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.

Tranquillity and wealth; boundless treasures can feel almost
like a torment—a magnificent chandelier in the heavens
merely flickers like a cluster of torches.

Triumphs and setbacks; would the spotlight still shine on
those who remain oblivious to your struggles?

Count the years, last I had a girlfriend –
not the same count since I last kissed a girl
but I could name the bunch I kissed (not a lot)
no grand numbers to express a body count;
though I’VE met a lot of people, but still haven’t
been around. Cried a little more this year, then what
I plan to begin with every year – tasted a drop of lust,
swallowed every piece of a tear (cut my tongue)
acted worse than my young- ****** up (a lot)

Thought of suicide more times than the reasons I had to
**** myself- did a bit of exercise for about a month
not for my health; my stomach was sticking out.
Fed myself a taste of lips, lost my tongue in the sound
of their hiss, got to hold onto someone’s hips- still never
found the appeal of calling a girl your ***** (isn’t that
an ick)

Been called out by those whose ears could never hear
a ring; tried to delete my Google when I though the search
for love was over- now I laugh instead, while using Bing.

I’ve had my full of this year, don’t expect me to be hopeful
for the next, I’ll just take it all as it is. Even if I don’t have all
that it takes, I hope I never lose what it takes to give…
my heart.

A, the solitary sentinel of the word alone –
A life that offers no change, even as I plead for a loan
A fractured rib from a heart weighed down, tell me what
bone can one pick against someone with a broken bone?

A day spent in the shadow of greener pastures, yet the rain
forgot to grace the grass a fugitive in the realm of love,
A criminal to the crime of love, steal a heart- still as one
adhering to the broken law.

A soul ensnared by the oppressive weight of their destitution – a
tempest of debts swirling in a perfect storm; lost in a cyclone
A, stands as the inaugural letter, forever the first to embrace
the chill of being alone.

Floating dreams upon this barren mattress –
Attempting to revive their hues, painting a vivid live caption
Sinking into the glow of a smile; I hope my faith will catch me
The drum roars of a heartbeat, anxious- still my soul is dancing
Two skins caught in themselves- kissing in a moment’s magic
Allow me to wish upon a star my love, that this sensation is everlasting.

Time: with its relentless grasp tightening around me, like the
unyielding force of gravity — anchors me in place. I aspire to
embrace aging with grace. I sense the encroachment of greys;
those emerging silver strands blend into the horizon of new days.

Isn’t life so strange; contradiction: we know of it like a friend, even
while it can turn adversarial until the end. Shifting seamlessly
between ally and adversary, these moments of joy and sorrow;
exalting in its beauty even as it envelops us in its enigmatic embrace?

So profound in depth and meaning, a symphony of paradoxes
harmonizing into the melody of our journey. I only aspire to embrace
aging with grace, oh what a shame — we move forward, embracing
the uncertainty with grace, as time continues its ceaseless march.
A steadfast friend from the break of day, an adversary until the sun
sets.

This love is the universe reflected in your tears – universal smiles
we’d savour beneath the sheets; you offered a fragment of your
soul, while I surrendered a piece of me. Even in your absence,
you haunt me in my quiet dreams – how do I even try to sleep,
without you lying next to me?

A belief in the silent secrets carried in your breath, lying to me;
an elephant in the room; so hard to forget all the space it takes
thinking about you. My gaze is drawn to you – I am merely a
pencil sketching on your body’s canvas. Filling my mind with
oceans, drowning me in your skin- departing too quickly, I start
to feel so blue.

I loathe to confess just how deeply I worship you. Such a false
goddess; still I find myself resting down these offerings of my
heart, to lift you highly.

Falling in love; well at least falling for the person- the narrative
of our love, a romance narrated from a distance — seen in third
person. You’re the third person I find myself whispering, “I love
you,” sharing so much about myself, sharing so much that it
aches to be so personal.

Sometimes my words disappear under your breath; I’m fading
away, and not feeling as myself; no longer existing as a person-
impersonal.

I catch glimpses of uncertainty in your eyes, and I sense that my
many personalities can be overwhelming- please don’t take it so
personal. You sometimes feel diminished in their presence, as if
you’re non-personal

Yet, as the day draws to a close, my greatest desire remains:
to know you deeply and to call you, my person.

