I would here stories about soldiers
Those who wouldn't just fight
They would pull triggers with their speech
Their words were their weapons
Their eyes were their smiles
Their souls held lives
Of those to whom they vowed
To keep all promises
And hold onto justice
Peace in a quiet world
Will always be loud

Harvesting all the blooms
the cherry red dahlias and sunlit marigolds and buds with hues of ambient mornings thinking of how it feels to touch the sunrise and upholster the wind to this couch
where a turbulent heart rate tends to rest

wondering if in all the laughter and friendship and years and years
of things to talk about, to hold onto
to catch distances in my hands
and rest them on my palms
with all the wonderful things you will do

I work in my garden growing mornings
ones I pray will bring upon a rain
that will shower on the places
where you happen to be
that will sink into your grounds
and give you everything you need
To flourish

You wish for the good hours
When the sun wasn’t so eager to run away
But they’ll come again
When the daylight breaks through dawn

And you are granted another day

With my feet above the graves
I can see the ghosts of good laughs
And the souls of endless tears
The hearts that beated for each other's arms
But it's the sound of recklessness that swallows me,
Every other passerby looking to be free
To linger in the shadows of evils retreats
I heard them from far calling across the sea
I saw all the faces of hopeful need
Lost in the rubble are all of their screams
I can hear them calling out to me
Because what you can hear is what you can't see.

Sometimes there are words on blank pages,
If you look closely enough.
Sometimes there is music in the silence,
If you listen closely enough.
But it all comes down to if you see it,
The spaces between the letters,
The messages in my whispers,
Or my cunning subtlety that screams in your face.
Sometimes my eyes recite poetry,
But you’d have to look into them to know.
Sometimes there are prayers in my blank stares,
And sometimes my silence is a drum.

I sometimes sit on our old couch in the basement
And think about what we left in its recline
The leather is cold and distant
It is coated with the film of time
Stained with tears, laughter, and secrets Nestled in the crevices is all my growth
When I lay my head against it
1 can hear dialogue from the movies we watched
And faint conversations with ghosts

It's just you here
With this open wind

And a thought that craves to be embraced
By the arms of a voice daring enough
To bring it out into the open

It's just you here
With a beating heart harmonizing with the sea

Among waves of silenced love
and whispers of forgotten dreams
That colour this terracotta sand

It's just you here
Under the broken sky

A crying heart calls out to you
Looking for consolation
So, you put your hand on your chest.

Reminding it,
It's just you here

And you are alive

In a moment of serendipitous sweetness
You grimace bitterly,
you do not like walking down paths
covered in roses.
You would rather wallow alone,
Coughing up reasons
to be angry at this shallow world,

But it follows you buzzing
even when you’ve muted your colours.

Parallel tables down this neighbourhood street
I can see some of them from distant windows
One is vacated
One is full, people buzzing about
Hot food coming out of the kitchen onto the table
Bubbling, boiling soups, freshly tossed salads
Glasses brimming with new stories
Then, to the right, a person
Sits at their table alone,
One dim light, eating from a bowl
My guess is cereal.
Stories, stories, stories
Troubling questions
Awkward silence
He’s meeting the parents today
So, he fidgets and taps his feet
She’s telling them she got into college
He just got home from his best friend’s funeral
The other house is dark,
They always have dinner at six
But today, the lights are off
Trip? No.
They’re saying goodbye to grandma in the hospital
That couple in the duplex
I think it’s their delivery date
There’s that one house,
Everyone eats at a different time
Mom, daughter, and second daughter rotate washing dishes
but the older one just got married
it looks like they are still settling into the newfound gaps
her brother left today
a house that used to be loud and crowded
now, two empty nesters
they never eat at the table anymore
they put on the TV
with their plates
because the couch is a smaller space to fill
than these dining room tables

from your name
I have built a world
It's made of memories
And all the things you loved
I stole pieces of the moon
from the nights we could not sleep
where you told me stories of your past
and ways for me to be
and now they illuminate
all the city streets
of houses and homes
that you have grieved
and I paint this world
onto the walls of this place
that whisper your name
every day to me
so that I can walk past
and remember
all the ways you taught me to breathe

