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.

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?

The soft and delicate kindness
shining so bright in the darkness
as though it was the moonlight
calming all the sadness.

Kindness,
seeping through smiles
traveling miles,
as though it were the moonlight.

Kindness,
the one mistaken as weakness
when it is actually the fiery courage,
that wraps one soul like a blanket.

Kindness,
the reflection of the magnanimity of ones soul
and compassion in their action.

- Beautiful Sensitive Soul

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.

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?

I heard the lines you never said.
I care for you,
but not as much I do for her.
I love you,
but not as much as I love her.
For I was the girl that could never make you happy
as much as her smile simply did.

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

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.

“You know what hurts? The fact that you don’t want me the same way I want you. You don’t mind talking to me, but you don’t have the urge and want to talk to me anymore. You don’t mind having a conversation if I message, but you will never want to message. What hurts is that I can see it happening, subtly and gradually. I can see you losing interest in me. I can see those eyes wandering in search of someone else when once they were focused on me. I can feel the distance, I can see you fading.”

- Excerpt from an open letter

You notice the
bruises of many hues
painted across the ****** canvas
reflecting through the shade of mood.

You ask what happened?
But this question
would require me to break open the surface;
permeate my skin
for you to dissect,
explore the source
analyse and
do the autopsy of my past.

But I am not ready to show you
more than the bleed
that is close to the surface
threatening to break.

“Did you witness her rise from the cold, wet earth? Did you watch as her petals unfold? Did you see the way the dew drops glistened like diamonds on her red-blood petals? Did you hear the whispers of her mind, heart and soul diffusing and infusing in fragrance carried around?"

I know you're hurting,
and it seems everything is breaking
apart from every angle.

You feel your thoughts,
and emotions are weighing
your mind and heart.

You feel the days
are dragging you along with it.
You want to be alone,
you push away everyone around you.

I know your contemplating
between giving up,
you feel there is no light.

You feel it's tough,
overwhelming and draining.
You feel the darkness in you
is growing, consuming you cell by cell.
and you just don't fight anymore.

You just want it to stop.
But, I just want you to hang in
there a little longer.

I want you to hold on to the people
who love you even though you feel
there aren't any.

You are loved.
You matter.
Even when you feel
no one can save you,
even when you feel
no one can reach you.

But there is hope as long as there is life.
I want you to breathe.
Just have faith.
Because there is
something greater within you
than the pain or obstacle
you experience and encounter.

Dear anger,
my blood boils
my heart screams
as you make my rage active
and pain passive.

Dear anger,
you put me in danger
for you make me a stranger.
You need to get a grip,
because you make me flip.

Dear anger,
you make everything look so flammable.
Luring me to set my problems on fire.

Pain, insecurities and fears,
I burn it as fuel
to rage you.

I want to believe
that I am still sweet inside,
eventhough I am sad and tired.

But you make me believe
I am someone who inflicts pain,
is cold hearted and fake -
for she is unknown to me.

Don’t leave me for him. Don’t abandon our years of friendship for the man you just met. Don’t let him blind you to the extent I am invisible and deafen you to the degree my secrets no longer reach your ear.
But I guess my plead is too soft and late to be heard. Because now I am here clinging on to my heart and tasting the salty tears that roll down my cheeks. I am here reminiscing all the memories we made the time only the two of us spent together. My heart aches with every message you ignore and every outing you ditch me for him. You are fading, our friendship is withering and my loneliness is just deepening. You are my everything but it seems I am no longer yours anymore. You’re my first, but it seems I am no longer yours. For your secrets never find a way to my ear and time in my life.

- I never knew the inseparable could be separable

“Don’t let my name be the lyric to their cacophony of laughter. Don’t let me be the ridicule that your friends crack upon. I don’t want them to sip on our memories turning them into a hip story. So don’t give me away to their tongues that let my name slip ever so flippantly. Seal me in your heart where I would be untouched. Embed those memories in your mind as though they were sacred. Let my name be unknown and our stories untold. Let us be concealed for we are much more than the pleasantry gossip of their conversation” she said softly as she put down the phone.

