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4.4k · Feb 2021
I Don't Burn Bridges.
Him Feb 2021
I don't burn bridges, I preserve those wonders of old. I let the waters rise, whilst I remain underneath its ridges and contours.

I don't burn bridges, not because that I am mature.

I don't burn bridges, because I am alone; and a bridge is a well travelled road.
1.9k · Feb 2021
Him Feb 2021
Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

Both are now withered black, and dead.

Much like my love for you.
1.8k · Jan 2021
My Heart.
Him Jan 2021
My heart is fragile and frail, and few are the words that she so sparingly; so seldom says.

"I love you."

My heart, she says.
She speaks... now you need only listen; for she rarely repeats.
1.6k · Dec 2021
Discordant Squatter.
Him Dec 2021
I am haunted by a soulful song; lacking lyrics, lo lost, lest lament found.

I am taunted by a merciless melody, mixed - measured threefold - with melancholy and memories legend-long.

Salvation and sweet, shall be Silence's Sound.
1.3k · Feb 2021
Too Few.
Him Feb 2021
I compose these sentences anew, sometimes in timely thought, sometimes in utter urges; yet always they be too few; to express but a mere three words: "I love you."
There is no other feeling that's quite as dear, as to hear one follow up on these three words with your name. In spite of our poetic aims, those three words the human heart claims.
1.3k · Oct 2021
The Snail.
Him Oct 2021
The home you miss, is my burden; the longing of distance and miles is not there.

Concealed within living bone and spiral, no conquered land can I long winter, and longer yet retain.

Would you miss it - if it were always near? Those crude constructions composed of flora's corpses and Oran's nails; compose another, and... Still ye dismay:

"The house is similar, but the home is not the same."

A home requires a heart, but man has long since lost theirs; so crawling, I wonder:

"What difference is there?"
This piece presents a monologue, of a snail innately unable to appreciate Man's concept of "Home". The Snail professes an element of Man lost, a home's cause, thus no difference is to be had.
1.3k · Jan 2021
Him Jan 2021
I am thinking of all the words that I never got to say; all of the letters and apologies, only published within my brain.
1.2k · Jan 2021
A Husband's Wish.
Him Jan 2021
A gentle kiss for one longed missed. A white dove from above for dearest beloved. My lady has it been a thousand moons; by God's will, I'll see you soon.

Eyes of that of blue moon, what greater sight than bride to groom? In sickness and in health so shall this be. In poorness and in wealth stay by me.

From the moment this knot is tied, until the day this man has died; I'll be there to wipe your tears; I'll be there to fight your fears; I'll be there to keep you safe; I'll be there to hold you near.

Whether it be day light or eternal night, you should forever be the apple of my sight.
1.2k · Jan 2021
Reverie of Reality.
Him Jan 2021
I am trapped within this reverie of revived memories; of when you were by my side.

The warmth of dawn feels as though a cruel, albeit gentle lie. My Sun...set, tis that day, when you left me with why.


Why... couldn't I make you stay? Why does everything I grasp tightly... still slip away?
These thoughts of you from a cage, that keep all logic and reason, within gaze; though beyond embrace.
1.1k · Jan 2021
Our World; The One Unheard.
Him Jan 2021
The world is not perfect, nor is it kind; with each progressive step forward, we leave more behind.

The rich give a copper piece, while they take ten gold. Has your charity forgotten the old man and boy, who harvest your coal? What merit is there in giving, if one takes more?

It's interesting, that humans have made "humanity" a show; kindness, compassion, fun, how many do you know?

For a world that's global warming, the hottest summer days feel so... cold.

Perhaps it is a global warning, to let the others knows, that most of us have a house... but too few, a home.

This house is a prison, its cells are polished purple heart, behind which I am truly alone; I am the person who admires this "purple" heart, though I loathe my own.

I am a whisper, reaching far and wide, through this phone. To most my words are beautiful poems; to few they are more; something that their hearts can hold, and have some warmth amidst the cold.
What need be there for notes, when all the words that I sought to speak, I have spoke? Some of you might experience contemplation and inspiration, and those hurting, some hope.
1.1k · Jun 2021
Him Jun 2021
I spent the day with you, waiting for the Sun to set; that I might kiss you in the darkness it left behind.
1.1k · Feb 2021
Him Feb 2021
Parents bark, bite, and blame.

I raise my earphones' volume so high, that I don't hear my pain.
1.1k · Jan 2021
Black And Blue.
Him Jan 2021
I will love you, until we are black and blue; bruised by these pains and pleasures, that I offer you.
I assure you this, I am not a sadist. 😂
991 · Feb 2021
These Orchids Are Yours.
Him Feb 2021
These orchids are yours, and with them, all colours known to earthly sight.

