My world is one where shapes collide — I act as a square that
seeks solace, but it’s forced to abide, through life's tight rings, it
strains to pass. Yearning for freedom, a lonely chance to amass.
A longing to think beyond the lines it knows, for a simple shift
—the means to a spirit, that it actually grows.  

As the nights call me softly, while days linger long, in the midst
of their familiar chaos, I must muster my song. While the burden
of now presses heavy and tight; slumber escapes me, lost away
in the night.

I wade through the shadows, each moment isn’t always a gem,
in this fragile ballet, still I cherish them – boxed in my heart; in
this life of a square.

Cherry-topped emotions – place those kisses on a curve
Back on the road; weaving through the flowing cursive
Nature of your words. You swear you don’t curse as often,
Yet I promise you, I couldn’t have heard enough as I’m
Shutting my ears each time you start to talk so rough –
Darling you talk too much.

Pin the blame on the heart; that mischievous *****,
But even more so on the tongue, that speaks in a rush
Racing to spill those hasty, biting out loud remarks
Yet I promise you, I couldn’t have heard enough as I’m
Shutting my ears each time you start to talk so rough –
Darling you talk too much.

Perhaps I entertain the fact, cos I love you too much.

Lost in feelings like a child who has lost their mother’s hand in a clothing store. What can I cling to as life begins to wear me down? I feel out of place in this room, surrounded by a sea of people who adorn themselves in ways that garner admiration from others. My neck is slick with sweat; my eyes heavy with tears, burdened by the smoke swirling in my chest like a traveller stuck in customs.

The ultimate destination is, of course, my head, where thinking of myself in a future tense is so heavy on my brain. My lips start to tense, speaking of the past with a few old friends – I’ve aged too well, that those grappling with the youthful insecurities I once faced believe we’re age mates.

Still what’s looking for a mate: a joint occupant; though my joints ache a bit too much. A soulmate in the wake of these days, but what good is finding one if you don’t really have a soul. So lost in myself.

Him: I’ll love you forever!

Her: That seems a bit cliché…

Him: Well… forever will never die, yet we all must face the end someday. However, if I can cradle my love in the embrace of a forever, and perhaps we cross paths in another life, I would relish the chance to fall in love all over again.

My dear Bambi lover, I notice a hint of fear in your eyes tonight —
fleeing from the glint of light that dances within my eyes. It was never
my aim to send you fleeing, my dear.

Even though my affection blooms most brightly beneath the warming
hues of sunrise- fret not, for we can find solace in each other’s arms,
cradled by the soothing melodies of our cherished memories for
another twilight

Polar opposites – one side happy, one side not so much.
One day I’m fine, while another I barely recognize myself.

Fitting through the days is as effortless as slipping my foot
into a shoe; yet on another day I find myself searching for
that shoe, or I might even choose to walk barefoot, craving
the raw sensation to remind me how to truly feel.

It isn’t the pain – it’s the mere contemplation of it that keeps
me tethered to reality, a hopeful lost dreamer adrift in a sea
of daydreams. My skin may grow thicker, but the heart’s soft
hurt grows a bit sweeter; even as my eyes perceive life’s
flavours as harsh and bitter.

Polar opposites – the spectrum of being happy, or trying
to be happy in the skin of your own being.