A masterpiece of intricate mosaic,
a beauty underlied with chaos.
She lets them see,
what she wants them to see.

As you read stanza per stanza,
words interwine with your emotions.

They embrace them in their inked grooves,
like your depths, tangles and cobwebs
has found words to finally be tuck into
and call home.

The waves of emotion lap
against your jagged shores.
Their 27 alphabets playing the cords
and heartstrings of your heart
as though the cadence was at the same
wavelength.

Threads of connection form
to another soul that you did not know of.
Their books become your home,
etching parts of your soul,
mind and heart as though it is a
torn page of the book that has returned.

With her jagged edges she stands,
gazing upon the connection between the well versed,
as her language remains misunderstood,
dark and chaotic.

Her edges are sharp,
and grooves are too deep.
The rhythm of her heart
& blood pulsation
feel out of orbit.

An outsider,
an outcast
trying to jam to fit in puzzles;
blunting her edges,
painting herself with different hues to blend.
Yet within she is out of tune.

Oh my dear bumble bee
She said as she caressed
her soft honey colored hair.

Stay humble
through your flight so high.
Emerge with a special glee
Of bustling-buzzing excitement.

Let your golden stripped wings
Carry you to scope lands for enchantment.
To collect those dusty pollen
and transfigure them to honey
for you and others.

A honey comb of a heart
Resides in you my dear
So allow the honey to drip from your tongue.

And when science tries to prove
With their theories and mathematical proportions
that you can not fly high
Let them taste the sweetness
Of your hustle
and the sight of your flight.

I basked in the light
Of the present moments sight
But all of a sudden
Your words triggered a bitter memory
And now I want to visit an infirmary.

But oh wait this can’t be bandaged to heal
For it is a resurface from a wreckage.
It crawls from the breakage
With a clinging message
that causes landslides
and scrapes my insides.

My thoughts collide
as my emotions become tide.
My lips become sealed
As I no longer want to speak.

But then I’ll lose my mystique
And become invisible;
Vincible
In the hands of my shadowy past.

You told me not to be “sensitive” 
So here I am trying to deflect,
but I end up absorbing the pain of your words,
the intricacies of this world,
pretending not to care about what is said 
and has happened.

I hold the tears in,
place a mask on my face,
and a lock on my lips
so that none would spill.

But now I feel numb
unaware of how I feel
and unable to cry.

Now, here you are
calling me emotionless.

I guess there was no in between;
either a heart of ocean
or a heart of stone.

The pain rots and sheds,
as it smoulders her bones
and burns her skin third degree.

Loss and jealousy enwrap
her scorched heart into ashes,
while lava flows off her tongue
as it promises vengeance.

She becomes a vortex of emotions
engulfing her own life,
dwelling in the
merry go round thoughts.

Until she picks up the pen
and tucks the rage and ache
within the 26 alphabets
stringing words,
to sentences to paragraphs.

Ashes and embers stain the paper
as they ebb, blot and flow,
crafting the cathartic relief
until the paper stains darker
than the shades of her mind.

The blues that would pour,
become the budding flowers
in her chest.

She remodifies
cobblestones into steppingstones,
amplifying her narrative.

She tosses the losses
into words
and crosses beyond the horizon.

A candle flame burns deep
inside her solar plexus
as she transmogrifies the shards into a mosaic;
the strings of the web she was entangled in
weaved into embroidery to embellish her soul.

The cries and lies,
made her wise
as she built from the same sorrows
she was drowning in.

She put her ache on cadence
and turned up a brain wavelength.

She finally found her salvation
from abandonment
a dive deep and wide into
the depth of introspection
pulling from the cronies and nooks
the parts built and undiscovered.

She armed herself with
empathy fueled passion
as she has burnt, learnt
and learn to yearn the better
while she steers forward
with a transfigured mindset.

For the people who came,
now leave as poems.

