Stuck in a dream of sun and sea,
I knew those days would matter so much to me.
Your head on my lap, my heart in your hands,
as we buried our worries beneath the sand.

What a wonder it was,
that the world didn't seem to mind
Our undivided attention
And all our stolen time.

Yet it was only time that seemed to be
Our only downfall, our enemy.
For time has the strongest heart
Enough to tear the greatest lovers apart.

Today, I look for you still
in the pages I read, in sheets as soft as silk.
You seem to live in every part
Of anything that matters to my heart.

And as the end of our old days came near,
I didn't count the minutes, I never feared.
I didn't bother to listen to the clock tick,
but to even think of you leaving made me feel sick.

Now we are years apart,
I could never even dream to call you mine.
Maybe if I prayed hard enough,
we would have had more time.

desire,

i ache to know you,
to watch you approach me like wildfire
and render me helpless because yes—
i wanted this,
exercised my wildest imaginations
against the wishes of religion and morality
on afternoons when there was nothing to do,
drowned every bit of guilt for the thrill
of the world’s secrets i’ve never known.
i want to know how it’s like to need a body other than mine,
to have senses heightened and feelings wild:
you on my skin,
delicate touches as if reading a map,
and when you leave a phantom hand lingers
only to have me ask for just a little bit more.
a little bit more, please.
i want to know how to melt into another,
in limbo between lust and love
not being able to tell which is heaven and which is hell.
i want to know desire,
to, for once, feed what my body yearns to feel
and to no longer put out
the secret fire that burns in my chest.

step into the shower
maybe this water will wash the pain away
like the rain would do for me and you
in the month of may

in this light i'll shed some skin
and leave behind words unsaid
maybe if i had done things right you'd be here
on the empty side of this bed

i'm sorry i thought i could be captain
of this ship we built for two
i thought that love was all we'd need
that dreams alone would do

maybe if i pray hard enough
i could forget everything and start anew
i'd erase all these things i've done
but never these memories of you

now who's dreaming beside you, love?
it used to be us two
we can't save each other from nightmares anymore
so now all i dream of is you

there's an undying storm in my heart
it grows so tall
it reaches my throat
and chokes me
stealing my speech
and brewing rainfall
that pours in the form of tears
from my eyes
it twists and turns
to knot my stomach
enough to stop me from smiling
it screams in thunderstorms
so deafening they fill my head
like thoughts i'd rather not have—
there's no way of stopping it
but to wait and take cover
to hide and hold on
to every corner, every string
only to survive

but storms eventually calm
and reach landfall
my heart sees the horizon overhead
when the skies are clear
and i think to myself:  
still, the good days rise,
still the good days rise.

there is a certain kind of motherhood
only an older sister knows is true
to not have borne a son from womb
but to have a friend of same blood
be a son, a gift and a light too
there must be some divinity in this
to be the one he calls on when
the cupboard is kilimanjaro for this little stranger
who is on some days foe and most days love
to be the santamaria as he climbs
on your own young shoulder blades
searching for ****** shores in worn out rooms
to be stronger than the thunder
that rumbles outside his bedroom window
to be stronger than you usually are
for the little boy whose arms cling onto you for peace
even when you are as pale as the moonlight
he claims to have followed him into our home
there is some strange purpose in this
to be guardian, disciplinarian, caretaker and girl
all at once
when our mother is too drunk to hug her son
when our father says nothing but hello
there is a kind of love
only a sister knows hurts this much
when that little snip of a man grows into boyhood
just as he grew out of your arms
when you are no longer every wonder of the world
you are simply a companion
and on good days: a comrade
always a sister and mostly a friend
there is a strange pull of the heart
at the sight of boyhood in motion
to see him cry and laugh and hurt just as you once did
to bear witness to his ripe exploration of the cosmos
and you think to yourself: were you ever this young?
he looks at you with eyes that mirror your own
yes. yes you were
there is a certain kind of motherhood
only an older sister knows is true
it is the nostalgic repetition of summers that once
seemed to last forever
it is holding your brother tight
when he is brave icarus before the fall
even more so when the time for tragedy comes
and your young, young brother realizes
that he does not bleed ichor like the gods
he bleeds red very much like his sister
there is so much love in this

i spent my childhood
with a conch shell in hand,
i'd be near the sea
even on land

for when i'd press
it to my ear
i'd hear the ocean
loud and clear

and that's when i realised:
i could have the world in my hands
if i believed enough
i could get to distant lands

Write about me
Tell me how your night isn’t complete
Without a goodnight phone call
Alongside a “sweet dreams” text;
And how it’s the only thing better
Than the good morning ones..

Write about me
Tell me how you hate that I stopped trying.
This other guy was never competition
You just wanted to see if I’d fight for you;
Please, make me feel like a fool
When you tell me how I failed your test
And only a dozen fresh Orchids
With a card quoting your favorite song
Would be enough to prove how serious
I am about you.

“There’s so much beauty in a storm”

Write about me
After that is said and done, watch as
I’ll dedicate hours trying to tell you
That it’s not because I don’t care
Or that none of what I said was real
It was just that;
Only that your happiness meant more
To me than mine ever could,
And I’d rather see you happy
With anyone else, than me failing
To put that beautiful smile
On the most deserving of faces..

Write about me
Tell me that it hurts when you hear me say
That I fear I’m not good enough
For a woman like yourself
In reality though - I mean you.
Your potential is limitless;
While I’m a work in progress
And you, princess. Don’t have the time
Or maybe even the will power
To build a man up to your level
When you deserve a golden crown
And a million peasants, kneeling
Before your throne, on which you proudly sit
While they beg for a minute of your time

You won’t write about me though
Because I’m aware none of this is true
My words may hold less meaning
Than I could even imagine,
But it doesn’t change the fact
This is what I want to hear.

“You owe me a poem”
You said to me.
What you didn’t know
Is that you already have two
That you’ll likely never see.
I promise this will be the last
(Unless you want more, that is)

(I)*
I have no intentions
I don’t want a thank you
I want you to be happy
I want you to smile while reading this
And laugh it up at my expense
(It’s pretty cheesy right?)

But you’re the only one
That I sit here at 7 AM
Writing about
When we've hardly spoken
In 3 days
At the very least,
I hope it’s an ego boost.

“I love poetry” you said
And I love to write;
This one though,
Isn’t for me
It’s yours.