“I’ll get over you”
I whisper to myself through the nights
memories haunt me
and your voice that taunts me.

But there are tears on my pillow,
tears on the ground.

My tears flow like the ocean,
dripping in slow motion,
scraping my skin
and bringing me down to my knees.

I find myself turning into a storm,
howling like the wind.
Clutching my heart
as though it was ripped apart.

I am unable to escape from the pain and ache
The constant search for your face
in the passing cars and soaring clouds.

My breath is stolen and gut twisted
at the sight of someone similar to you,
face turning to the side your name is called.

When will these feelings end?
When will I escape
from the shadow
that lurks in my mind and heart?

The loss that ran deep,
breaks open through resonating heartbreaking songs.

But I know the pain will wash out
and you will leave me
like a distant memory.

I’ll pick myself up
and won’t be feeling blue.
I know I’ll find love again
if I start loving myself.

In the midst of escaping
I no longer knew who I was.

She gave away the petals of love,
leaving the thorny stems behind.

I forgive you for hurting me.
I forgive you for lying to me,
for betraying me,
for leaving me all alone,
and for ignoring me.
I forgive you
Because hating you hurts.
The memories are like anchor holding me back
Thinking about you.
That time just makes my
Wounds sore,
Brain bruise,
Heart heavy
and the poison in my veins
is hurting me.
So I forgive you.
I know the poison will leave slowly,
so I forgive you to heal me.
I’ll let go of the grudges
To find peace.

You were lying,
I was believing.
You were deceiving,
I was trusting.
You were pretending,
I was loving.
You were manipulating,
I was falling.

Mothers. Possibly one of the significant contributors of the phrase “Empowered Women, Empower Women.” They overcome adversities, challenge social norms and break down barriers – rising and raising their child with them.

They plant flowers in the garden of their children, so they can bloom. They pour love out like a waterfall and nurture those who drink from it. They enflame hearts with compassion. They orchestrate and create harmony amongst their children creating a beautiful symphony. They pave roads and liberate. They voice out and amplify the ones of their own.

Here is to their depths of love that supports and caresses. To their cheers that uplifts. To how they raise and confront the world. To their softness. To their boldness. To their resilience. To their sacrifices. To them bringing out the best in us.

Here is to their ability to create an insurmountable power that only grows. Here is to them to being driven and passionate in their own authentic way. To them carrying out their integrity. To them setting examples, aspiring us to emulate.

To the ones who give birth, adopt, educate and raise. To the ones who devote their lives to their families care, to the ones who balance. Here is to them creating ripples carried over generation. To them shaping us and thereby shaping the world after them.

I didn't realize,
how easily I believed you
and let you break me.

You convinced me,
my beauty was ugly,
my strengths were my weakness,
my pride was my shame
and that I was inferior.

You made me believe,
a reality which was hurting me,
and I accepted what you made
me believe.

Aching void,
what do you crave?
What will satisfy
the emptiness that expands
and throbs?

I try to defy my mental block,
I scrape my head,
becoming harsher on myself
as I force emotions to be penned
into words.
But all what comes is
incoherent, inadequate,
dots and strokes.

The words are fleeting,
they've lost their meaning.
Out of synch,
out of thought,
out of ink.

Writer's block,
is where I sink.

Being with you
Blurs boundaries
Withers innocence
Suppresses guilt
Rages darkness
Till wrong does not seem wrong no more

Technology created for mass connection
Makes me lose my ability to interact
Immersing me in cyber sea
Leaving me detached from reality.

It makes me connected to the world online
But divides me from reality
It makes me click click
Tap tap
And scroll my life away.

When she is hurt,
her anger acts as her defence.

You came as hesitant hellos
and left as sudden goodbyes.

You came as happiness,
but left as sadness.

You came as love,
but left as heartbreaks.

You came as memories,
but left as lessons.

You came as fire,
but left as ashes.

You came as courage,
but left as fears.

You came as trust,
but left as doubts.

You came as summer,
but left as winter.

You came as spring,
but left as autumn.

You came as a breeze,
but left as a hurricane.

You came as tranquility,
but left as chaos.

You came as the moon,
but left as the shadows.