Between the freshly picked flowers,
and my never ending thoughts.
I found a place to leave my dreams,
So that when I find myself wandering,
Into unknown scapes of remembrance,
I can throw away petals that spell my name.
I’ll stand by the water, my hands full of flowers,
and I’ll throw them into their graves.
Knowing that one day when it all turns around,
They’ll be reborn and I’ll pick them again.
I’ll drift off to sleep and dream of the bay where I would let them go all over again.

The brilliance of a clouded morning
is often overlooked in memory of the sun
I have been twirling these thoughts
between my fingers for far too long
yearning to reach out through broken windows
to immerse my hand in a dense morning fog
not knowing what will find them
and to take this ache in my bones
that tends to follow me home
rinse it under the falling rain
waiting for the sun, waiting for a new day
until morning comes in a quiet dream
and I wring out these bones
and yesterday's clothes
throwing them into laundry baskets
woven from this tired soul
and taking it all out to dry

To fault Tomorrow
Would be wrong
She just sat down
And all she said was
“I'm not sure”
And here we are
Offended
Because Yesterday was certain
But only today did she say anything
About it
And Today, she's been talking for a while.
(We are tired of it)
But Tomorrow thinks she can waltz in here
And sit down
Be mysterious and all
I won’t have it
But then to fault Tomorrow
Would be wrong
When its me
At fault
For thinking too long
Too wide
Too soon
Too late
For thinking and thinking
Until it all collates
And we are in a muddle
A mess
Of a puddle
Bursting in tears
Laughter
And fears
And all my Wondering
She’s blameworthy
I'm the neurotic one
I can't sit still
Until Tomorrow
Doesn’t come back
Dressed as Today
When she will talk
And talk
And talk
And I will wish once again
For yesterday
When she was
All quiet
And obnoxious
And mysterious
All unknown
And we will be back in new roles
New bodies
New tales
All over and over and over and over

It was when the stars fell that I knew
I would never see the ocean blue
And when the sun stole my gaze
My eyes couldn't see the days
When the night was cloudy and greyed
Since then I never felt the breeze
Of sunset leaving me unseen
But the truth lies in the eyes of the sea
Where there is no place for me
Because I live in the winter greys
But breathe in the summer days
And in no world could I be two
Unless if I was with you

I’ve travelled to places where darkness lives ,
Places where sunrise has never been witnessed,
Navigating dark corners of navy blue mazes,
Night skies colour the ground with unfiltered darkness,
Rocky paths lined with slivers of moonlight,
But somewhere underneath the starless sky,
Is a city scape that lights the places where the sun doesn’t rise,
When the people smile together and unleash their joy,
The stars start to glimmer like simple reflections,
And slowly the sun starts to rise once again.

Rose tears cover the sky
a blanket of snow rests on the surface
and the sun hides behind blushing clouds
morning comes waving letters
written by golden moments
infused with memories of the past
and comes hope,

disguised as an uncertain future

Dear old me
I know how the future seems
As if time has you wringing out every last drop
Wondering if minutes spent are hours worth
But here we are
One crossroad after the other
You've taken paths paved
And those never walked
You've breathed in clouded air
And have gotten lost in the fog
You have climbed mountains
And descended valleys
You've seen clear skies
And cried with the rain
You may never know what's next; not even I do
But no matter where you think you'll go
Every tunnel you'll collide with
Always has a way through
Forwards and onwards
You'll make your way toward me
And I'll keep walking too