She was more than her skin color. She was more than her features. She was more than just her appearance. It was about her soul. It was about her pure heart. It was about her mind. It was about her passions. It was about the beauty of who she was and what she did. It wasn’t just about intimacy or appearance. It was about her moral beauty more than physical beauty. It was about exploring the depths that made her who she is. She’s the one you could explore the corners of your mind, the one you get lost with during deep and soul enriching talks. She was more than just her skin, she was the ocean. She was a Kalon –  beauty that is more than skin deep. And only the ones who who look beyond skin deep will see her for who she really is.

To the person
whose fierce loyalty
brings comfort.

Whose embracing hug
turns my hurricanes
into a whiff of wind.

The person who's my emotional crutch
on the struggling of days.
And the life vest
when I am drowning in pain.

To the person whose vibrant of all hues,
the bliss in my blues.
The shelter from torrential rain
And escape from my aching pain.

The listener
of my stirring experiences
and muddled-darkened thoughts.

The one
Who's ear is made of patient-empathetic cells
And words of underlying calmness
that seeps deep into the depth of my bones
and soothes my soul.

With you
Best moments are
Exponentially happier;
Much more vivid and illuminated
Worst times made bearable
And Infinitely less nerve-wracking.

You are my go-to
at any point of day.
The Christina to my Meredith
And the star of my Starbucks visits.

I am grateful to be
deeply embedded in your heart
as you are in mine.
To be your sanctuary
As I am yours.

"I am trying to hold on. Even to the silliest and littlest of things. Even if it’s temporary. But there isn’t anything in my reach. Just grasping darkness. Nothingness. I am trying to tell you, my cry for help is soft almost as a breeze. Through little hints, please try to see. But it is going by un-noticed. There is no one to save me. Nothing to hold. I am slipping. I feel myself letting go. There is no tug from the heart that attachments were once etched to. I feel myself letting go of the thin life line I hold. Letting my life go as the tears that leave my eye and the crimson blood that spills from my skin. I slip, as I slip into sleep.”

I kept it in;
the words,
the pain,
the sea lapping against the **** walls
constantly urging to spill.

But I silenced the crashing waves,
muted my voice box
while it was hurting me.

I was internally raging and bleeding
but there were no bruises,
scars or lines for you to read.
Just a plastered smile on my face
while I was sulking internally.

I was choking on the words within me
Hoping my feelings would drown
Hoping that I would forget
But I never did.

They lived
ebbing and flowing through my veins
Making me feel Inhibited and limited
Till it broke open and rained down.

No one could see
Till the day tears started to roll down my cheeks
And that's when everything started
to come down as ashes
words and bullets.

“It hurt. It hurt even more because you were close to me. It hurt because I cared about what you thought and said. You mattered to me, and that created a soft spot for you. But you left me. You betrayed me. You lied with the empty words. And you pushed me every time I came close with an act of care.
Now you say I am cold and emotionally distant. But that’s what I had to do to avoid being crippled by the emotional and mental wounds and scars, for I had enough. I am not a fool anymore; I know how this goes. Because every time I open up, all it does is hurt. So now every time you hurt me, the less I cry. Every time you leave me, the quicker these tears dry. And every time you walk out, the less I love you. Because every time it happens, the less you matter to me. So I am not going to let you close to me, even though you mean the most to me and I mean the most to you; in case you leave me in the dirt. Because the truth is baby, I am just protecting my innocence, heart, mind and soul now.”

There are days,
when she feels lost in the universe
that exists in her mind;
overthinking herself to oblivion.

There are days,
when she feels she is downing
in the depths of her thoughts.
Drowning in the sea of her emotions,
tears turning into high tides
destroying peace of mind.

Night bleeds into morning
Sun dissolves the moon

She wants to come out for a breath
and just breathe the light air.
Feel the lightness of it,
as it enters her lungs -  
the simplicity of it.

She is losing more of herself.

She sat there with her rusty voice box, a  drought on her tongue and a pen aching to flood the pristine sheet with blue ink.
She poured pain into words of refuge and tucked the love etched memories into words.
She wrote to the ones she loved, who made her heart beat ever so intensely. For who rooted her strengthening her spine with courage. For the ones who betrayed, abandoned and hurt making her swallow sorrows whole on empty stomach.
She undressed her truth as she painted shades of past, resurfacing the suppressed from the dustiest parts of her mind, reigniting the dying embers. As she wrote thoughts screamed to be heard, memories weeped to be replayed as she crafted sentences, paragraphs, beginning and ends, sunrises and sunsets; the breathing of her heart allowing her to feel a sense of relief.
But she never sent them, for they were riskier to be read by them than to be tucked safely away.

