Her current favourite word is furtive. You can find more of her work at



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