You cherish me merely as a coin — always anticipating change,
you seek me out only when it’s time for heads, chasing after tail.
I’ve been tossed about by you countless times; my feet now bear
the weight of my head. Say you love to call me, “mine,” yet
you handle me like a mere dime tucked away in your pocket –
only reaching for me when your hands are empty of anything
else to own- and pass me around like a debt you owe.

Beloved, your touch is far chillier than all the jealousy that
exists in this world. I'm just a cold coin to you.

Swimming in pink, oh the blush of tears — as you tear me away
from my original nesting; a petal ripped away from their mother
flower. Watch closely as I fall to the ground, unloved- as you
softly murmur your melody of, “he loves me, he loves me not”

Sweetheart, it’s painfully clear that your heart holds no
affection for me whatsoever. You love to let me down.

Tomorrow comes too soon — I am the taste of noon,
a mirror reflecting another's brilliance; I am just a moon.

In
A world that seeks to mould me into a mere tool, yet my
truest desire is to be a spoon, nourishing those who crave
love; those ensnared in a wicked life of their own doom
Still, all I aspire to achieve feels so insufficient,

For
Tomorrow comes too soon — I am the inquisitive shadow
lingering in a room. I've been transformed into a broom,
sweeping away many of my ideas— for all the countless
moments they appear in their eyes as something never close
to good

As
All the creativity I possess comes with the weight of having
so much to prove; I've stumbled many times, leaving me to
question the true fit of my shoes. Life wears me down by
day’s end, and the cycle begins anew.

Always
Tomorrow comes too soon.

A vast cosmos swirls within my cup its hue reminiscent of
rich earth – this is how I savour the celestial dance of stars that
illuminate my dawn. The birds are chirping; their incessant
calls grating to someone still caught in the clutches of sleep,
an hour past their awakening.

I crave the warm embrace of those first sips, the aroma of
a universe enveloping my senses – those dulled nerve endings
yearning for that electric jolt to awaken my body, sounds ringing
sharp like a sudden jolt to the ear, quickly grounding me in
the present. My eyes, keen as a blade, slice through the haze of
distraction, honing in on clarity.

As I speak, relishing that fleeting moment of joy, the kettle
whistles its urgent call – a signal for the morning coffee I so
desperately seek.

Feelings drained: ensnared in the relentless grasp of time’s
drain — spiralling just before the inevitable plunge; a descent
into nothingness. The narrative unfolds; a black hole nestled
in my chest; I am its plug- feeding it every toxic craving to fill the
void. The chill seeps in as I lie sprawled on the floor, gazing up
at the distant heavens.

I should shield my eyes with memories of the Word, yet I
find myself lost in the endless scroll of my phone — I ought
to whisper words of encouragement on the days when coping
feels impossible, but my lungs are heavy with smoke.

I need someone to explain the enigma of love, yet all I crave
is a taste of every girl that crosses my path. In the mirror, I see
only a ****, masked with a genuine smile draped over a hollow
shell, devoid of thought; it simply seeks gratification, even if
too much indulgence leads to regret.

I’m addicted to pleasure; yet each fleeting moment leaves
me feeling the least pleased.

There are two kinds of creatures in this life;

the most attractive creature, is a man mindful of your feelings:
considerate of your emotions, making you feel truly valued,
and respected— who listens attentively to your thoughts,
and concerns but also responds with genuine care, and
understanding.

And the dumbest creature, is a man who instead thinks
with his second brain: not much thought needed there.

Loll in a realm of no regards, shuffle the game of life like
a deck of cards — playing into the quest to uncover who
you really are. Each life begins with a question:
“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Will I be a nurturing mother? A father who can provide
for their all,” each life begins with a question – especially now,
as we ponder this curious phenomenon called life; is it still
worth it, at all. Cloaked in whispers of our cherished dreams,
the most fragile among us are those who beam brightly, even
with kinked teeth.

The gentle craving for a richer life is as tender as the insides
of our teeth — revealing everything we risk on the overflowing
platter of those we disdain; initially, it was a pleasure to meet.
Yet, I was lost in my role in this world at first – bestowed a name
at birth, still grappling with its significance in a titled world –
entitled!

Don’t we pretend that’s what we deserve even from man’s great
fall, who inherited their sin galore. I question it all. Don’t we
all act as if we deserve it all, even after humanity’s great fall,
which bestowed us a legacy of sin?