You came as a mystery,
but left with just history.

You came as a person,
but left as a poem.

My dreams are heavy,
that I often wake up
gasping for air.

My dreams are dark,
etched with loss and heartaches
that I wake up searching
for happiness.

My dreams feel real,
that I often **** up
trying to soak in reality
when emotionally and mentally
I feel the residue of the trauma
of being dragged through those lands.

What is security?
For I never felt it
in the love of others
and in my own fibers and cells.

“If you want to talk about it, I am here for you. Just like old times or new times, I don’t know. But I am here for you.” Cancerous words he spilled onto the screen, for they just multiplied the happiness that now sparked within her. Brewing hope and burning her eyes with emotions that flowed her eyes, leaving her mind fuzzy with joy. They finally opened their hearts to one another; a raw, vulnerable, authentic conversation after years. It was a conversation where she was drowned in the most beautiful-devastating of ways. A conversation she never wanted to end for the words seemed infinite and emotions seemed everlasting. She held onto this moment as perfect as it was as her eyes slid go sleep.

Ferocity has burnt away,
all what remains are embers
fading and diffusing 
wth sorrow cascading 
down my cheek.

You met my concern with ignorance
and walked away in silence,
leaving me to lament over the coming days 
as I plunge into the dark abyss
unexplained.

Your leave,
****** the warmth
leaving me to gaze upon the horizons of loneliness
and the stars that now grow cold.

The night bleeds into morning, 
The sun dissolves the moon.
As I ache at the page in front of me
and at the vulnerability I showed you.

Every morning,
it takes a monumental effort to peel off myself from the bed
fighting gravity to sit up
as I become the ghost 
of different thoughts that run through me.

Hope is still ruffling its feather
and the bond remains stagnant, 
But I am too tired to stay,
too broken to cry.

So I pinch my fingers 
on something beautiful within
a star dripping with black infinity;
a hope to care for myself
to healing and to move on.

My mind makes me believe something
other than my reality.
I am surrounded by loved ones,
Yet I feel so unloved.
I deserve to be happy,
yet I am convinced otherwise.
You see these chemicals in my brain,
the thoughts that are generated
make me believe and feel
everything other than my reality.

Once upon a time
I was sweet, soft and bright
Now I am dry, hard and dark
When did I stop looking at the sky,
chasing the warm sensuality
and start slouching to the ground.

Hue and texture are no longer the same,
my thorns have been magnified
with the petals of my love
crumbled and withered away.
I am no longer the same.

She was a sweet chaos
hiding behind a delicate rose.

I feel the ebbing flow
of venomous pain in my veins.
I feel the thoughts like bullets to my brain,
the emotions crashing down like turbulent waves.
I see the scars
rawer than before.
So here I am,
listening to music
louder than before.
Painting my heart
with more colors than before,
because it all hurts more than before.

In the end,
she became more than she expected.
She became the journey,
a never ending journey.
For she did not end,
but simply changed directions
and kept going.

As I awake from the cryogenic slumber I was put in, I find myself walking around a mansion. It must be a century into the future, but everyone still seems to be asleep in their pods.

As I walk around, my feet guide me through a tunnel lit by hanging candelabras, as though they have a life of their own. Few moments later, I find myself standing in front of a of a jagged wooden door with tiny bugs crawling up the dented-scratches and a loose door **** awaiting to be opened to the library that stretches far and wide.

The windows are tinted vintage yellow and air stenched with the musty smell of worn books; heavied with dust. The large maghony table stands alongside the ladders and railings, allowing access to the different levels of the library.

My hand reaches out for a leather-bounded book, as though it was longing to be read and plucked from the ornately carved bookshelf. It is my biography; my breathings worded and memories penned.

Stunned, I ran my fingers along the frayed pages, to find the stories of every person to have crossed paths with stretched out across the pages.

I re-read pages, letting the wordy essence cling to my skin and the embers to re-ignite. I allowed myself to taste the salt and sugar of the sunrise to sunset span with the ones who left inky footprints across my heart. Until I came across a name that started resurfacing from the dustiest parts of my mind.