They shall prove rigid, ever blocking Time's course, professing eternity their right.

Roses express my affections well; blooming amidst the warmth of Summer, fed to satisfaction by the dew of your lips . . . yet they shall wither.

Then dry dust shall be my affections' well; blooming Lycoris Radiata legions advancing amidst the warmth of Death's banner . . . Towards our love's ellipse . . .


These orchids are yours, and with them, the multi-folded papers from which their fibres and petals are equally composed. These are humble gifts, but were they to boast: "We orchids offer to thine love, an eternity; an assurance of perpetuity, by toast."
977 · Feb 2021
Dear... Who?
Him Feb 2021
Dear Diary, perhaps you might tell me: "What Do You See?"

Cause the mirrors offer a reflection, that just cannot be: An eighteen year old boy, who's both happy and healthy.

Dear Diary, Dear... Who? Perhaps you might credit the broken creature that penned you. The one that inflicted these tears and tears; these crude reflections... recreations of its own scars and pains.

Dear Diary, Dear... Who? This question is one, that you wonder too. Perhaps ironic, as the answer is known only by you; just call me, Dear Who.
Who am I?
940 · Jan 2021
Him Jan 2021
Time is fleeting, time is fair, and if it were a maiden; her beauty none dare compare. Her youthfulness in spring, and calm eloquence in winter, like a rain drop on sea as mighty as is gentle.
855 · Jan 2021
I Am.
Him Jan 2021
I am the boy who sits at the back of the class; I am the myth and legend, that you have never heard laugh.

I am the eloquent, who so seldom speaks "Good day." and "Goodbye."
I am the b r o k e n, though you will never see me; p a r t i a l or cry.

I am the Lie.

I am the Lie, well housed in the illusion of an ever-present smile.

I am the wary traveller, exhausted yet still encouraging others to walk the extra mile.

I am the dying and ill, who screams to others. "Keep surviving and living, hold fast to your will; life once truly lived, has both bad and good."

I am a human... for better or worse. I am a duality to all others; either a blessing or a curse.

I am a song sang, though others remember only a verse... I am a play, that has been exhaustively rehearsed.
I am tired... so very exhausted of it all; inside of this frail body, heart and mind wage a war. I am human, and only human after all.
855 · May 2021
Mon Amour.
Him May 2021
My heart professes perpetuity, and was so faithful to, yet my mortality minds no frame nor memory of you.

This epidermis sheds and skins from disuse; need my heart evidence, might my chill-cracked palms be your proof?

The contours of your constitution, all known by their names, are perhaps now amended by the passage of passing age and days.

The sirens of your voice's sound, awaken me from my dreams; the symphonies of my soul's supplications, now so strange and foreign seem.

My heart professed perpetuity, and is so faithful to, so should this skeleton and its dependents devoice - mon Amour; my heart remains with you.
850 · Jan 2021
Him Jan 2021
How fleeting is my lady's beauty? How fleeting is the pride of younger days? When we had laugh and cried with candied serenity all the same. How fleeting are those youthful days, now my lady and I are old and grey.
836 · Jun 2021
Him Jun 2021
There's a lone one, in alone.
   L  O  N  E
827 · Feb 2021
The Affair.
Him Feb 2021
I may be falling in love, or going crazy, though perhaps they're both the same.

I fell in love with the silence, a married man entertaining this affair; cause my heart does not belong to the silence, when you call my name.
For discordant sounds and songs, I do not care, though your voice is a soothing melody flowing into my ears.
750 · Jan 2021
Say? Nay.
Him Jan 2021
I could write a novel, with all these words I didn't say. And, I could hold a concert, with all these screaming voices in my brain.
I could do so much...
750 · May 2021
Him May 2021
I can't see my future, with my present sight, but mother says that I will be alright.

I have been skipping online classes as of late; assignments turned cold, piled up on my plate.

I am uncertain of what the future holds, certainly apprehensive of tomorrow.
Am I alone, in this regard?
746 · Jan 2021
Him Jan 2021
There is no need for noble graces, with you, I have none. Just one entreat, request and command: "Come."

'You' see me for what I truly am, behind this regalia of dignity and honour; hides a ****** man. Now come, and heed my command.
You know me, for what I am; and yet still, you accept this broken man.
734 · Feb 2021
Risky Venture
Him Feb 2021
Love is the investment, without a guaranteed return. So check the markets, and seek consultation; lest your capital gets burn.