Forgotten as I drown in a droplet of rain,
Feeling the power of the water in pain
Silence devours our only spirit or soul
Experiencing fear as you set your goal
The fire burning in your feet
The ache in your fingers To feel the heat
The shallow resemblance of cold blooded sensation
The calling of reckless invitation
To stand on the edge of a cliff in your heart
To taste the bitterness of a sour aimed dart
Then to break the silence with a whisper so loud
To write a melody that joins the crowd
Hoping to feel the turns of earth
As it spins on its axis with every new birth
A new adventure into the open
As life is precious once it's broken

In disguise,
a hopeless wonder
Apprehensive and paranoid
I leap towards the open
my feet sticking to the field grass
My memories build worlds and voids,
steps and ladders shy away from my path Something tells me to climb upward
latch onto these fears I house within my shoes,
maybe take off the glasses I wear as an excuse,
to ignore your outstretched hand
But in disguise, a hopeless wonder
A small shallow breath
Accepting defeat against my stubbornness
This fear is nothing but distance I strive to keep
Because if I give you all of these words
and instead of grasping them tightly
they slip between your fingers
fallen, forgotten, meaningless.
then what?

The time when the sky is greyed to hues of poignant blue
And the mist haunts the the ground
The cool breeze slitthers around your ears with secrets and stories to tell
When warmth is just a distant memory
And the sun seems to have escaped the endless loop of its cycle
Yet it's not night nor is it day
It's not dawn nor dusk
It's when you unravelled in the chaos of the dead leaves
And payed your debts with blankets of ice
But your grudges held their place in your sleepless nights
And your restlessness laughed in the face of forgiveness
Your stubbornness smirked at the idea of redemption
Yet you still wondered why peace escaped you.

I once poured my heart out onto some letter
Read it whenever you find yourself reminiscing about your childhood
On my tongue remains those words, the ones we stole from the graves of poets
They try to take shape into conversations, reaching my lips but still falling short
So they live out their days,
Becoming old memories
leaving behind the bitterness of sea salt

Words we never exchanged

Kites fly
when the wind carrying your words
Touches them,
And with them they take the dreams
that align
the stars in your eyes.


Whenever you speak of the things,
you wish to do

I’ll borrow the past With nothing to spare
Nothing to give, and nothing to share
But rather I’d hope to steal my youth
And run from the future back to you
Some place we could hide in the shade of today
And disappear before a new day
And I know that when I’ll open my eyes
another day would have passed me by
You’ll only be a memory never to last
So instead I’ll keep dreaming of borrowing the past

You...
The light I never saw
The morning of despair
The remembrance of a soul so fair
A world of forgotten happiness
And a day of burning desire
Countless light reflections of everything we missed
And thoughtless chatter, I'd admire
And if it was still lacking
I'd take photos of us too
Paste them in my dreams
And keep them just for
...you

A savoury taste lingers on the sailor’s tongue,
As he reaches out into the angry waves
To pull the moonlight from it’s rays
And winds its threads around a spool
Through the night he stays awake
Rapidly sewing together his dreams
He finds himself searching for a lighthouse built from his insecurities

But a fluorescent light dances above,
Far beyond a silver lining,
Left behind by a frozen voice
Of a past self lost in the eye of a hurricane.

Beautiful sea breeze
How quickly you become a storm
You’re built of resilience
You bring with you an entourage
Of silver lining and moon tides
Sailor’s boats and lighthouse guides

Yet you still shy away from burning bridges
That monsters love to cross

In endearing silence,
Exists the stillness of black and white,
The painter holds the palette against their chest,
And their heartbeat colours in the pigments,
As their brush strokes the canvas,
Droplets of light begin to surround you,
Like floating fireflies, or stars on earth,
And in your eyes, colour blooms,
You sit, framed, in black and white,
But the smile you wear when you stare at wonder,
Brings your colours back to life,
The painter captures a portrait,
Made from the paper of destiny,
A picture of you finding yourself,
As the silence waves goodbye,
Leaving behind echoes of your hopeful laugh.

