silence masks past pictures

of soft snowflakes

that lightly touched our skin

with the image of waves

kissing the snow covered sand



the gull cries dampened

by gusts of icy wind

that had bare trees

swaying with ache



I climbed atop a dark rock

and looked out at the peaking waves

only to discover goosebumps

upon my frail skin.

You are a wilted flower,
one that uses its tears to water itself.
But you are not growing, little one,
you are drowning.

Why, with the sun shining so brightly
and the earth grounding the others,
do you still feel so terribly
cold and shaky?

Your beauty does not trick me.
Sing me your woes,
there is no reward for trapping them between your roots.

let me be your garden

Father always preached-
Stay away from the drowning ones,
they will cling to you
as they cry for air.

But you are so quiet, little one.
Your silence is slowly translating
into the screams you have withheld
for so long.

Oh, you are too young
to be wilting so soon.
Tell me, little one,
when did you fall in love with the moon?

God is evil, mommy.

A mother,

shutting the gates to what could be a flood,

holds the hand of her innocent child.

It was not His fault,

she relayed to her daughter.

He is not evil.


Was she assuring the little one’s glimmer of hope

or trying to convince herself

that it was not His fault

that she was now leaving His world.

This symbol she has looked up to

in so many moments of despair-

Was this darkness

concocted by Him?


Who shall she turn to,

the hand of innocence

or the hand of trust?

But was it still trust?

Where does one go from there?


Inquisitive thoughts raced through her tired mind.

She let go of the tired one’s small hand

and bid her a good night’s rest

and kissed her on the forehead

as the little one was being escorted,

crying, and pleading…

the IV slowly dripped into her pulsing veins

as she took her last few breaths,

and instead of looking up to the stars,

she whispered to the girl,

I won’t let Him hurt you*

and with a hint of a smile,

the mother slipped into a deep,

deep slumber.

I lost my innocence the day I started to befriend people who have never had it.

I have let
my lustful mind forget
to administer the worries
that drip from my lips
and onto my hands,
where they seep
through my fingertips
and onto the ground,
which is where
all my vexing words
belonged all along.

And I have let
my little mouth
blabber for hours,
ranting about unrelated subjects
on unfamiliar ground.
These words are equitable in my mind,
but as they rest on my tongue,
I have realized
that they lack the only flavor
that society would be willing
to taste.

I have let
unrelenting consequence 
find me here,
for I am unable to control
what chaos
gushes from my mouth,
and onto my lips,
from which they just
drip.

I have let
myself repeat the most
engrossing words.
So forgive me in advance,
for I have let,
and I will forever let
my mind roam
without a leash.

But then again,
why restrain
what most crave for;
a mind with the ability
to review itself.
Well, no need to crave.
All you need to do is let,

and I have let.