Invisible people
Figment of my imagination
Borrowed in my subconscious
touching and reaching
grabbing and pulling
whispering and fueling
Fear and doubt
Insecurities and pain
Every second
Of every day.

Their whispers
perforates my self-esteem
withers my self-belief
deteriorates my self-image.

My mind feels like a battlefield
A constant fight of not caring
of what they think
or say.

For there are days
When I set my mind
In to prioritizing my moment
passion, purpose, fun, and life
And not care.

But some days
they encroach into my mind
Seep through the cracks
Diffuse between the synapses
firing terror.

Letting me stare once more
at my own abyss.

“It’s becoming tougher to love you every time you hurt me. It’s becoming tougher to trust you every time you betray me. It’s becoming tougher to be vulnerable every time you exploit me. It’s becoming tougher to lend you my heart when it feels like an open wound in your hand. You taunt me every opportunity you find, brag about my flaws occasionally, criticize and act cold at times. I am tired of visiting the restroom as though it is my sanctuary during occasions, shedding tears and walk out numbing my heart. We ought to be encouraging, loving and supporting one another and not pushing the other down to rise. But the heartaches are becoming often and old wounds are being reopened. It’s becoming tiring to experience it over and over again. I guess for it to not hurt anymore, it shouldn’t matter anymore.”

At times,
I find myself
tearing my fibers apart.
Picking out one neuron
from another,
and wrecking myself
from within.
To find,
the next morning,
I have been
built once more.
This time,
just differently.

Time is slipping.
moments are fading,
deadlines are approaching
and emotions are changing.

Everything is
modifying,
dimming,
evolving
and reforming.

It's a tightening feeling in the chest
that catches my breath.
But then I exhale
letting it loose.

Life is moving forward,
days are coming close,
anxiety is getting worse
and I don't feel prepared.

But I have today,
I have this moment,
I can make something of this time.
Little by little,
day by day,
it will be alright.

There are days,
when I feel emotionally overwhelmed
with negativity.
I start to notice the hesitancy
in people's voices,
I start reading and interpreting
between lines.
I start to notice all the
negative intricacies that can hurt me
and over analyze to have found myself
creating chaos within myself.

It is during those days,
do I feel drained that I don't
have the energy to positively
reinforce my own thoughts.

These are the days,
I need reassurance,
perspective change
from someone, other
than myself.

Peace and Tranquility is what existed before you came
But you stepped in once more
Making my heart create chaos with every rapid heartbeat
Leaving me indecisive between my fragile heart and wise mind every step of the way
You leave me ambivalent, conflicted, entangled within a cobweb of emotions and thoughts
Contradicting one another and tearing me apart

"Having gone through it once did not mean it did not hurt the second time. It is painful, raw and heart-wrenching. But I know I am going to get through it. I know I have to invest in myself, the people who I love and love me back and invest in the things that make me feel better so that my past would not hold me captive. I know if I was to work for the better, I would be much happier with my present and would not go back to rekindle with my past as I would have accepted the suffering is part of the path of finding my strength and a better self."

- excerpt from an open letter

Maybe,
I never felt deserving
or enough
for love.
So, I let
my mind break my heart,
before you get a chance
to break it.

I am still that shy girl who’s afraid to approach people and have her words and thoughts heard. I am still that girl who fantasizes scenarios of her confident self. I am still that girl who’s afraid of social interaction. I am still that girl who mentally prepares herself just to say hi on the phone. I am still that girl who’s silent in one of those corners. I am still that girl who mutters and stutters words and sometimes finds it difficult to decipher her own emotions and thoughts. I am still that girl who doesn’t run because she’s afraid of her body being judged. I am still that girl and is more magnified some days.
Just this time she has a little more faith in herself. She wants to be louder than her “not good enough” talks. She wants to be bolder and burn brighter than her fears. She doesn’t want to be en-caged by the fear of others thoughts and words because it really wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth not reaching her potential. It wasn’t worth not moving forward. She’s the same girl, with the same dreams except for this time she wants to move past the fear for herself.

