it's still dark.
where people still sleep. obsessed
with small dolls; themselves, you, me.
fighting against others in their head
all closed off, pointing fingers.
supposedly a paradise.
those who sit alone, watching their lives
turn into hell, isolated for them.
handcuffed.
until they let themselves go.
still. finally at peace.
sleeping forever.
people who sit in pairs,
declaring themselves a couple.
connected.
from days to years.
it all ends eventually.
is it worth it?
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 4:25 PM UTC
eyes puffed up like a children's balloon,
red between the yellow, green, blue hues.
another sleepless night, staring.
imagining tally marks. counting.
1, 2 and 3. scraped yesterday.
a pointless distraction, done anyway.
in the middle of shouting voices.
and then 4, 5 and 6.
forced with a broken sharpener.
a sudden loud snap. now grey
with lost shades and dull laughter.
loud in an empty birthday party.
7, 9, 13 then 21.
I'm not counting anymore.
21, 28, 23, 32.
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 3:33 PM UTC
That's enough folds, enough roses,
a dozen more tulips placed in rows of four,
then rolled together into one small bouquet,
to be given to this imaginary person
who I'm too scared to ask.
and so I would rip them
disfiguring their useless shape to confetti,
falling in love with the air as
it dances, twirls, and floats.
Happy, as if I'm jealous.
lost in spirals of thoughts,
behind the taped up lies
waving, like a white flag.
Surrendering with white flowers.
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 10:24 AM UTC
once more, i am confined by my thoughts,
running from lilac butterflies and
delusions, all bottled with the lid ******* tight.
Questioning their honesty, their motive,
as they cast a net in an empty sea,
a sea of beauty yet a sea of dread.
catching nothing but empty promises,
an empty meaning, an empty end.
amongst the harsh sounds of static,
whispering comments, threats.
how everyone turns their backs,
pointing with their invisible fingers.
directing the blame,
directing it to me.
Jan 3
Jan 3, 2026 at 5:07 PM UTC
Leaves that spiral from a lone tree,
All orange, hazel and amber.
Watching our memories fade,
Each alive and colorful,
Now lies dead amongst our feet.
Our hands withered by the bitter wind.
Numbed by our bitter thoughts,
That cut through with timeless despair,
Nothing but dull pain, all black and white.
Nov 3, 2025
Nov 3, 2025 at 11:14 AM UTC
Is it a time where
both would walk together,
forever,
On hazel leaves,
scattered like small honeybees.
Is it where they would confide,
and together, they fly.
through each gentle look.
Inside their own world,
while all else gets blurred.
Is it how people
become alive,
In each time they smile.
while they enjoy their presence,
in every passing step.
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 1:14 PM UTC
Once, they were happy,
She smiled and laughed,
When he asked and flushed,
They would walk together,
Their hands, intertwined,
Like folds in origami,
Strong but fragile.
Then, it begins to freeze,
their hands quietly pulled away,
like flowers withering,
no more warmth,
no more laughs,
no more shades of blue, purple or yellow,
no more "us".
Now, I would rewind those times,
the good times.
Nothing more than just memories,
Now stuck in the past,
creased into the folds of time
forever, like what it was meant to be,
but now?
Maybe, it was my fault.
Maybe, it was yours.
Maybe, it was us.
There were still,
So many questions to be asked.
So many years we could have had.
Maybe it was that.
I always loved you.
Jul 10, 2025
Jul 10, 2025 at 6:27 PM UTC
A gentle ember burns,
with orange lines that
dance in a slow tango,
trailing small hints of warmth.
Glowing brighter, brighter, brighter...
I see a star colliding,
a shattering of brilliant blue light,
floating across the lilac sky,
expanding carefully in the void,
forming patterns of disarray.
Glowing brighter, brighter, brighter..
May 14, 2025
May 14, 2025 at 6:04 PM UTC
It's now been years,
moments frozen behind glass.
with our fingers interlaced,
like lattices of coloured paper,
neatly folded into swans.
Bold, elegant, proud.
a small army of comfort,
in the small battlefield.
with rows of paper flowers,
all blue, lavender and crimson.
once alive with our laughter.
squares of paper,
left strewn across the floor.
torn, ripped and split.
now burnt with hate,
burnt with ruined passion.
leaving a charred memory,
scattered among the ashes,
drifting away, gently.
Like the swans you used to fold.
Mar 30, 2025
Mar 30, 2025 at 11:51 AM UTC