nostalgia
as soft sun filters through palm leaves
and the clouds purple, the skies painted pastel pinks
surfboards stand seven feet tall
the salt water glowing, sparkling
a dark watercolor blue hue
i am reminded of the spring and summertime
of happier days
as I drive by the sea that glints waves to me

Do I care what you think of me?

Do you think I care if you consider me fat, stupid or ugly?

Your opinion doesn't matter to me. It never will.

Or else I won't let you see that it does.

With every hurtful comment, I brake a little more.

I stop feeling.
Stop believing that there can be a better tomorrow.
So every morning I plaster that smile on my face and walk out that door.

I don't let you see how much you hurt me.

Because that would be letting you win.
Because that would be letting you know how much I care about you.
That my love for you is killing me from the inside.
Destroying me more effectively than your words ever could.

So instead I smile and tell the world that I'm fine.
Let them believe that I am made of steel and nothing they say could ever hurt me.

But it does.

And as I cry behind closed doors I feel the knives in my back drive in deeper and the pain in my chest expands.

I know that I can't live like this forever.

Yet the sight of you is enough to change my mind.

"Why do you write?"
                                                                             "Poetry? That's for losers." "Why do you
waste your time writing?"

                                                 Why do I write?
To capture the way the sun reflects off the water. To capture the way ashes glide through the wind. For even a burnt shell of a city can become glittering and soaring with the right words.


Because it is the only thing that stops me from breaking down. It is a way to let my feelings go. Because there is a burning fire inside me. Guiding me to find the right words.

                                                  "Why do you write?"
                                         "So I can live"

When did it begin?
Being at each other’s throats
Like a forest fire
Destroying ourselves slowly
Yet the end nowhere in sight

The impatient soul awaits.
As crowds push towards the train.
He rushes to pass, can’t be late.
He looked at others, the insane.

He squeezed against and did shove.
They looked at him, silent grunts.
His angry mood, bared no love.
He was used to his way and wants.

One more push and catapults.
Into the air and did not fall.
He laughs at them, at their faults.
As he flies pass human walls.

Surprised, he got no attention.
He roared at them, till the last door.
His super power, that strengthened.
No longer waiting, he could soar.

Everyone looked to the left.
Train now expected delays.
Some tears were dropped as they wept.
A red end to someone’s day.

He flew back in that direction.
A sudden feeling, temptation.
There caught in the intersection.
His body, the impatient.