I've seen foreign stones bleed out fountains of wanderlust down your waterfalls
I've seen shards of mirrors swimming in the ripples of your sea
The one's that still hold the reflection belonging to the wandering passerby on your streets
I've watched as droplets of ink from a sunset sky pour onto your maps
Colouring in the roads that lead to your history
I've seen the flowers in your gardens spread their fragrance onto the sleeves of those lost in your alleys
And the soil underneath them surrounds the seeds of friendship that they leave behind
I've seen hope in the layers of your canyon rock
And resilience in the avalanches of snow that tumble down your mountains
I've seen the architecture of your emotions towering over my outstretched hand

And now I sit by the water trying to paint a picture of your roads on its surface
My hand reaches out into the distance, waiting for the light of your moon to embrace it
And I watch as the stars paint constellations that remind me of you
I dwell in the lonesome nostalgia, recollecting every fading memory
Hoping that when the sun glitters on the surface of your water
You'll see me sitting there, painting a picture of you

I found all your written letters,
The ones coloured with flowing ink.
Creating abstract memories on paper,
Sewing together every bone in body,
and weaving together fragments of forgotten seconds.
Wherever you were, I found your ink traced flowers,
Preserved within pages of foreign stories,
Resembling the token of lost time,
Covered in graphite that has travelled seas,
Oceans made of everlasting memories.
And with every word I read,
I set a dozen flowers free.
The ones traced in scribbled ink,
And watch them as they aged.
Hoping if I let them go, I would find something new,
And that time would set you free, every time your words reached me.

Amidst the September blues,
And cold aching wind
That lingers around your bones,
A hopefulness lives
Bright in your eyes,

Reminding you of the dreams you will meet, when you begin to feel alive.

If I could see the world I'd paint it so the blind could see it too
So that they could hover there fingers over the strokes of France and Italy
Or maybe they could smell the culture from the continental divides
Or maybe they could just envision the architecture at its easel
But what's the point when they can already see.
When they can touch the world and feel the boundless gravity
The kind that holds its ground in rich escapades
Or maybe they could hear the gunshots of the hate
But what's the point when paintings will warp soon.
And even with all the paper paintings and all the paper planes,
We might even see the world too.

Maybe someday I could breathe
Maybe someday I could see
Maybe someday I could feel
Maybe someday I could heal
Maybe someday I might wake up
Maybe that day I might just learn
Maybe I'll know why the sky was blue
Or maybe I'll know why I loved you

Find me a world of my own
Tell me my story, tell it over the phone
Let the static blur the lines
Between crowded rooms and lonely times
And if the world is looking for me
Tell them I’ll be in the clouds
Finding a place to breathe out loud
Amongst my dreams and all my visions
I will breathe in my own illustrations
So if the world comes looking for me
Tell them the Nefelibata is finally free

I float in the wind,
Bask in the glowing sun
And hope to meet the sky
But time becomes reality
And my dreams disappear
But before then you’ll save me
You’ll bring me to the clear
And the future, uncertain
Waits at the corner
With a letter from a lost one
And a message from my fears
Telling me to climb the mountains
The ones I walked around
To feel the air sharpen
As I get higher from the ground
And channel my past
Wait for you there
So you can turn back time
And I can reappear

