maybe we like to write about nature
because there is a hidden longing
to be in harmony with it again.

tonight there will be a storm
listen to my pages raging
with all the anger
i've culminated inside
i will no longer be satisfied with silence.

Eighteen years have passed me
I still marvel at picturesque clouds
They pass us overhead, with grace, like the ground they face isn’t rotten.

Find me that girl who smiles every day
Exchanging her three am thoughts
Into golden plated words that are beautiful
They belong in her poems.
Sadness stained cheeks covered in blush
She’s so lovely, people think
but she’s just glad her mascara is waterproof.

My grandmother has dainty hands, unlike mine
and I was jealous.
until I realized that they were covered in blood
years before I was born and knew what pain was,
making a living and treating her blisters at the same time.
Six children but it used to be eight before two passed away
“Sofian, he died before your grandfather by a few years”
Her heart broken in half and tears encrusted in her skin
But she still has delicate and pretty hands right?

People say they love one another,
But I can’t even count the knives on their backs anymore,
There are too many.

When I find myself in solitude,
I subsequently lose myself in thought.

You know,
I am ashamed.
These angels that watch us every day
I know they weep at our state
And I am done pretending it’s fine.

This is a world where the ground shakes in anger,
The sky cries out of despair
And the air thickens out of confusion
I am all of nature’s catastrophies
In the shape of a woman.

You will see me in the corner
Praying for lost souls
Including my own
Hoping that one day we’ll reunite in a place
Where words don’t drip blood
And authors find that writing is easier when happy
But for now, we can’t get enough of pretending.

Your silence brought indifference
and after that, I was never the same.
I had plans and poems
that revolved around you
but I will not lie
you have scorched my skin beyond repair
I cannot even recognise who I was before
your heart and mine beat near each other.

Whether you leave forever
or come back to me
my soul will yearn for the one that made me feel like
the universe was in my hands and spinning at only our pace
me and you
your voice and the waves fighting in my ears
both forces of nature that keep me wondering.

I'll be here waiting
for a month, for a year, and for eternity.

It had always been about you
my poems
my prose
my lips
and I should've known better.

my eyes were never ready for a fleeting sunset
that shone into them with splendour and magic
then drifted away into a far horizon
leaving me with my sombre reflection
the water looked so dark, inky and bleak
and my hands after that were drenched in black ink
i had slammed the pen so ******* this cursed journal
i thought that maybe, everything in my head would collapse with it

you were pretty but it never stopped at that
my name may have tasted like honey but you got sick of it
you got sick of me
you had a way with words that left me weak
all the strength i had culminated through the years stood no chance
like porcelain with intricate designs, fragile, timeless

now who will accompany me in the night
to plant our memories in stars on the sky?
or did you find another one to remind you of the taste of honey
the taste of love
the taste of promise

leave me now with the reality of frowns and uncertainty
leave me with the dark inky waters of a night once spent accompanied
one day i will lay your indifference to rest
but for now
let me throw it out to the horizon, to the sky, to the earth
so it can swallow it to nothingness.

I like words,
Words are nice,
But there is a price,
For too many words.