Web of thoughts in my mind
Flow of emotions in my veins
Leaving me indecisive about the action to take.

I try to find a balance,
only to find myself in a tug of war
between my impulsive-fragile heart and wise brain.

Incertitudes, chaos, doubt, and fear
overpower certitude, tranquility, trust, and confidence.
leaving me ambivalent about my thoughts and emotions
overthinking and overanalyzing.

Because if I don't act accordance to my mind,
I face consequences.
If I don't abide by my heart,
I regret.

Hopes and dreams
are soft and fragile
as the petals above.
Bathing and blossoming
in the radiating warmth,
love and happiness
of the sun.
But attached to these
fragrant petals
are thorny stems
the one needs to climb
to bathe and breathe
the intoxicating and enriching aura.

“I can’t  b  r  e  a  t  h  e.  You’re trying to sheathe me from the world. But I just want  to scream and flee. I want to leave, I want to escape. I don’t want to be bounded, I don’t want to be caged. But your muscles are possessive, hands like shackles and ribs encasing and engaging. Your scent clings to my finger and your embracement breaks my bones. Your words make decisions for me, exerting boundaries onto me. You’re stifling my breath and suffocating me. You want my blood to move at your accord. But I am drowning, choking and gasping. You’re pushing me away by entitling me. Your possessiveness knows no limits as you become invasive. You say it’s just because you love me, that you would go beyond any limit; but it’s obsessive. I feel like I am on a leash. I am no longer my own person, but a puppet to my master. A land to your dominian.”

I am afraid to say sorry,
I am afraid to be soft.
For when I am hurt,
I become stone-cold.
I hold back my tears,
bite my lower lip from trembling
So you see no signs of weakness.
I become inhumane
And show you no weakness.
I'll ignore what you say
While it slowly breaks me from within.

Thoughts eating away at my brain,
mouth drying away,
lips sealing my shrieking soul away,
tongue stuttering away,
heart palpating away,
lungs having no air,
muscles fidgeting away,
fear crippling my soul away,
nails chipping away,
stress rushing to my brain,
vision blurring away,
tears streaming down my face,
body trembling away
as anxious nerves take me away.

She is the unsung lyrics,
the pieces of her favorite quotes stitched together.
When one plucks the lyre of her heart
melancholy melody soothes another heart.

She is a pallet full of rich and moody colors.
Sometimes she is bold like the streak of red of the sky at dawn
or delicate as soothing soft colored pastels.
At times she's vibrant
with her colors high on hue
and at times she is dim and quite.

She is contoured with passion;
whirlwind of colors
coaxing the brushstroke
as she is canvassed.

She is the evocative strokes
of a tempestuous soul
of curious contrast;
an exquisit chaos.

She is the raw,
broken tiles pieced together
into a mosaic
s intricate masterpiece like picasso's.

Her body
Her soul
is constantly moulding
sculpting into a phasing masterpiece.

She is an album;
a gallery.
She wasn't built to validate
to be understood
and loved by all
She's supposed to make you feel in the way she thought.

For she is the enigmatic narrative of her truth
and a beautiful ambiguity.

I need to teach myself
that when they leave,
when they fall out of love,
when they reject,
It's not always because of my inadequacy
but rather it speaks
volumes about them.

Talking to you
when I felt weird,
makes me feel insane and crazy.

Talking to you
when I am sad
makes me feel I am sensitive and emotional.

You made me feel all this in the worst of ways,
because I met someone who,
when I was crazy, was crazy with me.
When I was sad, they understood me.

In their acceptance I found who I was
and embraced myself for who I am.

Detached;
My strings have detached
Like the vowels and constants I speak detached.
I watch the world
Through eyes not of mine
And live in a body
Living a life that doesn’t feel mine.
My chest feels empty
And my tone sounds vacant.
I am floating
Further from conscious
With no one to ground me
Everything seems not to be mine
To feel to touch
No matter how much I try.
For it merely feels like mist
Through which I pass my hand through.