I could sit by the blue waters, the ones that run seamlessly through my imagination for days. Hours, I could spend useless hours, worth millions to a lost soul just wandering down the alleyways of the darkest corners of my mind. Instead, I spend my time like I spend my money, I throw it towards spiral galaxies and treasures, but the unforgiving wind has its ways. Migraines. Those are the worst tricks of all time. Like punishments, they crawl up the sleeves of my soul and eat me alive. I feel that way a lot. Sometimes it’s not even a migraine, it just feels like one. It’s the gruelling existence of the daily hustle and bustle, the race to the top, or anything that has to do with a society that really twists my head into tangled knots. No matter how much “breathing” I do the antidote that is meditation only works for a second. I go outside to get fresh air, but once I reach the front step, I’m back to feeling crowded. Is that a feeling? What does it mean to feel? I don’t know, but you must understand. You must’ve felt it too. At least if you’re human you have, so have you? You know, I like to escape sometimes, but the mindfulness articles won’t tell you how. They’ll tell you to breathe. Like you’re doing right now. Try holding your breath. I heard it cures hiccups, well I read it an article. I read everything in an article. What I should eat, do, breathe, love, …feel…I read all that in those articles. You probably read them too. Anyways, I was talking about escape. Well for starters I like to close my eyes, and then envision the stars. I don’t see that much of them these days. Cars must breathe too, so they hide the stars away. But you’d rather get to your workplace then see the stars, right? The same place that makes your headache. Yeah, me too. I also read we are not the same, but I read that we are the same. I don’t know what to believe. I know what to believe. I hear you, but do you hear me? Am I yelling loud enough? Am I talking in my sleep? Oh, I know! I’ve been screaming this whole time, but in my head, on the bus…where I am quiet, so you can’t hear me scream. I think you can hear me; I see it in your eyes. You look sad, I am sad, we are all sad. You’ll never know though, because I posted a smiley face online, so now you think I’m happy. I saw you posted a video of you dancing the night away, your extravagant wedding, your new rooftop apartment, you’re probably happy. I heard you crying on the phone. I thought you were happy. Maybe I’m happier even though I’m sad. I think you’re sad, but that’s not what the articles say. They say you’re happy, you’re in Paris today! So, I believe them, cause that’s what I do. I’m a commoner, but that can’t be you. You have time, I spend time and you spend money. Keep spending, I read that you’ll be happy. I swear! I read it, online…you’ll be happy, I swear.

Chase after moments and collect them like I collect the stars in your eyes.

Dance with the moonlight when you’re feeling ok, and I’ll watch your smile as I find mine.

Tell me your sorrows and rain down your greys. I’ll water the garden that you planted in my heart.

Kiss my forehead and watch me as your lips move to pray, I’ll keep your hands within mine.

Don’t just be my mother, be my moon and my sky, and I’ll dream of the night time.

They told of a place where streets didn't collide
They spoke of a town where visions compromised
Beyond the outskirts
Beyond my taste
It's places like this
That give me reasons to roam
It's times like then I don't wanna go home

Pictures of you: saturated. In motion blur.
we cast nets into the ocean of lights
to catch flames and fireballs
that ignite to the sound of rain
and resist their inherent nature
to extinguish
and so do you,
in rebellion

There was nothing between my senses,
Not a touch of conscience or rebellion,
I felt the quiet whispers of insanity surround me,
With a burden of wishes trying to flee,
My mind was Troubled by a lovers key,
Slowly ignited with one who can see ,
After all I've lost all sense of humanity,
I've forgotten feeling, hearing, seeing but mainly I've forgotten how to believe,
I've lost all my senses to insanity,
Trying to fly away from troubled unspoken symphonies,
Like flying  birds, I wish to flee,
I've lost all my senses trying to be,
One who was sane
And one who could see,
I brought down barriers of prosperity,
Trying seek flying birds as they flee the cold of the melting north,
After all I've lost all my senses to irony

Although I am a dreamer
I wasn't really free
Even though I was a realist
It was a dreamer I would be
Because I was lover
I couldn't really see
And since I became a hater
I was always hating me
Then I was a sister
But one I couldn't really be
And then I was giver
But Giving was not free
And someday I'll be a mother
Only then I'll be me.

Underneath the moonlight you’d sit
Somewhere where roses would be
Just so you could smell them at night
And in some other corner of the world
I sat surrounded by the sea
Of your wave like memories
Soaked like petals in pouring rain
I’m dreaming of blossoming
And taking away your pain

I often find myself seeking validation from words that were never written for my tongue

Caging myself behind walls made of letters still undefined

pacing the corners of my fears wondering what is being said in another’s mind

I run from the words that define my faults, disowning them and leaving them behind

But I still carve them into the crevices of my skin, to remind myself of everything that I’ll never be

Then, I write a stranger's name beside them so that I can blame someone else for my insecurities.