                                I question it all.

As I stand — in the stillness of the night, buried in
contemplation, a tombstone looms above my head piercing
into an idea, with these horns; to charge directly at vivid
imagination. Shrouded in the night’s dead darkness; the
only colours that dance around are the deep, dark hues
that cling to my black horns – tainted.

Formless creatures haunting the silhouettes of all dreams
their fragmented forms concealing hidden depths and
buried truths — echoes of old traumas from the days of
youth, a troubled youth, long neglected – abused.

The more these horns are trimmed, the longer they seem
to stretch – spiralling directly into my vision; all I
perceive is darkness.

Roused from my dreams, I find myself distant from the
images that once danced in my mind. A soft murmur of
dreams beckons, stirring weary eyes with the promise of
a new day’s embrace.  

A laugh escapes, brushed away, trapped within a
fabricated grin— shadows of tears that deepen the skin
already weary from time. Almost revelling in the illusion
that life is a triumphant race; pursuing all the things
I once fled from.  

Standing too close to the fire, of people’s words that
scorn your soul- I remain unafraid of their searing impact;
I have welcomed them all, wrapping myself in the comfort
of understanding that they hold no power over my identity
at all.

Manicure the landscapes of my gaze – a far-off forest whispers
sweet nothings before a lover fades into memory – growing
weary; the taste turns bitter, like rising *****. Lingering sweetness;
the flavour of honey clings to my lips, a hive buzzing with our
fantasies woven in dreams – yet this imagination comes tethered
to a swarm of bees.

A television muse; she’s a show looping in my thoughts,
preying on my moments, I’m praying pretending to be
faithful, my hands are little more faithful than I was to you,
never keeping you in focus.

We must have believed we were creases, yearning to love
beyond the inevitable wrinkles – beautiful, flawed beings;
yet even a beast knows it must seek another to thrive.

How humans are so vile.

A concealed chaos danced in our gazes – our skins quivered,
muscles coiling tight, startled by the electric brush of our hands.
I drew the essence of my longing into your bare form, enveloped
in a veil of creamy sweetness and intoxicating fragrance;
a moment long awaited.

My lips, glistening with the fantasy of your space, a yearn to
explore those four walls that beckon me, to caress, to hold,
to savour the taste of you against my own skin. You are my
deepest desire, my ultimate love, the very pulse of my
existence; let us unite tonight to ignite a new beginning –
a new existence.

Landed on my own footsteps, I must I've been waking
in circles – with my gaze lowered. I crafted another poem,
weaving it with the chords of a guitar hidden beneath
my tongue, and shared a golden joke for the silver lining
of my soul.

My eyes, like polished bronze, seek a third reason to embrace
love, — fully aware of how swiftly I would chase after it, if
it dared to stay just out of reach. Oh, his path remains an
endless circle.

Emotions are like dew — I steal a moment to admire your skin,
illuminated by the golden sun; it resonates and harmonizes
with the brilliance of your love. I yearn to capture the
vibrant shades of your lips, each one a memory of our
unforgettable kisses.

Beneath this radiant light — so serene, a distant calm; I find
myself resolute in simply observing, unwilling to disrupt
the sight of your bare skin, glistening in the golden glow
of the words that shaped you so beautifully before you came
into being. Let us cherish these instances; like a dawn — these
eyes that met out of politeness, while I courted you with a
tapestry of words, lost in their quest for allure.

Yet, you will always enchant my finer sensibilities; those few
tangles in your hair, in the shadow of your presence, left
me quaking, struggling to choose which smile I wish to don.
Adrift in the fleeting moments between pauses, my
prelude thoughts grow envious of the sequels that
revolve around you.

Lips that feel so much colder when they part from yours —
so I implore you, draw nearer to ignite my warmth, as
it is a delight to simply gaze upon you.

What a pity for the burn of your love — a toothless fire;
we started so strong, but now we struggle to ignite,

I suspected as much — for a boneless smile; just
pretending to be so kind for all those squandering
moments by following their own misguided advice.

The hollowness of your eyes leaves a bitter aftertaste,
on my mind — such a hopeless fire. So helpless to stoke
the flame; yet, one that I can’t deny still resonates with
your name, so we title it simply, as us just being
friends.

