They say with age comes wisdom — 
Yet, I am now at the stage where I know less.
I have piqued and critiqued
Myself and others, to the point of illness,
Sublimating for acceptance,
serving and fighting for the rights of the masses,

But — 

Killing myself quietly;
Loving others and receiving stress
Oblivious in blindness.

Wide eyes now,
And on the eternal quest,
to love wholeheartedly, subjugating wild-brainless
And embracing my divine mess.

Hypnotise
My mind
I can't get a moments peace

Claim
My body
And you'll have me in time

Own
My soul
But every piece is broken

She was staying at the beach
Her room looked out on the boardwalk
The beach was beautiful
White sand
Turquoise water
Warm sun but not too hot
When the sun hit the water the reflection looked like shimmering diamonds

One night after dinner she sat on a bench
Facing the ocean
Watching the moon and sea do their dance together
The moon shone brightly down on the waves
Highlighting the white tips of the waves
As the moon continued to shine
The water seemed to move in an almost hypnotic way
Getting stronger and stronger
Drawing her to it

She was entranced
She could not pull herself away
Though time passed and it was time to go
She watched the dance of the moon and the sea as they spun their magic together

A vivid imagination
is good for the soul
It makes you funny,
makes you feel whole
Ideas on ideas
minute after minute,
Make believe so real
you feel like you're in it

I wasn’t born a poet,
but your silence turned into verses
in the pauses between your laughter
I never meant to memorize your face—
yet it lives behind every closed eyelid
tender as the hush before a kiss.

You wore the rain like a sari of stars
and when you looked back that one time
I forgot my name.
Your anklets were verses
my heart dared not write—
too sacred, too soft
too much like something I'd ruin
by touching.

I never knew love
until it sat beside me
on a red bicycle
hair flying
as if time could be outpaced
by innocence.

I never wrote a line before you
But now I write in the rhythm of your leaving
And every rhyme I never learned
now aches in the shape of you.

I wasn't a poet—
not until you looked at me
like I was worth remembering

And now when they ask me
why the moon feels closer
when I speak your name
I only smile and whisper—
"I am not a poet
But oh beautiful one
Ever since I saw you
I have started writing poetry."


Erennwrites

I often cannot sleep in the deep
of night these days of late
when whispers of your memories
Rustle the pages of my mind
Until the world feels up-side down
hobbling along on a single foot
epitomizes sensations of art
meant to be shared by you
so I pretend to write and paint
playing at art as a child playing at life
whether calling it “house” or “family”
matters not when none of the actors
live in these cards
If only we could re-draw
would I hold your love in my hand
in another round of life?