Remnants of ash linger –
a pair of cigarettes from our history;
memories tucked away in an ashtray –

“What a hell of a life,”
breathed in right after quarrels, and less
often after moments of passion.

Still hooked on one another.

“Goodbye,”
is a lengthier term than the simple “Hie,”
Yet the act of saying goodbye feels short-lived –
at least that’s my wish each time I must part
ways with you.
For in that brief moment of saying goodbye,
I always hold onto the hope that we’ll soon
exchange a cheerful “Hie” once more.

I can’t bear the thought of you leaving, because
I can already picture how this tale unfolds.
You’ll be off touring the world –
I’ll be the devoted fan, chasing you from one
destination to the very next.

Waiting in all of your memories, but you won’t
notice me at any of the bus stops along the way.
It seems we both have to find a way to let go.

Facebook has taken a break –
Now the darker side of me begins to emerge
As I struggle to remember birthdays without a nudge.

I can’t throw shade at an ex on X anymore,
As I’m deprived of the mindless scrolling, that feeds
A sickening eye on open to doubt Instagram feeds.

The relentless ticking of time feels slower
Without TikTok, and now I’m left to view my own
Insecurities without the distraction of YouTube.

We are merely shards of glass nestled in the branches—
delicate leaves that, when they tumble to the earth,
shatter our very essence.

In my gaze, you appear so fragmented, like a
reflection staring back at another reflection—
between the two, who is truly more lost in the haze?

The wake in your eyes still tells me that you’re tired –
trapped in the grip of haunting dreams even as the day
breaks with its hopeful light. There’s a sense of lifelessness
in you, as the slow decay in your eyes dims your vision…

In the midst of learning to love yourself, what value does
wealth hold when it only feeds the greed that festers within?
Your skin feels icy, like the jagged edges of rusted nails
brushing against mine…

If you can still muster a smile, let it be for yourself,
even if it stings. This smile is yours alone, born from deep
within. Maybe not today, but one day, you will find your
way back to feeling whole- A way back to me.

Peanut butter sheets; she’s trying to jam
Me up, sometimes when we’re making love –
But hey, we had a good laugh –

Our feelings;

Were never really bred so well from the start –
But hey, these days she loves a slice of my love.

Every time I spread her open, whenever she butters me up –
But hey, she’s my favourite flower, and my Buttercup.

I’d pray my skins off just cover my family’s
Back – yet as I pen these thoughts, my mind drifts
To the shadows of my own depression…

Is it the root of my anguish, or perhaps the spark
That ignites my pen into a fierce weapon?

I find myself asking how highly people must think
Of me, and that’s a thought that always brings me so low.
Acting so ahead of myself but not knowing where
I should go – the ideal version of myself I envisioned
At four years old, had me happily married by twenty-four.

Yet, I struggle to see my own worth in the eyes of any woman.
I constantly search for hidden reasons why relationships
Falter, and it seems that’s why they often do.… still,
I’d trade my skins to shield those I cherish, even if it
Were only for a fleeting moment.

Is this merely a misguided sense of humility,
Or is it a deeper issue of not being able to love myself?
I feel uncomfortable in my own skins