Out of curiosity I reach out to the protruding mark to find myself holding her biography, and countless pages stained with my name. “I sat there tossing sorrows from one hand to another, trying to let the blue ink gush onto the page in front. I could feel the darkness coaxing my mind, labeling me with names as I held back the tears stinging my eyes. I was an invisible cloak; an outcast who was unwanted.

But then she came, each step paced with confidence. Her curls leaked sunshine into the room; I could feel it warming the cold that layered me. I found her seating herself near me, as the girls behind me laughed like a pack of hyenas, gossiping about the new faces entering.

I found her looming above me, her hair brushing against my forehead “Wow, has anyone told you write really well?” but all I could manage was a shy smile in comparison to her gleaming grin that swallowed her cheeks whole. That was the first time I heard someone say that and then there was something warm, fuzzy, a spark? Happiness? Hope? It felt foreign and different, almost energetic but I craved more.

In the coming days I watched as she drove herself with passion, reaching out to catch stars, blooming herself and handing it to others. She was alive and vibrant. Almost brilliant like lightning, enlightening the sky with her spark like the one that was fuzzing between my cells.

Her presence was alluring, I found myself responding to her wavelengths, wanting to resonate with it; to have purpose, meaning and life. She made me want to untangle myself from the toxic relationships I had. It made me want to stop drinking the poison they fed me. It made me want to crave for good. To nourish my body and to breathe.

She called me on my birthday; no one ever called me on my birthday. The next day she hugged me and turned my hurricanes to a whiff. Weeks after that she invites me to her birthday, pulling me away from my world as I accepted her hand paving paths for me to explore.
I flicked a few grainy pages ahead.

“Are you okay?” She said as she though she could smell the stench of it on me. As though she could see me drowning within myself. And in that moment I let her in, I broke the walls, I let them crash. I let the ocean erupt open through my pores. I let my rusty voice box to voice its cries. Even though I spoke in language that came natural to me; chaos. But she sat there listening patiently, and in that moment I wrote about how her ears were made of empathy, eyes of moonlight that made me feel lighter and blissed.

I watched her move with such zeal that I was mesmerized. She became my muse, my inspiration. So I undressed myself of self-loathing and set out to talk to people and explore. My bruised throat ringed and my chewed tongue wanted to speak. My hands wanted to write for my younger self that stayed quite all this time.

She breathed air into my collapsing lungs, became the brightest of hues in the world of my blues. I was a dead language and she pronounced me with life.

Here I am, a writer. All because of that compliment that left me to weave my sorrows, revertebratating the hope she gave me through my writing. Hoping to provide the same inspiration and passion she inspired me with. She restored the courage in my spine; the faith in my cells and the love into my heart that I tucked safely into inky words hoping someday someone feels the same.

I closed the book as I traced the last line, with a tear in my eye. How could’ve my trivial action have such a profound affect?

Here comes the friend who calls, to use me.
Here comes the friend who plans, to ditch me.
Here comes the friend who messages, to lie.

You don’t matter no more
For I no longer want be hurt any more.
So take your pain
that you wrap as presents,
Because I no longer want it no more.

Don’t you keep calling me babe any more
Don’t keep calling me your best friend any more
For it no longer means anything no more.

Because these words
are just labels that mean nothing anymore.

Nothing matters anymore
No one understand me no more
So leave me
Desert me
Lie to me
Ditch me
Use me
Betray me
It no longer matters to me anymore.

We were similar,
we still are.
We used to understand,
and support one another.
Stripping vulnerability,
over vulnerability.
Our friendship was deep,
our trust rung strong.

But then you grew thorns,
that would *****
when I would come near.

I just wished we helped
one another bloom rather
than let our insecurities
strive us to compete
as to who will bloom
better and faster.

She dresses in black,
smudging eyeliner on
her soft eyes.
Applying dark shades of lipstick
and leave her black hair to be caressed
by the ice cold wind.
She wears a cold attitude
and turns her kind heart
to stone, all to resonate intimidation
just to avoid being hurt.

There is a hole that exists within me,
no pain,
just a sunken hollow.
A constant emptiness
and a feeling of terrible,
terrifying loneliness.