And your love... unrequited and unheard.
728 · Dec 2020
Him Dec 2020
Sweet... so sweet at first; as if intending to overbear, and then in a moment's breath, the intensity having mellowed fades.

Next one's tongue does greet, a nuttiness that begs it to retreat; reviving dead memories of when you two first did meet.

Having now fallen from heights, be they ***** or steep; the taste of your tongue becomes bittersweet. Ending this final kiss, silently pledging to lose neither hope nor sleep; heartbreak leaves the taste of caramel upon your teeth.
How should one best wash this taste from their teeth? How should one erase the perpetual reminder... of love's defeat; that clings to the tongue and teeth, with the taste of caramel bittersweet?
724 · Jun 2021
Sheet's Sweet Sleep.
Him Jun 2021
My sheets dream of you, those dreams I do not dare. Polyester and cotton, impress upon themselves your figure; defined, blue and dear.

To long for a stranger, to be more than one's friend. Might you resist the urges, to cast pity upon them; for these fabrics were woven from naivete and virginal optimism.

My love is a burden, whose weight few have known, but for you... Might the Kg be measured and shown.

And may these sheets, no longer dream such dreams, as you call my bed - Your Home, with glee.
686 · Dec 2021
Him Dec 2021
I will wait, until Autumn allows your loneliness, to fall - leaves - amid an array of affection arising.
623 · Jan 2021
Love's Antidote.
Him Jan 2021
If love had ever had an antidote, then it would be all the words that we never spoke; buried by the linguistic silence of our throats.

Few are the poems that I have wrote, yet the pens might as well be Chinese, that I have broke. Our love was once an eagle's wings, custom made to sing hymns whilst we sinned; like mere children, so impassioned by any and everything - Now love is the yoke, both burdensome and binding.
I am thinking of all the words that I never got to say; all of the letters and apologies, only published within my brain.
618 · Feb 2021
All That I Can Do...
Him Feb 2021
Are you thinking of me, cause I sure am of you? Tomorrow the lockdown will be beginning, and heaven knows it's cruel.

I have already waited for a month, so what's two more weeks to go? However, there's one truth that every, lonely lover knows:

These clocks tick a little slower, and the nights are twice as cold; when you're waiting for the warmth of a lover, whom you wish that you could hold.

O, the nights are twice as cold, and the winds they sure do bite; when I am staring up at the Moon, oh but can't see your light.

All on my own - Now that's quite the fright. I am staring at my phone, waiting for a hello or a goodnight.
All on my own - Now that's quite the fright.

O, the nights are twice as cold, and the Gin loses its kick. I am staring at the ******* from across the room, now I'm falling to the floor; the gloom begins to set in, as I lay on boards; I can't hear the clock's taunting tocks nor ticks... anymore.


Are you thinking of me, cause I sure am of you? Here's another poem that I have written, yet another that I won't show you.

Cause the lockdown may be cruel, but at least I could survive.

IF I ever make you cry. IF I ever be a fool. Then Bae, there will be no surviving for me, knowing that I murdered you.

Now, I will just stay up tonight, and keep thinking of you. Now, I know that's it's weak, but it's all that I can do.
Can tears be a note? Or would they be a little, silly joke
603 · Feb 2021
Him Feb 2021
O my heart, broken and betrayed; beaten, battered, bruised beyond Beauty's bear.

Though my eyes haven't yet spilled a single tear, O my heart, with aches foretell of heavy rain; of regret and remorse religiously retained.

At first my breath had ceased... had paused. Then my heart and mind; love and logic had waged a war; leaving my severed spirit... to bear its dear cross - Both Forsaken And Lost.
This is my most broken piece; the one whom I hesitated to share. However, my heart encouraged its release, saying others might feel the same.
587 · Feb 2021
Him Feb 2021
I'm laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling. You're staying in my head, and I can't shake these feelings.

My every word and deed, confesses that you are my need; love has sown her seed, and from it roots my heart bleeds.

I'm laying in my bed, while you're laying in my head, and so this tragedy begins. Might someone please rid Shakespeare of his pen, and let this story come to its end?

The tempest winds are blowing strong, I am slowing falling down; I feel that I am suffocating underneath water, but I can't seem to drown.

My heart can't get any sleep, causes it speeds up its beat, when I tell you that I love you... but you don't repeat.

