I don't understand
why are we concealing our heaviness
our heartaches
our blues
behind laughter.
Packaging them as humor
and art with a ribbon on top
when it's dark raw and pain
I don't understand
why we aren't talking about it.
Because it is just becoming worse
for you, I everyone.

“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.

Why do you give your heart
to the ones who carelessly drop them?

Why do you give your heart
to the ones who engrave their name,
scaring it with memories
and then leave it deserted?

Why do you give your happiness
to the ones who leech it out of your life?

Why do you root yourself into their
hearts, intertwining with them emotionally so quickly?

You know better than
to let them wound you.

But I don't know who they
are unless I give them.

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.

Hiding emotionally,
physically avoiding,
and verbally masking by lies.

We pretend that we are alright,
turning it all invisible
In the eyes of one other,  
so that we don’t let the worry flow,
so that we don’t let the disappointment brew.
But it flows into the ears of others.

Leaning on their shoulders for comfort,
where comfortability now thrives.
We now look in the eyes
of one another
with body containing secrets,
pretending to be alright
and happy.

I guess,
that’s where the trust started to wither
and comfortability started to fade,
for we found comfort on others shoulders.

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.

Everything happens for a reason,
one of the important lesson I learnt with the change in season
and people.

Some moments hurt, scar and engrave
an important lesson.
Protecting you from future treason
Making you deal with it even better.
Some moments exhilarate happiness and positivity
Fueling you with love and treasuring the memories.

Some people come as blessings
Building homes in our hearts;
Helping us sail turbulent waves;
Acting as starlights in our dark sky.
While some leave us lessons
Vacating their homes in our hearts.

Twist is some, come back
and some only stay a flashback.
Some are are sent for exile
and some come back to reconcile.
People come and go.
Some drawing a smile on our face;
creating a beautiful and positive impact.
But leave for certain reasons,
To those people I am thankful,
to have had my paths cross with them.
And grateful to the ones who’s chaos and storms,
I survived and bloomed from.
Not forgetting about the ones who stayed
even when some left,
Appreciating them for still standing by my side till the very end.

It was more than falling for your appearance
It was about the thoughts
that ran through your mind
It was about the love
that every cell of mine felt
It was about the words
that made you, you
Drowning me in the depths of who you are
It was about your soul
that made every nerve spark
Falling in love with you was inevitable;
Even though I was only a few chapters in.

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

“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

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

I am tired of
the constant cycle of
aching and faking,
hurting and feeling,
breaking and healing,
fixing and mending,
It's like a never ending cycle,
and I am just tired.

Seeing the good in people
was her virtue
and her downfall.

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

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?"

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.

In the ocean, when I sink
Pull me up, but not out
Let me learn how to swim,
stay with me patiently
till our skin wrinkles.

On the battlefield,
let me fight,
for I don’t need a knight in shining armor to save me,
but an army to fight along with me.

Let me explore the depths of the ocean and cave,
Let me see the shades of emotions;
from dawn to dusk that reflects on the sky.

Let me sway with the breeze
and sail turbulent waves.
let me be, but don’t let me go.

“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.

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.

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

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

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?

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.

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

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

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.

“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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

Your tone was like a blade,
that skimmed her skin.
Your words had cut deep,
stabbed her heart;
scarred her soul
and embedded itself into her memory,
playing like a loop in her head.
For your words are now ghosts that hunt her
in the darkest of times,
making her sweat smell like terror.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Your vision was the blend of cultures,
welcoming them onto the progressing lands
as if it was there own.
Your passion of justice extinguished every fire
and your endless kindness
diminished hunger of the starving
and quenched those thirsty.
Your heart was vast
and character so true and principled
that hoped to strengthen and empower the youth
to achieve its best
so your essence carries on
for you have risen to great heights
and news of you have spread.

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.

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.

Writers,
poets,
artists,
songwriters
bleed pain into art.

But don'y you understand
pain is not art.
They embellish pain,
to cement the heartache.
They craft darkness
hoping to enlighten.

But in the end,
agony is agony,
no matter how you express,
how you make it bleed.

Emotions from words,
on tear stained pages
captivate readers
making them believe there
is solace in darkness
and leave them forlorn to be adorned.

But their intention was not to
glamorize plan but rather to let it be
their outlet of expression,
therapy and to create.

In the end there is no substitute,
agony is agony,
grief is grief,
illness is illness
and that what it will be.

She stared with blazing fiery eyes
teeth sharper than blade itself
words sinking far more into the flesh,
piercing the heart.

How surprising
for those same eyes were once soft,
affectionate, compassionate and innocent.
Those teeth used to pull into a content smile,
words ever so gentle and kind
exist no more.

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.

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.