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.

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

The sky's cheeks touched by a dream –  
Blushing softly and bashfully, in shades
Of pink.

As our love ascends –
You are my heavens; embraced,
Radiating in soft shades of pink.

Calm as the night, carefree as the day;
A melody composed by the gentle stream
Of tears by the riverbank.

Pause by the water, soothing the warmth
Of your cheeks – your presence feels like
A deep yearning, dancing with the rhythm
Of your steps.

Unconventional actions; striving to align with your essence –
Losing fragments of myself; yet each advance pulls me back,
A reminder that it may never be sufficient – I don’t wish to
Approach you too forcefully, but I also yearn to offer more
Then you anticipate as we entwine in this chance act of passion.

You unveiled me with your gaze, your breath a tantalizing
First caress – your lips tease as they graze my skin, your sharpened
Teeth leaving a mark; our scents will linger on these vacant sheets…
Your hair will be tousled, even as you attempt to secure it – your
Body will radiate warmth, and I’ll sweep away the remnants
As if dusting off forgotten corners.

Yet your touch is gentler than the rush of air filling my lungs
As we kiss – you’ll sway your hips, beckoning me closer; that
Image is impossible to dismiss. I’ll immerse myself in the sweat
That pours from your skin – embarking on this journey to
Uncover every tender petal of that vibrant bloom calling out to
Me so fervently, urging me to give everything I have.

Would you teach me how to love a little –
even for the little bit of the time we actually have,
right before you have to let me go…

Even if we end all things being mean to each other
could we share one final kiss, as if the spark of
our love still flickers; to know what love means –

Grant me a love that can lift these tears; pulling the
daggers out from my heart, just to etch your
memory on my skin – even when we’re no longer
connected, these tight knots in my chest suffocate me!

It's a real struggle for me
To be near you, and truly be myself –
Sometimes I feel like I'm either breaking free
from my shell or retreating back into myself

Yet, one thing is clear:
I'm like a timid pet turtle, gradually falling
in love with you – not knowing what to do with itself.

Government officials weave their words into riddles –
All your secret crushes, gaze at you, with laid bare feelings
Forever searches endlessly, all around for its dreamers.

“Going out to multiple,”
Aspires to make a lasting mark on all of its creatures
Beloved skins still ache for the warmth of bygone touches –
All the diamonds within you, long to be called precious.

A thankless toil, is inscribed by the silent prayers of regret;
As faith tenderly draws to those who embrace fresh beliefs –
The roots of our lineage all stand as reluctant witnesses.

While debt is the secret lover,
You so desperately try to conceal from both family and friends
Poverty, the only hidden vice, lurks quietly beneath all of
our best efforts

Suicide is a simple fate for those who have sadly lost all hope
Indulgers in life's fleeting pleasures- their souls have unfortunately
surrendered as well.

Enemies seem more trustworthy, their malice clear; unmistakable
Those we hold dear can betray us, their misdeeds cloaked in the
guise of familiarity.

The essence of our character is scrutinized by the judges' gaze—  
As the loudmouths clash with the silent observers  
Time wields a battalion of uncertainties when it’s scarce,  
And though words can weave exquisite poetry, we often  
Rush to voice our thoughts without a moment’s pause.

                                             Pause- and read that all again!

The void in your gaze will no longer
linger in your mind – we are merely silhouettes
in the daylight and the shadows of night; all our
skins woven from the fabric of midnight, and
each a unique hue of time.

It seems as though we are a mistake in history –
– the true mystery lies in deciphering its significance.

Yet, if I could unravel all your thoughts, would I still
find myself lacking? It feels as if we wake up late, only
to confront our troubles early on.

Pregnant ideas; we were all destined to create, yet –
we also give life to countless fears, concealing our tears
under the mat of our dreams.

You must have swallowed the key, striving to avoid
glancing back, but our present is merely a reflection of
our history.

And where we stand now marks the beginning of a
brighter future we yearn to seize.

What’s the tempo of your body,
Trying to catch it’s beat;
My heart is beating- skipping,
At least on this track;
I’m racing against myself,
At least while I’m on this path,

Searching for a much deeper way
To love you back
Yet, reminiscent of my past,
These fresh emotions
Pull me back to that which
I never really had –

Even if it seems our love could
Only last a fleeting moment,
My dear, I offer you my
Heartfelt thanks.

Cupid’s aim was off, he lost one of his arrows
in the wrong heart he shot; I'd had my fair share –
of these scars painted on my skin; all the best
intentions being lost, while adding value to someone
just to add up the cost of their love…

Cupid’s aim was off, he forgot to wear his glasses
while on the job; giving me extra weight thinking
about my past – all the pain left behind, we all need to
move forward, but I still want to kick Cupid right in
the ****!

