"Talk to me
in poetry"
he said,
so I whispered
nothingness
through the quiet cold air
breathless
for he was my silent prayer
and I
just a pattern
in the chaos

they say
he must be lucky
the guy who gets to have me
and i just look in your eyes
and see the hell i have put you through
they fell in love w my words
but i wonder do they know
that this is not beautiful
all these words may make depression look pretty
but it is not
it is not easy to be w a girl
who wants to crawl into the tiniest space of you
and make her home there
it is not easy to be with a girl
who makes you her air
it is not easy to see her
cringe at her own reflection
it is not easy to love her
when all she has is hatred for her self
it is not easy to look at her
when you read her poems about how she wants to peel off her skin
till nothing of her remains
it is easy to say
he must be a lucky guy
lemme assure you
he is not
im not blushing cheeks and perfect smiles
Im not about classy looks and vintage dresses
im like the storm and the only way i know how to show my love is to destroy
it is not easy to talk to her
when she replies in proses and riddles
it is not easy to hold her
when one moment she is warm and cuddlable
and the next she is spitting fire
it is not easy to tolerate her
when one small mistake and
it has already been
carved as a poem
it is not easy to survive her intense gaze
it is not easy to look back into her eyes
when she is looking at you w too much emotions contained in her eyes
too strong for you to take
she is everything
or nothing
or both
at the same time
she is every shade of every color
simulataneously
Ill overwhelm you
or i can make you question your own existence
cause i dont know any other way
to love
than to make you my all
and to be your all
ill love you w a passion
you have never seen before
but can your feeble heart
take it?
do you think
your calculated actions and diplomatic decisions
will help you then?
you may be fooled by my smile
and my gentle voice in which i talk to you
but there is a lot to me
than what meets your eyes
there will always be more to me
than you ll know
and you may think it is easy to love me
but it is not
you are a dreamer, you are in love with the idea of me
while you remain oblivious of
all the stories behind the words i have not yet written
and the words you ll never see.
It is effortless to fall in love with a poem
but being with a poet is a totally different thing
don't you now agree?

In my mind, I break things.
I throw picture frames at walls
shatter the vase of wilting flowers
shove books out of their cases
rip apart their pages,
tear away their seams until they are back
to an incoherent soup of letters
and their well meaning themes and phrases
have become but what my life is,
poignant and pathetic.

There is nothing, no reaction.
I wreck havoc in my head
while I give a picture of composure
as you lecture me on how to live my life
when yours is nothing but in shambles.

In my mind,
I run away, take a train and live
to see brighter days.

It's one of those days,
where I remind myself not to let go yet.
But one of these days,
I'm walking out in to the sea and all you'll see
are the specks of gleaming water in the breeze.

this body of mine
is a sunken ship
wrecked and rusted,
seemingly nothing left to salvage;
this vessel can no longer float,
I know but,
the moss green coating these corroded limbs
a whole spectrum of colour peaking out from behind my curves
an ecosystem,
making a home of an empty frame
this body might be submerged in this unforgiving sea
but don't worry,
there is still life here.

I had to look up
the word
'dating'
on Urban Dictionary
because I didn't know
what we were,
what we are.

And it said things like
'a socially acceptable
form of prostitution' and
'feelings of
puppy love that usually
dissolve
in a few weeks'.

But this is
not
puppy love.
This is not going to
dissolve or
fizzle out or
whatever,
you're not a
fizzle
you're a *******
fireworks display.

And you turn
everything in my head
into this
multi-coloured
turbulence and
I can't keep up with
how much I
adore you.

But the thing is
I don't know
if your view
is as good as mine.
What if you're
looking at something
a little less
beautiful.

What if I'm your
fizzle.

What if I'm as
temporary
as the flame you use
to light the
cigarettes
you find more
addictive
than my touch.

If that's the case
I'd rather
I left you
craving.

Because
if I'm your flame
you're my
forest fire
and you're burning
it all down until
the only thing left
standing is
you.

And I'll walk for
miles across this
carpet of ashes
just to feel the
softness of your skin
against mine.

And I'll cough
and I'll splutter
on toxic smoke
but you'll just
breathe it in because
you never realised anything
was even
lost.

You don't see me
crawl
you just know that
I'm here,
I'm here
I made it
I'm yours
I'll always be yours
because there's
nothing else
left.

And maybe
I can be
content with that
if only
you will see
that
you could burn down
everything
and I still
wouldn't put you
out.

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

I was laying in your bed
waiting for you to come jump in
I put on some music, of course my favorite song
wondering what was taking you so long
finally you walk through the door
and I couldn't wait to kiss you more.
you slowly walk over, but instead of laying on your bed
you grabbed my hand instead.
you pulled me in close and we started to dance
which I swear to god, put me in a trance.
Our song came on and you whispered every word in my ear
soft enough for just me to hear.
Your hands on my hips, mine in your hair
that's when I knew, we had something rare.
We danced and danced, you spun me around and dipped me down
We were holding each other so close, as if we would never let go.
In those moments, we were infinite
I wish we had never finished.
When the song was over, you kissed my lips.
Oh god did you kiss my lips. you kissed me like you were suffocating and I was the only air you needed.
you picked me up and layed me on your bed.
you kissed my forehead and made your way to my neck.
You found my ear and whispered slowly "I'm in love with you."