I am staring at the ceiling, imagining that you are staring back, and for now... I am content with that.
575 · Feb 2021
Sunshine Retained.
Him Feb 2021
I managed to find the beauty, buried beneath your pain; your little bit of sunshine, life had buried; though its possession you retained.
It was a good find, now we can both search for mine.
573 · Jan 2021
Another Glass of Wine.
Him Jan 2021
Another glass of wine, to silence the silence speaking within my mind.

Another laugh... Another whine, these ten thousand thoughts, and their sweet sorrows; I claim as mine.

Another glass of wine, for these wounds shall be slow to close with time. Numb me, by the virtue of the Vine; liberate my heart of the bitterness of Lime; baptise me, as yet another glass of wine; I claim as mine.
Another glass of wine, drank simply to pass the time.
528 · Feb 2021
Him Feb 2021
There's writing on the wall, and it all seems so clear. I'm living to give you my all, and you're dying to get away.

Your last text was long, though there was so much that you had left unsaid. You had asked me to be strong, and accept that you were my yesterday. Tell me! What is forgiveness' debt that I see it paid?

My body is keeping up this lie; my eyes don't want to cry. A part of me is missing from the inside, and that part had told me... "Goodbye."
519 · Jan 2021
Him Jan 2021
Love is gentle.
Love is true.
Love is temptation.
Can you refuse?
Yield to this temptation; and add love to your sins.
519 · Oct 2020
Melancholy of Innocence
Him Oct 2020
This is the melancholy of Innocence, so do sit and have a glass. Drink slowly, and savour the taste friends; for innocence shortly lasts. She is as a flower, most beautiful at bloom, but, we must not forget now; that flowers must wither too.

So what is the sadness... the melancholy of Innocence, if all things must pass away? Perhaps it is the longing then, that one's innocence did remain. Yes, the melancholy of Innocence; is that deepest longing, day after day. The longing for something, you know well that you can't regain.
Greetings, this is my first piece, so I hope that you may enjoy. The melancholy of Innocence, ironically, may bring you happiness and joy.
492 · Jan 2021
O, My Silent Singing Bird.
Him Jan 2021
O, my silent singing bird, how I worry for you this day; for without hymns or choruses, you have allowed the Sun to fade.

Lo, though I have your ear, your heart is anything... anywhere but near, but here; for you, my silent singing bird sings a song of silence; souless symphonies of sorrow your aid.

Were only your chirps of greeting and discourse of our hopeful meeting, I could hear; then I would think it a concert, and listen well to the performance that you have prepared.
To a friend in his time of weeping, to a love both gentle and fair; your tearfall leaves me wishing, that I could wipe them all away.
492 · Dec 2020
Beneath This Willow Tree.
Him Dec 2020
I met with him, again beneath that Willow tree, whose roots ensnared all the land that could be seen.

Though the most striking of imagery, to me, was the fact that December's snow-white sovereignty, was usurped by a vibrant, vital green; the legacy left behind, by the Willow's fallen leaves.

He sat around the table, his back against the lake; his face was as always, nonchalant and noble, as if though unmoved by our date.

I rushed towards him, worried that I was late; fully prepared to apologise and explain, as I would have, could he only wait.

But he, he confirmed my worries with a smile and said. "You would have been ten minutes late, hadn't ten seconds remained. Luckily I told you to meet, ten minutes ahead, so there's still an hour for our date... Friend."

"Friend?" I returned an innocent smile to him, saying. "So, is that the lie that we're telling... to ourselves and them?"

He sighed for bit, absent-mindedly giving the chess pieces a toss and flip.
"Father said... if one tells a lie long enough; it becomes the truth. So I have lied to myself for three months; that a friend is all that I am to you; and you to I."

Clicking my tongue I replied. "Mon amour, that's a difficult lie; and one that I tell myself as well... my own little sample of hell."

"A friend... your friend I will be; and tell myself this lie for an eternity. So long as I can see your smile, beneath this willow tree." I said within my heart, silently.
A friend... your friend I will be; and tell myself this lie for an eternity. So long as I can see your smile, beneath this willow tree.
482 · Feb 2021
Him Feb 2021
Your every pore, my tongue wishes to explore... to know.

Whilst my hands long to touch the nucleus of your soul.

Let my ears hear the harmonies of your unbroken moans.

I shall inhale the sap and nectar of Love's tree, greedily, as your falling flowers' pollen bury me; within a living tomb of ecstasy.

We will see, all of the animals and beasts, we lovers can be; when "Human" nature runs free.
I am thinking of them, ever now.
481 · Feb 2021
The Dark.
Him Feb 2021
I am not afraid of the dark; nor of the many creatures that hide beneath its veil.