Trying to find the pieces of tomorrow,
So we can build our future together-
Still if we landed on the footsteps
Of yesterday; I hope we don’t
Retrace most of them today.

And if you found yourself,
Would you still get lost with me;
Live a life to tantalize my veins;
On the hot asphalt of our dreams –

Racing for what you always long to say,
But you seem to bite down on
Your own words, biting to the point
Of bleeding, still your enthusiasm
Never subsides every time
You take my hand.

There’s a teeming love in this poem –
Burning beyond its own flame.
And truly death will be the only thing
To extinguish such an untamed flame.

Visions of death,
a love letter I wrote while dreaming about suicide-
She was in love with herself, and I loved her
to death; a slow cause to my own demise

Swimming empty pools; floating atop most of our dreams-
sinking away in that old familiar feeling of being so blue
I hear the ever-chasing sirens of the emergency factors
for all these years that go on and on and on…
I’m like an endless song; playing the tune of my heart-
till it sets away by the glum of missed hope by the dawn

I live my days to begin a new ending, for all of the regret
that comes in turns- running so far without any real direction;
to be at the destination I wasn’t expecting. Still joy surrounds
these hungry eyes; so let’s feast on more of the life we have
left to smile

As we are the children still haunted by most of our old dreams-
where the echoes of their tears become our present fears
To the people we look up to, who look to us below their feet-
they’ve underestimated how far we’re willing to believe in
those forgotten dreams. Drawing close to circles of all the things
that seem to repeat in a world that never stops spinning- yet where
we stamp our feet; are all the lessons I hope to leave behind
for my kids

I am the attire of addressing yourself in all your needs- the tradition
of struggles, and a sickening religion of pretending you’re okay for
all those not so okay to see; I am a faith mixed with a bit of doubt;
but I’d still be grateful to figure all these things out- would the
Heavens provide me a bit of help?

In the comforting embrace of conversation, I find myself
questioning my true emotions, reflecting on all the places I've
wandered beneath the stars, where the moonlight gently caresses
my dark skin. Tears flow freely on this soft mattress, so many
tears I feel myself slowly sinking. As I once dreamt with
wide-open eyes in my youth, but as the years passed,
I must have forgotten how to actually cry.

The nightmares echo louder behind these closed eyelids,
leaving me to ponder the purpose of the night amidst my
restless daydreams. I find solace in the pool of my own
tears, indifferent to the fact that many days feel surreal.
My existence hinges on the authenticity of my joy-
  a joy discovered, instead of crafted by human hands.


I adjust my words, shifting the tone of my confidence.
As in another life, I emerged from the ocean, carrying
all the tears, that you’ll never get to see. I continue to wear
this mask of tears, hiding behind a facade that desperately
seeks to mirror a version of myself that remains elusive.

In many of our dreams, we might have lost our footing.
My dear, don’t you find that the landscapes reflected
in your gaze are far more elusive?

They hide within the shadows of your smile, even as
they drift away, yearning to spill their essence.

Yet, despite the space that separates us—me like the
vast ocean and you like the luminous moon—our love
remains a presence felt but never found.

I can hear the echo of your tears,
even when you’re not around- it’s a pity that your
cries make you a fortress vast and overwhelming-
you’re a vision without sight; my words vanish
into the silence of your lips right after we kiss

All your gifts are spoken, too bad when you
speak, they never really have an ear for you.

That’s why I’m always listening, tuned into
the melody of your tears.

Are we not the sorrow that lingers over the grave—
reflecting on the loss, caught in this state of mourning?
Or are we destined to sink into the depths of those
yellowed memories? My bones tremble at times, and I
find myself lost in thought—yet the fleeting joy persists,
though it remains forever out of reach.

We share laughter like tales over drinks, capturing
moments in a plastic bottle; allowing decay to set in
as we push forward. Each night whispers a prayer for
the dawn, yearning for a horizon filled with forgotten
dreams. The thought of sleep fills me with dread.

As I weep for those seeking solace in suicide
those down to earth fleeing the common ground
humanity has morphed into a threat to redemption—
their artistry has forged dangerous weapons.
We strive to preserve our past, yet we conveniently
ignore the ravages of conflict— the insidious plague proliferates.
All the remarkable ones lie lifeless, frozen in their brilliance.

The thought of sleep fills me with dread; for in
my closed eyes I see the world for what it is.

Would you dare to pull the trigger-
to press against my heart with the hope that its
rhythm could stretch beyond the confines of this moment?
I am equipped, armed with nothing but a pen, crafting
vivid strokes that dance across the pavement.
I soar above the streets, claiming the heavens as I navigate
the solid paths that define my existence in this urban landscape.

