my sister thought my mother
had died on her lap;
she walked to the bathroom
inside that depthless hospital hotel.

the putrid smell of life and death
all through-out this concrete heaven
and hell.

at the age of fifty-four
my mother's bones would
carry no more weight.

her gentle heart
her forgiving mind
her words so strong

but mine,
they are forced out
by constricted wind-pipes
and angry words

i glanced down at the cot, where my mother died
as I made contact with my mother's pale-blue eyes
she looked at me with the most helpless,
childish face I've ever seen.
as if to say:
"he isn't here.. where is he...
where could he be?"

she lived thirty more minutes.

he arrived a few hours later, asking:
"how's she doin'?"

never take for granted,
someone's borrowed time.

someone once said that if you love something,
you should set it free.
as if this is something done so easily.


they could have explained a little about
the tide of chilly, bittersweet memories
that greet me every morning
making my socks wet all day

01:52 am
have you ever asked yourself like why you so lonely?*

01:53 am
or empty?

that maybe you give too much of your essence to people and never leave any of you for yourself

01:55 am
i know i do

02:05 am
and like that's maybe why i get so attached to humans

because in them,
i find myself

02:07 am
i need to change, because things shouldn't be this way

02:10 am
but it's hard sometimes you know, when most days you don't leave the house because you feel unworthy of the space you take up

02:16 am
so you'd much rather disintegrate into soil because you've become all too familiar with people stepping over you and admiring the outcome of your beauty but never the roots of your pain

02:19 am
i spend so much effort watering people in order for them to grow and hardly get enough sun shine to feed my own soul

02:25 am*
because i don't know how to do anything else but care for everyone but myself

12 | 31 Poems for August

I prayed to God and humbly thanked Him for your existence.
Even though I barely say much, I know He’s always listening.
No matter what you say or do, I’ll always remain in love with you.
All I want to do is show you the world’s panoramic view.
I’ve been blessed with the chance to love you.
I guess dreams do really come true.
Love, I’m bad at this beautiful thing people call love.
Listen, your complexion is truly a blessing.
I want the beauty of God manifested in all we do.
I’m fighting for our love, I wish you would too.
I’m fighting for our love, I can’t do this all alone.
I’m still learning how to love, I can’t do this on my own.
No matter what you say or do, I’ll always remain in love with you.
All I want to do is show you the world’s panoramic view.
I have gradually let my guard down for you.
In due time I hope you’ll do the same too.

8 | 31 Poems for August

When I’m flooded with echoes of silence, my actions will slowly begin to speak.
Sometimes I cannot explain how you constantly have me feeling weak.
Loving you is a feeling I cannot control or put into any form of speech.
You’re always on my mind whether you’re by my side or not.
Nothing is more beautiful than the love that lies within.
Nothing is more beautiful than the poetry my hands have written on your skin.
Nothing is more beautiful than touching you, kissing you and loving you.
I cannot control nor explain loving you the way I do.
Distance and time will never dissipate our memories, I will always want to be next to you.
Know that this love will carry us into the future no matter what we go through.
Nothing is more beautiful than the love that lies within.
Nothing is more beautiful than the poetry my hands have written on your skin.

7 | 31 Poems for August 

I haven’t been answering any of your texts or calls.
I needed some time alone, I know it has been a while.
It has been a while since you’ve heard me laugh or seen me smile.
I’m a mess, lately I’ve been feeling really stressed and depressed.
The things I’m holding back are things that need to be expressed.
I’m a mess, I need to get all this pain off my chest.
I don’t know who to run to or who to run from.
Or if I should be running at all.
If I’m willing to talk, will you listen like you always do?
We take life for granted knowing very well that tomorrow is not guaranteed.
I’m praying and hoping that someday I’ll be someone that they need.
I write to write, put the pen to paper and then I let it all bleed.
I never believed in people like you before but that was until I met you.
Vibe with me, pour a glass of wine and spend some time with me.
I promise that you’ll get blown away like autumn leaves on a windy street.
Breathe, breathe and listen to the echoes of your heartbeat.
That’s what it feels like to be free.
That’s what it feels like to vibe with me.

The girl in the mirror

Who is she?
The girl in the mirror,
I don't recognise her anymore,
Sometimes she looks at the distance,
Her ghostly looks
Send through me a shiver,
Her lips move
But I can't hear a word she utters

And then she zeroes in on me again
Her eyes go vacant,
Her  face goes grave
And I realise
She is no longer there,
Just a ghost
A shadow
Of who she once was
Still haunting
The body she used to dwell in

A heart
Forced to beat.
Who stole the light in those eyes?
Her face looks familiar,
Yet so estranged.

I take a step towards her,
She does too.
I move my hand,
And she follows
The realisation came,
The girl In the mirror,
Is no one else
But myself.
Dark circles,
Creating a contrast against her pale skin
It is so hard to look
At the jagged cuts all across her thighs.
Who would ever be gentle
Across her jagged cuts?
Who would pull her up,
From the midnight thoughts she has been sinking in
Farther and farther?
Who else,
If not she, herself?

She is the anchor
Weighing her wings down,
But she also has the power of wind
That won't be bound.
She is sunshine and darkness both,
In her own world
And she must and she will learn
How to balance the colors
To create a perfect picture


So tonight is the time
To fall in love with the girl in the mirror
Oh yes,
The girl in the mirror
Found herself,
The girl in thr mirror
Stopped looking for help.

she realised
Perfection is perceptional
And not itself perfect.

Beware of her,
For you have not seen her best yet.
One day she will show the world the
Art she carries within herself.

Introduction
There they stood; keeping silent company.
Yet of His face, wept searing electricity.

To the lovers of life*
Here they stand, keeping silent company.
No utterance dealt; yet clear in both their minds
A single, brilliant truth:

He longs for her with a savage delight.
And it cries from every fibre, exalting!
It is in the bearing of his eye;
Rifling through her tender flesh
In search of what he knows, from voices ages old, is there:
That her heart will beat for no other as it beats for him right now;
That in this moment, their Souls are bared
To each other’s glares- naked, and blemished, and cowering-
Yet his eyes remain fixed and sure:

And for this, she loves him.

For they have seen each other for the First of Times,
Truly! And as with many the Ancient Laws unfurled,
They stand aware, in lack of ever being taught,
Aware with every atom, every straining tendon tight
That their time's so very short.

And so they drink… wordless
To each other, to their youth, and to their bodies
Shining like never before in the noonday air
Garbed in cloth that snaps and furls around their waists.

They imbibe with electric eyes,
Eyes that are new born to this world of light
And come out screaming, living, and sensitive
For lack of ever being touched.
They revel in their new-found joy;
Pouring from Her figure,
Of Her sleek, supple waist and the arch of her back,
Bristling with delight,
Of His strong hands and easy smile,
That spoke of laughter scattered
Across countless campfires of summers past.

Their light does burn intense as any fire,
And when their brimming anticipation
Overspills its crimson chalice
The silence shall SHATTER.
To find peace again in each other's arms.
Fumbling in sweet darkness-

Of heavy lids, of earthy flesh,
With lips embraced...

In ravenous finality.

a momentary lapse of thought:
staccato thuds sounded by a hollow heart
upon the realisation that the clarity of 'best friends'
becomes muddled
and confused with the passing of time.

hearts become restless:
heads are filled with shinier thoughts
as the people once loved are replaced. we recreate ourselves
worlds away
from the ones to whom we once gave our soul.

the silence of an evening punctuated
by memories of our faded selves
they watch us as we blindly dance
to the symphony of their sighs.