You came to me
In darkest night
And set yourself atop me.
I wanted you
And you didn't stop me.
Finally got my chance
Did the horizontal dance
On broken floor boards.
Couldn't get enough of you
I wanted more
But I lost you
To an airplane and my own insecurities
I lost you to the sunrise
For you were just a dream
From which I had to wake.
It's more than I can take
I just want to go back to sleep
Where you're there for me to keep,
But I lost you.

~Midnight. Heaven is
bathing, the window open.
Just a kiss away.
—Jane Miller, "American Odalisque", The Gift of Tongues

He, the moon, and I
written March 2nd, 2021

My love and I
look up at our night skies
during this midnight time we share

our eyes looking at
the same stars
in our heavens so far apart

the moon baths us
in its gentle light
embracing both of us

I am envious of the moon
touching my love
when I can not

so I ask the moon
to kiss him for me
lovers are we
he, the moon, and I.

“I’ve put out a lot of little roots these two years,” Anne told the moon, “and when I’m pulled up they’re going to hurt a great deal."

Am i going to miss those roots as much as I think i am?

when you hold me in your arms,
i feel untouchable.
immortal.

The air is cold.
But I don't notice.
Because as I walk across the frozen lake,
I know I can't afford
to make a mistake.
The longer I look
At the fish that swim below,
A feeling grows inside me.
It's not fear.
But fascination.
We always say we wish
Time would slow.
And walking on water
Makes me realize it does.
We just don't notice.

Scars,
It's all I can see,
Hidden under clothes
Or hidden under me.

Never breaking,
But ill also never be taking,
The chance of you knowing me.

Isn’t it funny,
The happiness we pretend to have
Is the very thing
Holding us back from living.

She wanted to turn her pain into art
So she decided her skin was a canvas
But the brush was too sharp
And the lines were too deep
So red paint soaked through
And there was nothing other than tragedy
For the art was not beautiful
Like sunsets and flowers
It was harsh and sad
Even though the lines were clean
It left a mess on the bathroom floor
And the paint stained her arms
And she sat peacefully watching
The masterpiece she created
Be later hidden by long sleeves

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

“Falling in love” is a contradiction in itself, because in love there is only the rising, the ascending, not the falling.
You can not fall in love, but rather, rise.

What do you do
When you can't
cry?
What do you do
When you can't
Help?
What do you do
When there's no place
to go?
Your not stuck with anyone
but your self.

यही एक लम्हे में कट जाए उम्र सारी
की बस यही ज़िन्दगी की शाम हो जाए

अब ना हौसला है इससे उलझने का
ना ही जज़्बा इससे समझने का

एक भ्रम सा रहा है, अपना ये सफर
अब एक खौफ सा है, टूट कर बिखरने का

I wish you loved me
but most of all
I wish I loved myself

there are two types of sadness

there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home

I feel my petals drop,
Slowly on the ground.
Leaving voids, emptiness.
Leaving me undone.
I'm bare.
I'm barren.
Unsound.

thats what i used to think
its just a word that people like to throw around and abuse
there is no definition of the word love so it can't be real
no one can tell me what love is for me

a wave
it crashes down on me
as I sway
into your arms

a wave
had me drenched
in my unquenched
crave for you

my loveliness
let this wave press
gently onto us

our nature is not inkwells
our tongues are pens
our will's to live

Self love will always be
And will always be a struggle
It's the constant acceptance
Of you lacking, of your own flaws
It's the dissonance between
Settling for what's in store or
Trying to see what's for more

Self love is about
Answering the screams you hear
Inside your head once everything
Has settled and calmed

Self love is about
Addressing your fears, of what is
Keeping you awake at night

Self love is about
Letting your tears fall, letting your
Emotions take over every while
For self love is not about sparkles
For it is dark, painful, and tiring

It's hard, isn't it

Hello, my name is Manipulative
Or at least that's what people call me
I'm also inappropriate.
Along with aggressive and unkind.
Those are some of my other labels.
I'm a burden and a pressure
I'm not fair to others.

What do I want to be when I grow up?
I want to be Leah.
A young woman.
A human being, released from the chains
of the words of others.
I want to be free.

You are Shakespeare in a world of fools,
poetry in a world of broken words and
broken feelings.

in a world full of desperate cryings
and spiteful noises,
You are the jazz instrument that
makes it quiet in my mind.

You are love in the middle of
this war i am fighting with myself.

Your lips, pure art,
You are the smile
that brings colour
in this black-and-white world.

You
a dance in a summer rain,
You
a rebel lost in a world of rules,
a free bird,
a mystery,
You
the richest wine,
that makes my dark feelings
numb.

You,
beautiful as Vincent's Starry Night,
Your eyes are two blue moons
i get lost in
You,
the one who has a shelter in my mind,
You,
the purest feet that have ever stepped on my heart.

You,
the voice that lifts me from the abyss
whenever i fall.


To be or not to be is no longer a question,
to be with You
is the only answer.

It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you

they buried a poet
sprinkled his words over coffin
tossed a book into dirt alongside
and waited few decades
to have a leaf sprout
for winds to carry his lines
far
to one with open ears
another circle in a world of squares
have phrases strain down the cheeks
into ink smeared on paper


buried in a trashcan
in a diary
in a library
in dirt
everywhere really...

Bye bye New Jersey. I'm scraping my bone alone on my own with a
traffic cone. So long forever crapped-out Claire Trevor. My elbows
are scab-free & my knees are well as you boil in a fiery lake of hell.

Dare never clever Claire Trevor.

When I met you
We clicked
We synced
Were were meant to be
You said you loved me
And only me
You were mine
I was yours
Until you stopped texting me good morning and goodnight
Until you cancelled our dates to stargaze on the roof
Until our late night deep talks turned into occasional small talk
Until you stopped saying “i love you”
Until you found “her”
The one who's puzzle piece fit yours just a little bit better than mine
We gradually turned into strangers
Because you found “her”
I used to be “her”
And so did the “her” before me
And so will the “her” after
But there is no “her”
Because none of them will be just right

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.