Beneath the joy of the breeze-
the winds reveal the essence of true freedom, whispering
through the branches; that sensation will return once more.
The elements have no true companion or confidant in
this harsh reality, lamenting, “it’s too **** hot, it’s so
freaking cold, this rain is too much, oh God, where has
the rain gone to?”

We exist in a peculiar state of numbness,
caught in the oddity of pointing out the flaws in others
while neglecting to reflect on our own.

How wondrous it is, the way we shift,  
Like seasons turning, giving life a lift.  
Yet more enchanting is the way we feel,  
As transformations weave a poignant reel.

For just as storms may brew in skies above,  
So too do changes stir the hearts we love.

As we are under the shadowy guise of white,
let the echoes of your dreams resonate in your ears;
tears softly trace your cheeks in the dim light.
A smile twitched on your lips, often pretend yet
familiar—could it be that amidst the crowd,
I found myself falling for you?

Our gazes locked, a silent yearning hung in the air,
and a mood quivered to be kissed — losing the bass
of a voice; my own chest forgets how to speak,
I’m lost in the depths of my own heart.

I’ve whispered prayers to myself, as your smile
illuminated the moment, and I only heard in a poem
that someone could impart the whisper of their
desires by a kiss planted on someone’s lips-
for their dreams to grow

Ensnared in the crossfire of emotions, the sun
poured its golden rays into my very being, liken
to the fatigue of someone’s else wet dreams, you’ll grow
tired swimming through them at every stroke. So, before
we embark on this journey, hold tight to your essence,
as the days of flesh once again weave their memories,
igniting a spirited hope for what lies ahead…

I’m unravelling, caught in the whirlwind of my thoughts; and if
I take my last breath; I’ll seal it with a prayer. I’d ponder,
“Where have you wandered, where have you fled— was that a
thinking cap or merely a shattered crown?” Seeking sanctuary
for my restless mind, as we all drift gently away from all the
burden of days

Drawing the curtains, teetering on the brink, weighing down
under the weight of endless days; I’m a heart-shaped fortress,
striving to guard love, yet I loathe it when some of it finds
a way to escape.  

I would grow weary of clinging tightly if my grasp was the
sole reason for their turmoil. They’ll entomb your tale within the
verses, preserving the melody. It’s a heart-wrenching feeling,
striving to hold onto those, we’ve lost. In the quest for what
remains elusive, we often lose our way in love. Yet, may God
grant them the resilience to continue holding on.

I wish I could tell you, “I love you”
just one more time— but the way our lips met,
I sought your forgiveness, not your consent. Still it
feels like an eternity since our last embrace; that gentle
warmth enveloped us, as those flushed cheeks beneath
my hand still had time to glow…
…

Let me look into those sparkling tears one final
time— cherishing the fleeting moments we shared, doesn’t
that memory feel extraordinary? Yet, when I falter, I often
convince myself it’s simply because I’m a man, but my
intentions are pure, by my arm and hand, just struggling
by the want to hold a bit too long

Open to a kiss as we speak; tasting the bittersweet
harmony of your love and sorrow in a single breath.
Yet, I wear a facade of a smile—mourning the kisses
and whispers that have slipped away on the wind, while
a trace of heartache lingers on my lips.

I found myself unable to express my emotions once
more, or perhaps I was simply repeating the
same sentiments.

My floors are drenched in crimson, wine cascading
like unsolicited wisdom, a testament to my attempts at maturity,
Hoping it seeps into people’s gaze. Yet, to their astonishment,
I revel only in the celebration of my own existence.
Fragments of my being are enamoured with self-love,
serving myself a lavish feast of introspection.

In my unconventional revelries, I find my heart eager to
drift apart, tethered to someone who thrives far from the
clutches of shame. As you dwell in the dreamscape you've
crafted- a vivid mural of your own utopia; I firstly succumb
to tears on my pillow, muffling all the echoes of my anguish.

My floors remain a vivid red; every moment of pretence
fades into oblivion, yet the pain lingers. Time hangs heavy on
my wrist, each second bleeding away, striving to meet an
acceptable standard. My fears and anxieties rise with the sun's
glow, while many struggle to confront their own truths,
choosing instead to bury them deep.

My floors are undeniably red; beneath the veil of existence,
amidst the tumult of conflict—can you hear the whispers of
those desperately clinging to life, do their floors cry in
red too?

Physical desires intertwine with emotional sensations;
the gentle caress of skin speaks volumes about the essence of
one’s character. Unveiling the joy nestled deep within your spirit,
playful, alluring smiles flicker in the radiance of her being.
As the weight of guilt, anger, and anxiety often shadows the one
you cherish, mingling with the mysteries that linger unspoken.
In the wake of a love that has slipped away, she dances through
fragments of her dreams, clad in well-worn socks, still striving to
find her footing. There’s a lingering fear of being tainted by another-
whether through intimacy or confusion—yet she clings to the
innocence of her youth.

