the sound of silence
ironically, can be deafening
the dead of night
a lamp is on
the cars **** past
on streets with crunchy snow
the crickets chirp
an owl goes hoot

but everything is still
albeit all inanimate
well, i suppose
the wifi router dot does blink
and the little hand on the clock
it doesn't tick, a modern kind
just rotates and keeps the time

the cats asleep
no padding paws
but the crickets chirp
and the cars **** past
its not dead silence

whatever it is
its deafening.

when i was young
ammi packed me lunch
one strawberry jam sandwich
cut neatly into squares

as i grew older
and my tummy much bigger
(along with my appetite)
one turned into two
two to three
and finally
for some unknown reason
there were no strawberry jam sandwiches
but ammi still packed me lunch

it was tuna or chicken
maybe tomato and cheese
sometimes a pastry
i wasn't hard to please

and it never occurred to me
that my strawberry sandwiches
were gone

till one completely random day
i'm sitting with my friends
taking the first bite of my sandwich
a burst of strawberry fills my mouth
sweet, rich with sugar
it tastes red, good bright red
my strawberry jam sandwich came back
and i was bombarded by my childhood
playing on the swings sandwich in hand
red coated crumbs dotting my shirt
running out of class as soon as the bell rings
to munch munch munch
on my strawberry sandwiches

strawberry jam was never my favourite filling
but it filled me with memories
so occasionlly
when i'm feeling nostalgic
i'll pick up a slice, butter it up
spread my gooey, red friend
and share a sandwich with ammi.

there’s no such thing as
‘No time’
in reality,
there’s no such thing as time
and here we are
heeding it’s every move
praying for more
cursing too much
impatient to wait
eager for arrival

will man ever be content?

only time will tell.

his eyes are warm, a hazel brown
upon his head the devil’s crown
hell's fire reveals his true intention
it's why the lord refused his ascension
his lust it flickers, a candle in the storm
mine burns for him, undying, unnerving
he doesn't love me
he never will
but oh he's a man when he grips my thigh
he spreads me open and makes me sigh
asserting dominance he whispers sin
i cry for god but my voice runs thin
he's had his ***** way with me
I'm tainted, ruined, marked and done
he's finished with me, had his fun
yet
sometimes in my wildest dreams
I yearn for him and that wicked gleam.

let me teach you
how to dance
to the song that is my heartbeat

first; lay your head upon my chest
stay silent, unmoving, hold your breathe
nothing?
no, there it is
steady, unyeilding, comforting
but as I feel you slowly exhale
it’s tempo accelerates
of course you induce that
‘butterflies in my stomach’ effect
if I was talking, I would’ve stuttered
as your fingers absentmindedly
drew patterns on my wrists
i could feel the hairs rising
my body calling out to your touch
gentle, calming, peaceful
and when I peak at you
your eyes are closed, relaxed
savouring the moment
our pulses meld together
and dance a tranquil tango.

i use poetry to describe
a vast array of things
but
it has occurred to me
there are no individual words
i could possibly string together
to illustrate you.

it’s too early
to fall in love

not because i’m only 19
but it’s only 8 am

you
you who are so strong
mentally and physically
the one who never wavers
who is always confident, secure

you who are ready to face
any given situation
or problem that is thrown at you
mature and relentless

you who are human
words affect you, hurt you

you who feels pain
sadness and sorrow

you who is crying
as your tears fall
upon these pages
remember

you are precious, loved and an inspiration

you who deserves the best and yet receives
the worst hand

this is for you, because in all that you are
i love you.