Ya know—

               What?

Ya know, I—

                You what?


...I’d prefer if you didn’t interrupt.

He moves like moonlight spilled on tired streets,
A hush in the chaos where softness repeats.
Eyes like dewdrops on windows at dawn,
Holding stories that ache but still carry on.

He is a sketch left half in charcoal and gold,
A canvas of silences tenderly bold.
Not thunder or fire — he is the breeze,
That touches your soul then leaves with ease.

A book with no title, a line never said,
He’s coffee gone cold that still warms your head.
A lighthouse that waits with a gentle light,
Though no ship may come — he stays through the night.

He speaks in pauses, in glances, in air,
A poem unwritten but floating somewhere.
He is not yours, and may never be,
But he lives in the corners where dreams run free.

So you sit with your heart pressed against a screen,
Loving a shadow that feels serene.
For not all love must touch or stay—
Some simply glows and walks away.

stripped of delusion
stark truth is painfully freeing
or painfully revealing
but truth stands all the same

it is said i write abstract, in time to save

your feelings. you asked me to explain,

i did so lightly. the other said no one else

dare ask.



i tell you it is a full and complicated story

that may upset.





i wrote it quickly using shape,colour,

metaphor and symbol.



was loathe to read it for i may cry.

you wish a pretty picture yet i cannot

make it.



i thank you for asking, where others

do not read.



the writing circled

The more it hurts

The more you realize

The depth of your own love.

A rabbit hopped through the forest, grazing upon the grass when a venomous snake appeared nearby. "Come with me, little rabbit," he hissed, "You will never have to graze again or wander the forest in fear, I will protect you."

The rabbit looked at the snake, unsure of his words. "I've heard stories of you and how you **** my brethren, what you speak is not true!"

"Do not judge me by my brethren's actions, I am different from the othersss, I will not harm you" the snake's tongue flicked wildly as it slithered closer to the rabbit. Her heart beat faster, something inside her telling her to not go near the snake, but the prospect of safety too tempting to pass up.  

The rabbit hesitated before moving closer to the snake, but a bear rumbled "Stop, little rabbit, the stories you have heard are truth, you know it's truth too. Do not let him draw you in like he did your fallen kin" the bear points to the grass near the snake's tail. When the rabbit looked, she noticed a tuft of fur  wafting in the breeze. The snake hissed

"Simply a tuft in the grass that could have come from anywhere!" his body wriggled in frustration.
The rabbit noticed this and backed away
"Notice how he becomes impatient the more this conversation goes on. " the bear pointed out, "Why do you think this is?"

"I simply wish for my new friends safety! The longer we talk, the longer your safety is unsecured!" The snakes tongue flicked as his patience grew thinner.

The rabbit stepped back further, her breath unsteady. She glanced at the tuft of fur again, then at the bear, whose eyes held no flicker of deceit, only concern and strength.

Despite the rabbit's fear and the bears wisdom, the rabbit moved towards the snake. As she did, she could see his den nearby and looked deeper into it.
The closer she got, the clearer the den and inside the den became.

The snake followed her closely as the bear quietly growled. Before she stepped inside, she saw something in the den. A curved white object came into her view, it jutted out of the ground, splintered, drawing her eyes in as if it was a final warning of the snake's true intentions.

The rabbit backed away from the den, "What is that poking out of the ground?" She asked. The snakes tounge flicked through the air, but he had no answer. The rabbit feared the worst, turned towards the bear and ran to him.

"Where do you think you're going?" The snake hissed, the rabbit had no response as her legs moved for her. The snake struck at her and grabbed a tuft of fur, the rabbit narrowly escaping.

She hid under the bear as the snake sputtered and coughed. "You insolent fool!” the snake hissed. “My trust is destroyed because of you!”

The rabbit, catching her breath beneath the bear’s warm fur, stared him down.

“You’re wrong. I escaped your lies and your maw. You don’t lose trust when someone runs from your bite—you lose control.”

The snake reeled at her words, his coils twisting in rage. With a final hiss, he slithered away into the brush, eyes already scanning for another easy heart to devour.

The bear curled protectively around the rabbit, his breath slow and steady.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he murmured. “I feared losing you.”

The rabbit nuzzled into his fur, her body trembling with release. The forest, once thick with deception, now felt quiet. And for the first time, she felt safe.

I ended up at the wrong time,
in the wrong place,
carrying a dead flashlight
that instead of shining,
offered me an elusive shape—
a spectacle of shadows.

What was a hand
became a dog barking on the wall,
or a ghost-rabbit
vanishing into nothingness.

My rational “I” still asks why,
and I have no answer.
I just smile with sadness:
that was the script,
that had to happen.

Bittersweet medicine,
already swallowed,
the side effects dissolved.
And I boarded another train.

Writing?
I only wanted an ordinary life,
with some humor
and a pinch of self-irony.

Saturn joined,
Saturn divided,
at 8:18 a.m.

Maybe we humans
don’t have the stillness
to break free from the pattern
of silver rings
made of dust and ice,
imposed by an ego.

Maybe we prefer
the safety of the shadow,
ice melts in daylight.

My story:
a new-old flat,
my imperfect poems…
Really?
For this, I was made?

I’m not a poet.
I’m a living voice,
taming incomprehension
convincing myself
that dawn is near,
and I’m strong enough to rise,
not looking anymore
for cold mirrors.