I stay up waiting
for the sun to rise,
only to be
hypnotized
watching the
moon stride
across the speckled
night sky.

No one wants to buy a poetry book
Of an unknown poetess
Who does she think she is?
Collecting words on pages
Words that are revealing white spaces
Pages that are meticulously numbered
No one wants to buy a poetry book
That appeared out of the blue
To claim its pages carries poems
Are they good enough?
Perhaps a line, or two...
No one wants to buy a poetry book
What would they find in it?
Dreams unfulfilled or pains that still bleed
No one wants to buy a poetry book
That grew like the freshest blade of grass
Fragile and hidden in the cruel moss
No one wants to buy...

If my teardrops were wishes
life would be filled with the sweetest of kisses.

To this day,
your name
still hurts my tongue
but I still say it anyway.
Sometimes I like to
hear my soul
gently tear itself
apart.