The pure taste so very sweet
On my bitter tongue

We take a shortcut
through the narrow walkways
of the old village

across the cobblestones
and by the white-washed tabby wall

to the waterside where slave ships
once plied their trade

My dog lingers nose down
as if each stone has a story to tell

and ***** an ear to the wall
where the auctions were held

She looks at people differently now.

AS THE TUNE OF TWO FEELINGS IN A DUET
WE DREAMT ALIKE
THE DREAM WAS
THE PAPER THAT CARRIED THE HANDWRITING OF THE FIRST RHYME
THE RHYME THAT BECAME THE COLOURFUL KITE
THE KITE THAT TAUGHT DANCE TO THE BREEZE
THE TWO OF US DREAMT ALIKE.....
THE COHESIVE LINK BETWEEN
THE WORD AND THE LINE
THE THREAD AND THE BOND
THE PATH AND THE JOURNEY
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
TWO OF US ARE DREAMING
DREAM IS A DUEL WITH NO RULES IN BETWEEN MIND AND HEART
TWO ARE DREAMING
ONE IS DREAMING AS THE SKY-LARK FLYING ON PUFFY CLOUDS
THE ANOTHER IS AS THE CAGED MEMORY
DREAM IS THE DUEL
NO ONE WINS AND NO ONE LOOSES
* * * * * * * * * *
WHAT FOR IS THIS ARENA OF NIGHT?
IF THE PUNCH OF DREAM IS NOT TASTED?

The ability to recreate every moment you live and
imbue it with something as unique as "you" itself...

The cold mouth of the bottle
never told me it loved me,
but, it never told me it hated me neither.
It never spouted a geyser of derision
designed to drown my heart,
and brow beat me into submission.
It  never caressed my cheek,
a second before trying to scratch out my eyes.
It never called the lone declaration of my affection
a pack of halfassed lies.
It might **** me one day,
suffocate my brain, and perforate my liver...
But, the bottle never told me it loved me,
before trying to destroy me.

I’m learning how to see
What it means to be alone and not lonely
Trapped in the worries of my mind
Nobody safe to turn and find
I look at eyes in the crowd
Wish I could hear their thoughts out loud
What’s going on inside
Is there anyone who can stand by my side
Take away the holes in the dance floor
And still be something of which I can be sure
I can feel his presence like ghost
And it’s the thing I want the most

Darkness seeps between my fingertips
Even when my hands are clutched to my face as tightly as I can when I am crying alone
Fingernails digging into my skin
To remind myself that it is real
Sleeves pulled over my fingertips
So no one is forced to see the hideous things
Especially me
The way a murderer's mother shuts her son's old bedroom door at night when he has been jailed
To shut out the memories
Concealing what is unpleasant
At night I don't wear makeup
So when I wake up at 2AM to use the washroom
I keep the lights off
And fumble blindly through the black air to find the door handle
So I don't have to look at myself
It's getting worse everyday
A new kind of pain
And I don't understand
Why it hurts so much
But I think I'm going to stop telling people about it
I'm going to stop mentioning it no matter how much it hurts
I'm going to stop being self-deprecating in public
Because it just comes across vain, self-pitying, annoying, attention-seeking and fake
I want people to stop telling me I'm pretty
I want them to stop lying to me
Even if it just to spare my feelings
So I will stop putting them in situations
Where they must lie to me to be polite
I'm just going to be silent now
They already have to know how ugly I am on the outside
No one needs to know
What an ugly mind I have

When you see pain in the eyes
Look at the stars high above
Winking at you in anticipation
Piercing the darkness around them
they burn bright all the time
Little jewels adorn your soul
for you need to look in the darkness
and wink back at the stars
And you found your way
across the dark patches of life
with the help of the stars