Dreaming in colour; but I can't help thinking
in black and white — the anxieties that weigh heavily
on my plate, it's no wonder I occasionally savour
their bitter taste. Why should I rely solely on fate,
when it starts to feel a bit devoid of faith?

And some might argue I let them down, but
what if that low point was my decision to elevate
others — would you still have faith in me, or is
it simply your own fate that keeps me anchored
in this low place?

Pause for a heartbeat; envision the world through the
serene gaze of God — tell what would you see? A sea
of ordinary souls, humbly on their knees, even as the
world tries to drown them in a depth of sin.

How beautiful it would be to witness such a thing…
but you chose to drown in your sins, instead of
embracing all of His love that washes you clean.

Suffocating beneath a tidal wave of feelings —
struggling to stay afloat, gasping for breath.

My lungs are heavy filled with so much water;
I may swallow my pride — but I can't hold
these tears anymore in my chest.

Sighing memories washing over me in the flow of a deep
blue sea, — my skin glimmers with the love of the sun, but its
affection is too overwhelming; my tears cascade, transforming every
ground beneath my feet, into an ocean the moment I step outside.

Please don’t crash into me as if I were an unguarded entrance –
the outside world hammered at the door of my heart, demanding to
be let in by any open conversation — but it takes more time for me
to open up.

Those open scars, raw and untended, are like emotional
whirlpools, dragging me down into the abyss of pain and sorrow.

Whispers dance in the breeze; let your voice flow freely —
the breath within you holds a universe of untold stories.
A pure release, embracing the thrill that slips away with each
sigh—aren’t we all, at times, yearning for a way out? I place
accolades in my gaze, celebrating my reflection in every shard
of glass; yet how disingenuous it feels to claim that I take
greater pride in who I am today than who I was yesterday.

Still, I am the blossom along the way, nourished by the remnants
of winter’s chill, I’m running cold, chasing after the scent of
vulnerability under this runny nose — pursuing the essence
of fragility beneath this teary facade.

I caught my eye in a piece of mud; and I do hope you can never
see into my ***** mind—that tainted look could betray a criminal
in disguise; but are you still a criminal if you unknowingly stole
someone’s heart. Once you know the kind of dirt on you, you get
so anxious of any spot, even as you try you clean your act up.

Don’t act up; claiming not to sometimes feel a bit ashamed
of yourself — cosying up with your doubts. The truest smile will
shine much brighter in the dark; so I shut my eyes when it feels
right to let my ugly smile out.

Programmed ideas, words begin to echo AI — quiet intelligent;
in a realm where outsmarting will take you out; once you
outshine those above you; you define the term of being so Anti.

Anti the world, where courage is deemed too bold — keep those
ideas to yourself, shave off the top – be bald. Even as you try to
say things so daring, that if feels like a bold choice; speaking your
mind won't be so clear without an influential voice.

Your existence seems tangled and wild; so out of order —I question
if a miracle isn’t served, would I question an angel for missing
the order. And if to not adhere to good people's orders, this very
breathing would feel like a crime — every moment caught up in
life would just be a show of Law and order.

But I doubt you’d excuse my aura for being so out of order –
we often craft justifications to the world’s chaos, as a service
to uphold a semblance of some order.

The air crackled; pre-*** tenses – with unspoken tension between
their eyes;  “please tell me you didn’t.” —a silent pause, “well, I’d
rather not,” he replied, a hint of passive aggression lurking
beneath his own shy’s.

“Can we talk about it either way,” —a silent pause, “absolutely not!
There’s nothing left to say; it’s all over, just like I am,” – he struggles
to find the right words to send her away.

“I refuse to give up, because giving up means allowing you to drown
in your own doubts– hey, it happens; but it won’t change how I feel.
Love is friction, but let’s not compare its love life to fiction. All films
are written, but our lives are unscripted” –

"Let's just promise ourselves to talk about these things"

In these vacant palms — cradled by the essence of my aspirations;
I clung to you with every enduring emotion, trembling and slick
with the weight of nostalgia, far beyond what could be deemed
ordinary, or wise in grasping at faded recollections.

My throat feels parched; I gulped down a swarm of love bugs,
hoping to replenish the affection I’ve lost — lost lovers. My
fingers bear the scars of nervous habits, raw and gnawed down
to the quick; the restless heart fears that the sharpness of love
might not pierce me as it once did.

