In physics today,
we learnt about
the Limit of
Proportionality.
Beyond that point
something stretched
remains like that.
Stretched.

I think my
heart
has finally reached
those coordinates.
Its scarred
permanently.
Beyond repair.

Sure
I fix it
with glue and love,
I fix it.
And each time it
falls,
It breaks again.

Its naïve. It's young.
It's broken.
Its more pain than love.
Somedays it just
stops working.
It gives up.

But my heart
has learned to
fight.

It's got a shield
of indifference.
A chainmail of hate.
It's iron and stone.

But its caged
that way
Can't live that way.
So I let it be.
I let it go.

Some days, it doesnt
belong to me.
But it comes back
eventually.
Because my heart love me the most.

Love is Temporary, kid.
Forever doesnt exist.
                                 ______
The skies have opened up tonight.
Its raining.
Finally somebody understands.
my heart cries with the clouds
And Ive finally run out of glue.

You smell like riptides upon a fathomless sea, elusive waves that never cross, beckoning me closer.

You smell of exotic beaches on travel catalogues; the ones unexplored, untouched, unique. The ones not treaded upon, inviting and innocent.

You smell like the lighthouses on deserted rocks, leading me home, guiding me safely to shore and to you, slighting the storms; unwavering, trustworthy.

You smell like the seaside of my childhood; familiar, nostalgic, the ones I can traverse with my eyes closed. Land I trust and know like the back of our hands entwined.

                       You smell like salt and the ocean
                          Love upon the unending sea
                    Scents of cinnamon, fire, setting suns
                          You smell like home to me.

dont walk away from me saying i deserve better


'we accept the love we think we deserve'

your love was like the
new moon (you swore it was there
but i couldn’t  feel it)

you were the treasure
   at the end of the rainbow.
      The rainbow dispelling hope after the storm.
            The storm that quenched the drought.
               the drought that birthed the thirst.
                  The thirst that craved a companion.
                     The companion who led the way.
                        The way that never was.

Its just us against the World.

Okay okay okay
I admit it
I’m jealous

Of the sun’s rays
That kiss your face
Before I ever can.

Of the tissues that wipe away
Your tears gently, the way
I never can.

Of the mirror that  glimpses
Shadows of doubt; your eclipses
That I’ll never see.

Of the ones that bring a smile
To your lips, someone I’ll
Never be.

"you were a parade of red flags but I screamed colour blind from the rooftops.
you see,
scarlet is the colour of both love and betrayal."

the last time you kissed me
you had a throat allergy
(I caught it)
It pains each time I swallow
and so I can say for sure
every breath I take
whispers your name to me

I was your Venus when you were  my Sun,
Pulling me closer just to watch me burn.

the colour of betrayal far outshines Vantablack
its depth is a cumulus cloud of chaos and agony
tinged with the wails of a wilting wallflower
bloodied scarlet, a glimmer of unrequited love
purple promises writ into skin, bruised and broken

love is painful. love is endless waiting for someone to turn back when you too, are walking away. or trying, at least. but what is relief without knowing how pain chokes your breath?

love doesn't know what he wants.
love is confusion and a pendulum of emotions. Love doesn't want to hurt people, but when it comes to me, love forgets that my heart bleeds too.

is love unrequited? maybe. maybe I don't want to accept it. maybe love loves someone else's smile now. maybe love's heart doesn't drop when he sees me in class, maybe love ignores what his heart is whispering.

maybe love will see this and relive his scrapbook of us. maybe love will confront the right people. or maybe he will scroll past this.

unrequited love is painful, but being drawn in and left is **** near-apocalyptic. if nothing else, we made good breakup poetry.

maybe love lacks courage. maybe that's an easier excuse for me to accept. it is far easier to imagine a heart that cowers from the truth rather than one whose truth I don't recognise. is it time to walk away without looking back? I just want to lie to myself tonight. but then again, can you blame me?

his voice, honey-coated ballads

his frame; a haiku
three lines and one more

in how i’m (homeward) bound
wrapped in cloth,
hardcover edition
laced with fingerprints,

is it in the spine? cracked but unwavering
perhaps the torn pages, underlines
is it in the softness of the papyrus?
or edges; cuts earned in haste.

in how my back is a yellowed loan card
tattooed by those who have held me temporarily
signed, dated.

but my first page, reserved -
in how i  am addressed ‘to you’
a labor of love
branded,
belonginghood
birth right

Is it in how  i am all bark
no bite
451 degrees
Fahrenheit
numbered pages
infinite
all leaves (of absences)
the vessel of a hero’s journey.

in how i was birthed from something alive
something with roots
foreign, far from here
in how i came from earth, and
to her i shall return.

in how i will be shelved away, margin(alised)
in how i will degrade,
or rather, be degraded (by those who put me down after one chapter)
is it in how most dont venture past my cover?
(i’m learning to be ok with that)

in how i come alive at your touch, restoration
how my words dance off
the pages when i’m looked at
euphor

in how i cease to exist when i’m
passed over
in how i burn
golden
accidental
alexandria.

time will grain your polaroids
and bury your touch
unloving you