A lovely woman stands at your threshold, inviting you to
embrace her; don’t hesitate to welcome her warmth, for her heart
deserves to be cherished. Public displays of affection may be mere
theatrics, but the sincerity behind your words can convey her true
value, no matter the distance between you. Take pride in calling her
yours, but remember, she is not a possession; she is a daughter
of the Divine.

Seek not your reward in her actions meant to please you,
but rather find joy in the vulnerability she shares exclusively with
you, unmasked and genuine. Honour her in such a way that even
with her eyes closed, she can still feel your presence.
Love your woman fiercely, safeguarding her as your treasured gem—
not by offering the world, but by creating a sanctuary where
both of you can thrive together

The days pass by in their own magnificence —
that brilliance of a radiant sun, illuminating
all around with its natural intensity and warmth.
But fortunes now stand as a beacon of their unparalleled
richness, so akin to perfect health, while hearts wear
their emotions openly on their sleeves, displaying an
unwavering untrue transparency that desires to still
captivate the world.

Deep within the hidden recesses of their beings lies a
dream, delicately tucked under the protective shelter of
their collarbones, waiting to blossom and unfurl into reality.
Connections to the past linger like ties to neckties
well-hidden beneath the surface, silently influencing
present actions and future paths.

Despite the passage of time, some still find themselves
immersed in past troubles, carrying a heavy burden symbolized
by the chip on their shoulder, gradually accumulating into a
weighty packet as age advances. With each passing year, the
resistance to healing grows stronger, manifesting as a cold
shoulder turned towards the prospect of finding solace
and restoration. Cold souls under the warmth of the Sun.

Cradle nights and rocking thoughts-
tears stained in star dust, rising breaths shot by
the rockets burning at your throat. You had a smoke
before you’ll come and go- who could have known
the worry pressed against your heart, after that hovering
press of your thumb to send that message on your phone.

“Hey could you pick me up, I didn’t sleep at home,”
you slept over at the place you shouldn’t have- you
usually sleep alone; but how he kept an open mind and
open conversation; being the best intention and attention
someone could give you to keep you close.

It felt so good to be heard, for someone to put you
on top while he slept on the floor- but you grow jaded,
knowing that its going to be really awkward between you
both; spending the night with your best friend’s crush
The one you couldn’t tell her you had known long before;
having a bit of a fling before- but hoping no one would
actually know.

But as soon as she comes around to pick you up,
to take you back home- oh she’ll certainly know.

Find myself, find myself- trying to find something to write about;
the words arrive as if they owe me a debt for the reflections
I’ve already invested. If you could loan me a few phrases,
to bank on crafting something that’s truly worth your time.

We shared a moment, you pouring out your thoughts while
I absorbed every word, my voice trapped in a writer’s block.
Kissing by that corner, parked in my feelings- we took a neutral
agreement that our first kiss would remain a secret between us.
But we had shifting ideas; you preferred discretion, while I
yearned to shout from the rooftops about finally kissing a girl.

But I… had this imagination of being able to read your mind
by your eyes spelling of tears- each time you cried out what
your first relationship should be. But could it be just me,
thinking that you were hinting at something, when you
spoke those words, to maybe pass a hint at me?

And I’m like a folding chair for the memory of you, sitting
on my mind- folding into myself; collapsing inward, delicate
as paper ready to be transformed into paper planes- the again,
I was just a guy flying around your head.

                                  A fly by night crush.

Adios— and kudos to those we wished to have known better;
those we could have cherished more deeply than the first
lovers who introduced us to the art of Love.

Fit me in your glove of memories, holding onto the finest
moments of your past— walk me along the winding journey of
your heart. That road, with its unexpected twists and steep climbs,
that even the purest of all love encounters, has its share of bumps
and hiccups. Hic— all those hickeys you tried to conceal beneath
a high collar, were mere whispers of affection hidden from prying
eyes. Yet, I never felt the need to mask my own; it was as if I was
denying a piece of the love I always held onto- for a period.

In the flavour of unspoken words—we rarely conversed
face-to-face; instead, we lost ourselves in endless texts and phone
calls. Reflecting on that frustrates me, for I could pour my heart
into a fleeting love poem, while the words I longed to share in
person danced just out of reach, trapped by my mouths writer's block.

The hopeless romantic hopes for love just as fiercely, but it
feels hopeless as those who feign strength right after their
hearts have been broken. Its so easy to lie to yourself.