I am the quiet poet
I draw my silk from
            the writhing aurora borealis
                        in the frozen sky
            and twist its ethereal light into dripping ink
            still wet on the page
You think you know me?
            you don't know me.

I am the serene night sky
                        and the boiling hot stars
I am the tempestuous seas
                        and the playful shallow shores
I am the relentless scorching desert
            and the soft smooth tides of sand

I was a prodigy, a freak
            I came into this world
with a pen in my pudgy little fingers
and a notebook clutched to my chest
I watch
as diamond rings fall like rain
onto the fourth fingers of my peers
            imprisoning them
but my female ancestors slew dragons
            I am free
            I will always be free
                        no man can handle me anyway

I am a captivated student
            of the authors and poets before me
books are my haven, my lovers, my dreams, my life
I am not human
Arms open, eyes shut, head to the sky
            I am but a channel
for the flow of the universe.

His "I love you" came swiftly.
Like the monsoon pouring down on a leaky roof
Those three words broke through my defences.
At first they were an ambrosia;
They sustained my life and our relationship.
At least for a short time.

Then "I love you" became an excuse;
For absences, and purpose-filled accidents.
And I ignored the warning signs, the flashing lights.
I pretended like "I love you" was enough...

...But it wasn't.
His "I love you"s were like band-aids on bullet wounds;
Like using play dough to fix cracks in concrete walls.
But I rationed our good memories,
I held on as tight as I could to our love
And watched as it slipped through my fingers.

His "I love you"s became poison,
That seeped deep into my bones,
And turned blue skies grey,
And turned light into darkness,
And slowly killed whatever semblance of love
I fooled myself into thinking we had left.

i want my poems to have teeth.  
i want my words to cut,
to maim, to bleed.
with verses, i will raze
empires. with stanzas,
i will turn thrones to dust.
with nothing but a bit
of silver on my tongue,
i will take the life of god.

i’ll ply that same *****
like honey, taste the sweet
nothings dripping
between knocking knees.
quake and quiver for me,
let me slip, furtive
as nightshade
to sate your curiosity.

feel the weight of veracity
in these fingers patiently
transcribing forgotten melodies,
compressing ivory keys
to sing of all that was lost
and what was gained
from the process.