These sounds of silence
Rumble and roar
I’m in a constant state of questioning
Asking what love is,
Filling in the gaps between all my questions
With the things we saved for March
Relishing in the idea of spring
And what it means to bloom
Peeling away at citrus,
Reaching for the plums and nectarines
In the icebox, scarfing down cooled melon
Picking at peonies and daffodils
Thinking about tea but hating its taste
I was never a morning person
But the sun these days is so new

But it’s when the winter creeps back
And I awake to a morning frost
Bits of past, pieces of December
Pine trees and heating cars
I remember the worth of remembering
And the reality of how time moves
And how all these questions
Sprinkle down with snow, rain,
sun rays, or leaves
never leaving, never eased
only knowing that I don’t know
and that seasons don’t return; they just pass

I saw the constellations in your dreams through a telescope

The navy blue skies that reside in your eyes were painted with nebulas of hope  

A figure made of a million stars moved around to the music of your heart

And a dreamy eclipse wearing a ghostly white waited for a new start

With just one glance into your hopes,  I was staring at the sun, the moon and the ethereal skies

It seems I was looking into the windows of the galaxy to escape to a world of glowing fireflies

Under the sea of stars
I danced with my hopes and dreams
they haunted the night sky
As ghosts of what used to be
Blanketed by the innocence
Exposed to times greatest tricks
Lied the happiness of a hungry heart
Made from the starlit sea
That swam in an ocean
Sewed with loose seams
That let the smiles slip
Whenever you’re asleep
And under the sea of stars
Danced an untamed me
That hadn’t seen the light of day
But I was always lurking
Alongside my hopes and dreams
Swimming in the shadows
Of nighttime’s greatest greed
When man fell asleep to music
Made by the soul hunters
That took my dreams from me
Only to place them under the sea
Where stars of past hopes
Waited for my forgotten dreams
To once again dance alongside me

I’ve been trying to leave in silence
Escape the ruthless routines
Take my belongings and run off in to the sky
Hide my fears and escape before sunrise
But every time I find myself half way there
The ground grips my feet and my eyes start to stare
And I find myself entranced by the wonders of the universe
For every time I run, I come back for another day
I try to leave in silence but I can’t seem to escape
every time I try, the stars block my way
And they always take me home, where my heart tends to stay

Your heart rests in the palm of your father's sacrifice.
Your breath rests in the nostalgic wind that passes by him
When he remembers his past and reflects on your future.
Your colours run down the lines of your mother's smile,
Whenever she raises her hands to the sky,
Praying for you and a little more time,
Because she left her beating heart back home,
To become foreign and unknown only so you could grow.

Their complexions are painted with fatigue,
Because when you're sound asleep,
they run toward bordered walls,
so that when you wake up in the morning,
There will be open doors at your feet.

When a nostalgic wind passes by them,
They'll tell you stories of their childhood,
And they'll leave each word,
With a taste of reminiscence,
A hint of stolen years reflected in the teardrops,
That rest in the corner of their eyes,
And yet when they look towards you,
In seconds your reflection overshadows everything they once used to dream.

All for you...

Sometimes, it feels as if my arms
are reaching out to the sky
as gravity pulls everything I am
all the way down, beyond the ground
into those little spaces
inside my head
where I scold myself
and say everything is dead
where I run my hands
against jagged edges
looking for reasons to bleed
but even then, like two ropes
tight around my wrists
or better yet, two hands
with an endless grip
hope, or the glass dish on the top shelf
whatever it is, it pulls and pulls
till I flood, and those little spaces
vanish, momentarily

for all the faith I have in humanity
Maybe a starved child could come by
With just a nickel

I swear I have lost it,
I called out for help
Not a soul to here my cries,
Not a voice to stop my goodbyes,
I swear I'll lose it
If you forget me too