You exist to be written and
spoken about in poetry.

poem after poem
i break
and my words don't make sense
not anymore
not here
not in your mouth
or mine
broken english, is that what it's called?
whatever it is
it's making me bleed from the inside

poem after poem,
I break

If our souls were oceans,
how many divers would take the risk
to brush against the seabed,
an urge to discover the unknown,
or just someone to call home?

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.

The earth rejoices at the sound of laughter

as cries are heard too often.



Let these tears that fall

as a result of joy

be the water that helps flowers spring.

They will rise, towering over ants and rivers

from the dry, and dull ground

that has let sadness seep into its pores

a virus; taking life as its host.



We laugh to forget, and love

happiness emanating from our skin

our intentions alternating

like sun and moon.



Laughter is so beautiful,

seemingly abderian most of the time

it never fails to enrich the soul.



They say look for kindness in a man

but never forget to explore his humor.



Share laughs with your best friend,

they will make these memories last a lifetime.



Even those with melancholy waiting, hanging

from the corner of their lips

revel in the pleasures of the soul

and appreciate the sounds that the earth makes

to forget its troubles.

I.

The heart is clumsy,

our thoughts provoking disaster

when pulling on the wrong strings

before the storm, and after.

II.

You

and I,

encompass the sky

that hovers above us

holding clouds that serve purpose

to embellish or destroy

waiting for the wind

to mould us into strange shapes

tugging at others’ curiosity

not knowing what we are

or where we’re going.

III.

Muffled speech,

blinding weather in his eyes,

today we are not raining together

drop by drop

He falls and changes,

beauty into anger,

I await on a lonely ground

to catch him.

IV.

We exist in all shades,

unpredictable,

beautiful,

converging into one another

calming the anxious souls

that we transport to the heavens above.

V.

I watch the sun and moon alternate,

natural occurrences, I notice

just like the thoughts

that feel like clouds in my head

when my heart reminds me

of him

at an ungodly time of night

striking me like lightening,

thunder echoing between these ears

that long for the voice of an angel instead.