Shattered shields; these many lowered defences;
Over the plains of a threshold over my doom
In person I’m broken down, in spirit I am laughing,
Speaking, singing; losing most of the space in time,
And the pieces of my body and mind; tasting the
Spectacular taste of defeat, in a sepulchre of a void

To my past, I am a ghost haunting it in memories –
Screaming at my younger self; but no sound is heard
Holding onto old flames of love; there lies my handful
Eating at my skin, ripping and tearing, until ash is my hold

I was born from mud, in this world made of dust –
The tears of heaven wet my dry skin into being;
The heat of the sun gave the warmth of love, and lust
Here, under this moss I placed my thumb to crush my flower
I was born a love poem with no real idea on how to love,
So, I sit quietly and wait, waiting for another loss in love
To have been in love, to find love again, is to understand
Your heart’s love; maybe there’s too much love in it
To fully understand it all at once; all too strong to hold!

Some people seem more interested in looking
for someone’s attention – rather than finding
Genuine love.

As they aren't truly searching for a person to
be their person; but just a person to satisfy their
Own hungers.

The nemesis, genesis – as I’m naming the voices that echo
within me, the moment I drew my first breath. They love
to play presentence, they speak tainted truths in the limits
of my psyche; giving me their word before my sentencing.

They believe in foretelling my fate in my mind’s prison –
casting judgment with every utterance; can I compete
with these thoughts, will I finish their sentences?

Often, I find myself so imprisoned in my own mind –
yet the irony lies in the fact that the door stands open,
as we permit our thoughts to dominate with their own
rule, and goals of leaving us so, so broken.

My mind is a place I roam around with caution!

Tangled thoughts – I love
your beautiful strands of hair,
And not having them tangled in
my fingers, leaves me so stranded.

I can’t help these tangled thoughts;
thinking about your curls.

Summarised tone of speech – let me imagine
the heat of your touch like a fine cigarette;
Your picture in my mind is such a drag.

Open ears to your deceptive voice, callous lines
of ******* in your words; so pure in white lies.
To my tough skin, your deceptive voice will
touch me – not in softness, but piercing into my
Conscience; knowing that even the prettiest looking
flowers aren’t the bunch of friends to hangout with.

Liars have the sweetest smiles, the sourest kisses
after the impression of their love wears off –
Like chewing gum, sweet at the start, until that
taste of nothing chews you up.

From the liar's mouth is the war with themselves,
battling with which lie they’ll use this day.
Telling you that they care so much for you -
liars are the sweetest.

The hardships of a man are his silent battles –
“you ought to open up more,” which opens
his worth to being diminished.

We only cry when the world is asleep, painting
smiles on our faces to render our outer walls
somewhat pleasing to your gaze.  

We fight private wars, striving to shield those
we love from the fallout – yet the scars we bear
are somehow unsightly in your view.

We’ll conform to your contradictions, offering
our utmost to project an image of strength for
the women, while our brothers are the only ones  
who truly understand our weaknesses.  

The hardships of a man are his silent battles –
and it is only his fellow men who can truly
witness their tears.

I pressed my best tears against the door; it must have been me
slowly opening up to you — you probably took me as your pet,
waiting for the pat of comfort from your hand. I felt the glow of
your heart, resting my head on your chest, that felt like sunlight
cushions.

You asked me so softly, "what's so heavy on your mind, love,"
like a cat seduced by curiosity. Even as I tried to pretend that
everything was okay, it seemed wishful thinking inside of
Aladdin's cave — I caved, telling you, "I can't feel this very
familiar pit in my heart."

Like a fire lit in the dark, between us there's always been this
attractive spark— a man overthinks himself, when it comes to
admitting that he's fallen in love. The words don't slip out so
easily off the tongue; but they wrestle their way around the
closed mouth.

But I've always had my suspicions that you secretly knew;
reading the words in my eyes. And when you replied it back
to me with a smile; I laugh about it now, picturing how silly
we looked, when we both smiled stupid smiles.