Even in the dark;
the sun hidden beneath clouds
smog thick and heavy dousing the streets with gloom
still there’s singing;
in balconies couples dance
the laughter of children playing in the yard despite the weather-
How wonderful humankind can be
when we stand together against the odds.
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 12:42 PM UTC
I want roses to grow inside my lungs
Its okay if their thorns ***** my sides, and the blood pools inside my chest
Its okay so long as
I can ***** rose petals
And choke on their ever growing vines.
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 3:06 PM UTC
i wish i didn’t have to shield my eyes from the sun
like i have to when i look at you
i wish i didn’t tremble in the snow
like i do every time you touch me
-i love you like the year loves the changing seasons
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 3:05 PM UTC
emptathy is killing me
from the crying women on TV
to the bitter events in the news
from friends drowning in nostalgia
To the characters of books
empathy is killing me
it makes me feel bonded to beasts i should steer clear of
their fangs tear deep
and yet i cry for them, and what they once were
empathy has killed me
my heart a bloodied pulp sitting still in my chest
and i smile
knowing i was the cause of my demise.
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 2:59 PM UTC
they see my scars and ask ‘what are those?’
i tell them they are battle wounds,
they tell me they are ugly,
i tell them scars are not meant to be beautiful,
they’re meant to prove that i’ve existed
they tell me i can remove them from my skin
i tell them why remove a part of me
to look like somebody i never was?
-don’t belittle me for fighting through hard nights with steel
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
your touch drips like liquid laughter
soothing, seeping over sutured wounds
each course of lips on skin
and scars
a string of unsaid words
that sting and etch onto my being
a litany of swears
and unanswered cries
the next morning we forget all about them
and presume our day with bright smiles
and little winks
the bitter coffee on our tongues
never tasting sweeter
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 10:58 AM UTC
"I don't know how you do it" man sighed.
"Do what?" pondered nature.
"All this," said man,
*"you're kind whilst being cruel
breathing life upon some and inhaling it from others
you're tranquil yet hide a sea of storms inside your chest
you're a contradiction,
with no end to it;"*
Nature smiled, knowing eyes gazing upon mankind.
*"A contradiction I may be
in your eyes, yet-
I'm neither kind nor cruel;
Neither benignant nor malevolent.
I simply am.
Then again, she breathed,
What you see in yourself, in your kind;
is what you reflect upon me."*
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 4:47 AM UTC
I feel my innocence
slipping away
through fingers clasped as tight as
sand slipping to the ocean floor
Thick waves engulfing it and tying it down
like anchors
around my neck i feel the weight
of the opportunities i’ve missed out
and i’m not sure how much longer i can keep afloat
without letting the doubts sink me down by hidden treasure chests of siren calls.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
I don’t want to be called pretty, don’t want to be thought of as pretty, don’t want to be pretty.
I’ve wasted so many years of my life trying to be pretty, skinny, girly, cutely, and another box of labels i tried to fit onto my ragged skin to no avail
Don’t call me pretty. Don’t call me cute.
I’m not.
I’m smart. I’m thoughtful. I’m kind. I’ve got softness hidden in the bottom of my heart and I’m proud it stuck with me for this long.
I’ve got tired happy eyes and a round nose and hair unruly, soft curves and thick thighs.
I’ve got scars that show I’m more than skin and bones, scars to prove I’m a survivor, a warrior. Scars to prove I’ve never given up.
I’m not pretty. I never will be.
And you know what?
I’ve never been more content than the moment i realised
i am enough.
without your labels, without your compliments, without your back-handed insults or catcalls.
i am enough.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 1:08 PM UTC
It's 5:00 am
The world is asleep
everything seems still
(Except the heartbeat of the sea that never seems to cease,
soothing troubled thoughts with its infinite pulse)
The world is a clash of still and rural.
The sky blushes the softest shade of pink, complementing the pale shade of blue, as soft as a mother's kiss on her newborn child's forehead.
The skyline, though etched with the softest colours, maintains its ferocity-never letting us believe it is not our governor, the ruler and observer of all.
Vivid colours clash and compete, biting each other like siblings in a fight, one taking over the other until nothing is left but the slow fade of the moon's unearthly glow.
Through the quiet still of dawn, the first rural sounds are made; the first tweeting of an early-risen bird, the booming of the car of the hard-working man; the lazy paddling of someone who the God of slumber had yet to hastily kiss goodnight (dawn is this mans' lover).
Surrounded by this beauty, by this infinite potential of hollow peace,
of momentary silence,
my thoughts seem to cease as well, in order to pay respects to this natural shrine of artistry.
The only thing tying me to my feet being the bitter taste of caffeine and smoke,
the only thing tying my mind to my body being the constant whisper of waking nightmares
though they too seem to still in awe; letting me cut them open and pulse them out into ink and paper.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 12:35 PM UTC