You are calling
and I just keep staring
frozen
my heart resonates
to the vibration of the ringing phone.

My eyes are hazzy
My mind is fuzzy
I don't know what to say
For I fear I will make a fool of myself
leaving to end the conversation
on an awkward note.

The call ends
I breathe
to calm my nervous nerves.

I call back
only to find myself stutteringg
and being overly conscience
with every word I say
dreading to have called
as the call ends.

My voice is not a font
My face is not pixelated
My life isn’t a snap
My emotions aren’t emoticons
My love isn’t a tap
My compliments aren’t comments
I am not down there,
but up here .

The colors of your memory, you can no longer contrast as they swirl into one another.At times they are vibrant as though you are vividly living them experiencing them,and at times they are dull as though they have faded and been acid washed.

Your past slips into the present and present slips into the past. Some days you love me;as though it was the first time you are holding me in the palms of promises. But there are days when my name never slips your tongue and I am a mere stranger to you.

The memories are no longer stored in your mind, but on gigabytes that I have to play – that has become your storage and retrieval. Your memory has become pixelated, but you can no longer remember them as though it was your own.

Some days you’re on a carousel of memories in your mind; revering and your tongue has forgotten its language. At times you speak eloquently, but at times they are stars that are unlinked and lost. You used to weave constellations but now it’s difficult to put in a thread into the needle.

Thread of your memories begins to wear and the tales woven through ancestry fray with details as the world slips away and the thread unwinds. You try revising the tales, but the thinning at ends of your recollection slowly fades.

The scent infused with ambiance sends echoes of familiar places, resulting in you having spasms of remembrance while the flutters of moth wings beat at the edge of your mind.

There are days when you become a shell of yourself, as your pupils remain fragments detached from reality. I watch you as you wind yourself back in front of my eyes. Ebbing and flowing, freezing and releasing; trying to make sense of the confusion and panic that riles in your mind.

Though you feel, your stars are growing cold and feel like an ethereal that has collapsed, your smile is still the brightest star in the furthest galaxy. It is made of combustion of crimson blue yonder and candy hues.

Though your palms are dreams wrinkled dry, and your memories are falling like baby tooth, as the color of your speech is bleached and you frantically scavenge for memories to ground and make sense - I’ll be there to hold your scattered mind with patience and love you the days you won’t remember me as your own

Maybe our past version
could never make it work.
Maybe they weren't meant to be.
They knew to little
and felt too much.

But now that we've picked up
our broken pieces
and rebuilt ourselves.

Reconnected with ourselves.
Changed, grown
and matured.

I wonder if it is meant to
be between these two
evolved souls.

Can't you see the signs?
Couldn't you see I was losing myself to the darkness?
I know I didn't reach out
I know I didn't open up
But I tried to show through
one way or another.
Because no matter
how hard i tried to disguise it,
I wanted someone to see the
pain and reach out.
Some of you did care,
but no one showed enough care

But who am I to blame,
I didn't show myself enough care .
I should've cared enough for myself
to not give up on myself.

I should've relied on myself,
rather only on others.
To care enough of myself,
but now I've gone to sleep
and I see no save.

A vile of acid on your tongue.

You words are like toxins I inhale,
suffocating every breath I take,
injecting self doubt in my veins.
Muscles trembling with every pace,
landfiling my heart with every beat.

Blaming and calling
crazy and emotional
in response to your says,
leaving me to question
my own sanity everyday.

You felt like a insidious catalyst;
a cancerous wound,
a rabid havoc,
a malicious destruction
withering me in the subtlest of ways.

But here we are once again,
rekindling old flames
even when we know it's poisonous for us to stay.

Don't know if we're too weak to leave
or are too mindlessly lusting
for the poison to infiltrate our bloodstream
and corrupt us  to our cellular level.

Either way, it's a grosteque addiction
for the soul, mind and heart.

Sailing the guilty-seas
as regret trickles down my spine
and unloads
its over-thought-husky-murky-thoughts
upon my shoulders.

My daily rations are here:
shame, regret and guilt.
They’re brewing me to the bone;
into a rotten broth.