I dread the light, both failing flicker and spirited spark; whose existence threatens with the realisation that you are not there...

That you are but a pleasant phantom, whose sight I entertain - Beneath the warm affections of Midnight's rain.

I am not afraid of the dark, though I dread the truth; a gospel that proclaims a life without you. And light just happens to be its evidence, so within Dark's nest, I hide you.
477 · Mar 2021
Him Mar 2021
The sky is a generous grey, beneath whose pending charity, sentinel palm trees stray. Whilst impetuous Atlantic gusts, act as a guide to the tourist of Saharan dust, from our heritage far away... yet unclaimed.

And so it shall remain, for domiciled within Barbados' Summer paradise; I would ask only for the rain; that it might wash these seared whip wounds of Sun's splendour... away.

The fruit trees are as my family's; their abundant branches intertwine and then once more, rewind to form a clan. Yet, their want of leaves says to all, of the prospect of Summer's well-fed famine... they had made no plans.

So, we would ask only for the rain; that it might wash away the browned chlorophyll of a cruel Summer's plague. Much like nightmares... to be preserved only within the introspective and reflective archives of Yesterday.

Upon bent knees, I humbly appeal to the Holder of Divinity - Nay! I pray, for but a half empty, half full cup of rain.
459 · Dec 2020
My All... to You.
Him Dec 2020
O how sweet the taste of cavalry, where Christ the Lamp was slain for me. His hands were nailed, His brow was bruised, His feet were bind, His blood was spew. Oh how great is my due, O Lord to You, that Your precious blood was spew, my all, my all I render to you.
The greatest gift for Christmas was long ago bequeathed; given by Jesus Christ, our Lord, that all might receive. So please, accept His charity; and from sin be free... and be on this Christmas day, truly merry.
441 · Jan 2021
Him Jan 2021
I pressed the knife's end against my veins, to see if it might sting the same; as when you call my name.

The blood hasn't spilled yet, yet I'm already drowning in the pain.

Words last forever once said; the past is beyond our reclaim.
426 · Jan 2021
Breath's Waste.
Him Jan 2021
Mon amour, in this room I am haunted by my cologne, that you stole and made your own; it lingers, like these feelings of you alone.

My hands ruffle the sheets; nails and fingers birth wrinkles where they meet. Though the memories of your locks between my fingers... to these I retreat; to these feelings, I fall asleep.

Pray return to my embrace, and end this eternal vigil with grace. Pray return to my arms, sound and safe; for each breath breathed without you here, is a waste.
Love is sacrifice; a truth embodied by Christ, in His death and life. Everytime that you are absent, mon amour, it is as though a lance pierces my side; our love is too painful to be a lie.
422 · Feb 2021
Him Feb 2021
The sun set, with scarlet potential, unrealised and unmet.

As I awaited your ephemeral silhouette; the promise to be kept.
Him Dec 2020
The greatest gift for Christmas was long ago bequeathed; given by Jesus Christ, our Lord, that all might receive. So please, accept His charity; and from sin be free... and be on this Christmas day, truly merry.
Will you be accepting this gift for Christmas, that Christ has wrapped in love; delivered to us all, by the purest white of doves?
421 · Feb 2021
Him Feb 2021
The black flower blooms;
Crimson's king, the moon turns red,
Seconds sum seasons.
Pray let me hear your thoughts.
413 · Feb 2021
The Bank.
Him Feb 2021
I took our love to the bank, deposited it into a safe. The economy of our love is stagnant and blank, much like the look on your face.

The maintenance fees are high, they come with stress and quarrel; no goodbyes after a call. I am love's employee, both sore and sigh, I might go bald, and gladly; if our love might survive.

I took our love to the bank, and left it there. My father was frank but no doubt sincere, when he warned me: "Do prepare for the rainy days."
407 · Jan 2021
Him Jan 2021
I close my eyes and hope to dream, I have slept myself wary of the darkness' company; now the monsters they come for me. Afraid, I CAN'T even scream! I am trapped in this nightmare, where none can hear me.

They emerge from beneath my bed, seemingly thoughtlessly; as they have no heads. Yet still I hear them crackling, "Please be our friend... sleep, and stay till the end."

I see them annoying the shadows, I hear them hissing sins. Yet again they entreat me, "Please be our friend."

Now, I ask screaming, "When will this end? Tell me what sins, have I committed?"

Then they replied, "Aren't you still breathing? That is your sin. You're still living, and we the dead... want us a friend. One will sleep, and stay to the end."
Will you our friend? Will you sleep and stay till the end?
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