Would you come as you are, within your soul's dwelling
Muddle of fears, intertwining like roots seeking supply
From hesitant soil – your insecurities bloom like fragile
Petals quietly quivering under the weight of your doubt.

The birds of prey swoop down, feasting on seeds of fear
Growing wild in the shadows, where silence can howl –
Unknowingly scattering, nurturing a garden of unease
Within your heart and mind, their talons gripping tight,
Refusing release

The host: guardian of self, peers warily at their unwelcome
Visitor; an uninvited guest that saunters through corridors
Of your thoughts; no regard for boundaries set by respect,
Leaving behind a trail of dusty footprints, remnants of a
World so careless and indifferent.

Why, oh why, do you tend so diligently to this nest of fear
Within you, allowing it to grow; to flourish, casting shadows
Over the once vibrant garden of your spirit- oh bird feeder?

Feeling a taste of bliss, a heart fluttered
With anticipation in that fleeting moment
Just before our lips met in a tender kiss.

In muted shades of grey, a smile that had
Once lit up your face seemed to fade away,
Almost as though the vibrant taste of you
Wouldn’t taste the same- we’re never the same

As we met, searching for the worth of love –
This love of ours, a love that came with change.

We were laughing miles away from the corner
Of real love, but it was long distance relationship
For you and I; I can only love you from a corner.

Nurturing this futile flame – dreams still linger on my fingertips as  
The glowing embers of thoughts I cling to. Dawn has splashed my
Vision with a fierce brilliance, a splendour now vanished;
Pursuing the fragments of a miracle that among those dear to
Me, I seem to be absent.

All the choices I’ve made; pride eludes me – pursuing paths
Not meant for my feet, lost in the throng All those I wished to
Impress, striving to achieve things that never filled me with pride  
Hearing their disappointment echo in my ears – it stung less than
It should have, for I had long been let down by those I admired.

Yet, I find myself never doing enough; despite all I’ve done to  
Still feel inadequate – I’m beginning to embrace myself more now,
No longer striving to please the multitude of family, friends, and
The few I can confess my love for. I’m discovering the art of
Self-love now.

Stepping lightly on your heart;
creating wounds and those
well-known scars –

Hold your tongue to keep from
saying too much.

Dig your hands to bury your grip away
from the time you could never own –

Erase the traces on your skin,
-those artificial fragments of a smile

They won’t notice your tears, as they never
wondered about the authenticity of your grin.

cracks of silence –
open letter to pain,
closed doors to love
kisses of violence –
tasting it all again

cherubs from above –
devils on my shoulders;
smiles before expected losses
pretend game of true love –
these horns are placeholders
suicidal thoughts in my head
play dead inside – possums.

The question, “Do I really miss you?”
feels like a weighty confession, but it often shows
I long for the days when I could call you my girl –
a title I never thought much of it before

The question, “Do I truly miss you?”
feels like a daunting truth, but it often shows
Missing someone is always a struggle –
but the emptiness of not having that someone
to miss, hurts a little more.

“Do I really miss you?” Absolutely, and I despise
that sensation; I wish to stop missing you altogether –

I don’t want to miss you anymore.

Falling in love – like a leaf caught in a whimsical breeze,
Falling short on my words, falling away from myself,
Falling apart into pieces, to find a place in your heart…

I always try to match the taste of your tongue, each time
We ignite a spark beneath the glow of hopeful affection –
We’re adrift, far from the depths of true love; yet we declare
  It with every beat of our hungry hearts.

The heart can be cruel – yet yours is a tale I’ve been unravelling,
Woven with verses and hidden sonnets. You might have glimpsed
My own, despite its rough edges, or the rhythm it desperately
Tries to convey.

How wonderful it was to share the illusion of love.

I rummaged through my wallet, checking if my card
was still nestled safely inside. “Yep, it’s here,” I muttered,
counting the cash I had on hand, just in case the card
decided to let me down.

Ah, our first date; my nerves were a whirlwind,
as I had never really ventured out with girls before.
A milestone in so many ways—my first date with a girl,
the inaugural use of my own credit card, and the first
time my hard-earned money spent on someone other
than myself or my parents.

And if I play my cards right, it might just
lead to our first kiss.

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.