My thoughts pace
backwards and forwards
from guilt —
for remaining stagnant,
one of the past.

For being recycled
relentlessly-unbreakably
in this unhealthy cycle.

It is a cycle
of forget me nots;
such vile fetters.

But no dose can
reverse the abused time,
the stutters-and-mutters
the time that slipped my grips
and the sins
that swallowed my innocence whole.

For remorse, guilt and shame
only anchor us back
unless we were to morph them
to fuel and experience
to propel us forward.

She is chaos and beauty entwined
hiding and blending
behind the delicate roses;
thorns are her guard
for no one can take away
the veil that conceals her.

Taste the world;
with every dish
that brings such a bliss.

Let your receptors explore,
the burning sensation of spice;
the tingling sensation of sour.

Allow your tongue to be coated
in the cotton candy sweetness.

Take crusty bites between your teeth
letting it explode into a thousand little pieces -
dancing inside your mouth.

Allow the citrusy undertones
to trigger serotonin
and curve the edges of your mouth.

Allow your brain to relish
your taste buds to embellish
as your hunger diminishes.

I have a voice
behind this tongue
that is quiet and sky
and knotted in my throat.

I have a voice
that whispers to me
but i fear to amplify,
for you see it reflects on who am I.

I fear of what they might think,
as it is not an attempt at speaking
but an insight to my perspective,
and thoughts
allowing them to know and judge.
It's a fear I dread to face,
that consumes me everyday,
I don't face.

I have a voice,
its mine
and I don't want it to be
muted by people
and neither fear.

I have voice,
that it is all mine,
that I will amplify.

For it is a part of
who I am, my opinions
my thoughts,
I choose for it not to be taken away,
neither suppressed.

I give it a platform,
a channel,
and courage
to let it speak
its very own language.

Liberating me
with every syllable it lets slip.

A smile masked on her face
concealing the grief that poured
out of her face.

Like the rose was our love,
watered with the best of selves,
soaked in the light of our presence;
flourishing and blooming.
But now memories are crumbling
and our love is withering and fading.
A dead rose is the only remainder
from a life of beauty and admiration.
Now we love in the shadows
and stolen whispers
of the weak and brittle petals

I am not okay
And sometimes that’s all I can get myself to say.
For I don’t know how to explain
There is no pain
But there is an ache.
There are no thoughts
But there is chaos.
There is an urge to cry
But no tears to shed.
There is nothing
But there is something
Unexplainable and numb
Light and heavy
Suppressing and dark
There is something unknown
which is making me feel
Queasy and at unease
And that’s all I can say.

Why do you
keep going
back to the ones who've hurt you
wasn't the memory enough?

Why do you
keep going
back to the toxicity
wasn't one inhalation enough?

Inhale,
love, compassion and kindness.
Inhale,
care, positivity and happiness.
Your soul needs it’s replenishment,
before you exhale it out as others encouragement.
So sow and grow fields of flowers,
flourish, bloom and bathe in the sunlights nourishment.
Then give, give and give.
For what we give,
enriches us as well, from day to day.

Once she chased happiness
and now she chases broken pieces.
She fell in love with pain,
it drove her insane.
For who would want to hurt themselves?

Who would choose to
love to be heartbroken,
run back to the ones who would hurt,
reminisces painful memories to be hurt,
indulge in negativity, to drown in its depths
be comforted by demons than people.

But no one saw,
for there were no scars,
for it was mental self harm.

Pain it craved,
fear, rejection and sadness it ate.

She cried, because it was self harm
she screamed, and shouted
asking herself did she not love herself
to be hurt by her own self?

By losing herself in her passions
She found her authentic self

How do I explain to you the feeling of
inadequacy when someone loves or compliments?

How do I explain to you the fear of being a disappointment
or not having climbed up to someone's level of expectation?

How do I explain when without warning I am plagued
with self doubt, layered with chaotic-heavy-blues
and harboring insecurities?

How do I explain when I don't want
these thoughts to matter?
when I just want them to be deprived
of care that they die within,
and never surface to my skin.

But somehow like the crashing waves
they envelope me in the depths and like
the black hole **** me from within.