My heart latches onto people,
sometimes even to the ones
who may not know my name.

I can create or feel
love and comfort from them.
I embed them into the figment
of my imagination,
for they are always there to stay.

But once their souls
leave my reality,
the figment starts to fade.

Once the feelings are no longer there
my heart,
my mind
become a sunken empty hole
waiting to be filled once more.

But people,
feelings are so temporary.
For the only fill was self love,
self acceptance,
and connection with god.

At times they were just plain words on paper
and at times they were expressive and powerful poetry.
At times it was paint spilled all over
and at times it was a masterpiece.
At times it was a stress
and at times it was a relief.

I guess
progress was never meant to be linear.
It was never meant to be all flow
without ebb.
It was never supposed to be all great and good,
but neither were these times supposed to have the power
to bring you down to give up,
because you feel it will never be good enough.

Lazy she may seem
But how does she explain she is hurting
She is wounded
Bruised
Energyless to do even the simplest of tasks
For she wants to be alone in her own world,
shut the world out
and write

These words written
are more understood and accepted
than the ones, I wear and speak.
My thoughts are tucked
safely in these words
than the ones I disclose to people.
My pen never
leaves
decieves
hurt
hide
and judge
like people do.
It just pours ink for me to craft
and offers paper for me to be listened.

It's 3 am,
everything feels like it's falling apart.
Self belief is fading,
heart is aching, mind is raging,
colors are fading,
self esteem is deteriorating,
and I am here expressing.

Writing to reunite the broken pieces
into words and art
so it feels like i am not break and falling apart.

Heartbreak and disappointment
dimmed by the laughter that escapes
and jokes that are made
letting me escape
the aching pain.

Forming a defence of
flowing endorphins  
preventing it from sinking deeper.
Although I am sure by night
I would be a weeper.

Which is alright,
pain and disappointments
are a part of life
there is no harm to feel,
to acknowledge to heal.

But one must not dwell
for it is a part of a
better plan that
awaits for ones fate.

It is true pain changes people.
But you know what pain also does;
it hurts you,
it breaks you,
it drains you,
it disconnects you from the
people around you at times.

It sometimes makes you feel
like giving up on your life.
But maybe that's just a phase.

Maybe we have to break to heal.
Maybe we have to fall to rise.
Maybe we give up to fight.
Maybe we have to make mistakes to learn.
Maybe we have to tear to be courageous.

Maybe we have to go through chaos to find peace.
Maybe we have to feel weak to be strong.
Maybe we have to get messed up before we step up.
Maybe going down was a part of the plan of rising
up once again better.

Pain brings out the worst,
the best and sometimes
it is just different.
And you get to choose
who you get to cast yourself as.

You get to pick up those pieces
and place them the way you want to be.
Sometimes it isn't bad, it isn't good,
it's just different.
And that's alright.

I watched her muscle pace with confidence,
her brain slip her tongue
and her skin glow.

She was much more pretty
intelligent
stronger, smarter
better in any way I was.

In her presence,
my flaws started to pile
Insecurities started to rile
fear started to snare
and jealousy started to flare
as self-doubt enwrapped me in its flames.

But my dear,
there was no good in tearing her down.
For prying on her weakness,
was not going to paint you into completeness.
Picking out her flaws,
wasn't going to bring about any applause.
Spreading rumors about her,
wasn't going to make you any popular.
Labeling her with names,
wasn't going to bring peace to your flames.

No, my dear
the answer lied
in your flesh
your tongue
your story
your lines
your curves
your passions.
The answer lied in the very acceptance of yourself.

For that's when you will find intimidation
to be wiped with inspiration.
That's when you'll realize your rivals were never your rivals
but your allies, tribe, and companions.

So compliment,
encourage,
nurture,
love
and support yourself
and the woman around you.

Enflame hearts of others,
build one another
embrace them with understanding
and enchant their soul with compassion.

Unshackle yourself and unshackle them.
Learn from them,
applaud them,
bring out the best in them
and surround yourself with women who do the same.

Because my dear,
this is the time you'll realize how blessed you are to be surrounded by such strong, resilient and inspiring woman
who help you move forward.