Sitting at the desk you used for studying,
Sitting on the chair that meant pride and wisdom,
Sitting in silence, in grief.
For oneself, for freedom, grief of a hopeless mind.
The trip, so vivid, the colours,
I feel it, I'm trembling, pleasure induced by shameful vices,
So broken in unexplained happiness,
The desk is covered, it's shameful, disgraceful...
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
The wind...
The wind, it fades away the voices,
Each promise, the hopes.
It fades...the time, the love, your kisses
In wind, the Sun is hiding the brightness of your soul.
It fades... the power of your words, the pain, the noises.
The noises of my mind when the time will fade us.
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 11:19 AM UTC
Sometimes I sit and write,
Poems about you and I,
About me and love, and love and sorrow
But in the mirror of my heart,
I realized they are all about me and I.
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 9:35 AM UTC
So silent, her despair,
The will to be seen , by whom she called her universe
Shallow and narrow, her soul
and her body
Inked with the memory of thy heaven
But her skies turned grey, each time you looked away.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 6:05 AM UTC
In the depth of my solitude,
I can hear the noise of your silence.
The bloom of your longing,
I hear the skies, their whisper,
telling me you're gone.
I can feel the touch of your skin,
So biblical, so tender, most painful memory.
I can hear your words in this chaos of my soul,
The sorrow will be gone,
But you, my darling, you will never know.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
What can be more painful than a raging soul?
A body full of scars
A body drowned in suffering;
Dysmorphic image of a broken soul
So thin ,so close to nothing ,
So broken ,so close to sorrow
In pain, the body lies
The inked image of this broken heart.
Write poems not scars in thy skin,
Scripted history, the body is your friend.
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 8:23 AM UTC
I can hear the chaos of your promises
I can hear the lies, so strong I begun to take as truth
I feel the silence of your heart,
Emotions far too lost .
So frigile her heart became;
The blades of your words as pen on paper
Inked her soul ,her love ,her sorrow.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 8:50 AM UTC
Before everything
i. I never knew four letters could melt
menthol candy-like, hydrochloric acid on my tongue
and keep burning it in different degrees
I had to swallow back.
ii. That there would come a time
I'd have to baptize the pain in my chest like seasons
robbing me lungfuls
on January, September and December nights.
iii. That my blood was really ink I needed to stop using
before my skin turned paper-like.
iv. That my heart had an epicenter pumping a magnitude of earthquakes
that made me tremble helplessly in its intensity;
and that they were man-made calamities
followed by harsh, heavy, whipping tsunamis
to flood my grave of bleeding, jagged fault lines.
v. That aftereffects lasted longer than treatment itself,
and that I didn't need any professional diagnosis to know
I was terminal
from the same drug that made butterfly-strokes in my veins,
whose arms withheld the only elixir to this malady.
vi. I named my sickness, my pain, my agony like orphaned children, after you--
a rare disease
the doctors didn't even know about yet.
vii. I did and I doubted
but a part of me beat signals
that echoed off the cave walls of my skull
that I knew.
viii. Before everything,
I have been warned
but I chose to listen to the soothing, wrong, hopeful voices
"He means no harm,".
ix. You began spreading like an epidemic-- a tumor to a colony of cells all over me-- until I became you;
a reflection of familiar suffering and mortality, slowly withering away.
In the end, I didn't even have you to blame
for letting me overdose from intakes
of my own **** bitter medicine and unforgivable mistakes.
x. I guess, this was how you wanted the price to be paid.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 8:42 AM UTC
The echo of your soul
Singing waves in the ocean of her heart
Sound of a perfect orchestra.
The silence of thy heart,
Rhythm of most beautiful poem.
The touch of thy skin upon her scarred body,
Blessing of an angel.
Sing for her soul, the sound of thy
voice is heaven.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC