Some people think
that they need love
to survive and yes
the comfort is
essential but most
times, you also
need to learn
to be okay
with being alone.

I believe in magic.
Not the kind of magic
that makes people disappear
or pulls out a bunny from a
non existence hat.
I believe in the
kind of magic that
sweeps you off your feet,
the kind that makes
spark appear when fingers interlock,
the kind of magic that
makes your heart beat
so fast
when you don't want it
to beat
at all.

They always say that
they feel numb after a heartbreak
that the pain doesn't really
reach their hearts

and I try, I tried to not let it get to me
but I couldn't

I remember lying on my bed
in the middle of the night
trying to let sleep take me as my
emotions flooded over me

and i try, i tried to not let it get to me
but i couldn't

the pain was so raw in my heart
easily separating all the happiness
from my poor fragile limbs

and i try, i tried to not let it get to me
but i couldn't

i don't remember me feeling numb
as i got over him breaking my heart

i only feel numb now,
because i no longer have feelings for him
ever since
i laid eyes on
you.

‘My mother told me never to play with fire.’
My eyes looked into his eyes
and darted away just as fast.
His blue eyes however,
never left my direction
and I was getting a little shy.

‘Oh really. Not even like this?’
His lightly brushed my right arm
and that was when I felt the first spark.

It took little time for the spark to grow
and it spread like a hail fire,
burning every single thing in the way.

The spark in my heart was hotter
than the flames
or the fire
and the smokes suffocated my lungs.

Like all fires,
it got out of control
it left scars that
never healed
and haunted me
every time I thought
I felt a spark.

My mother told me never to play with her
but she didn’t warn me
about the sparks I feel in my heart.

He was always there for me
when I was sad
he would pick me up
and cheer me up.

He was always beside me,
when I turned my right
he was there, when I
turned left, he was there.

He knew what I wanted
to say before I said it.
He knew me like the
back of his hand.

He was mine to own.
His name was poetry.

When I was younger
I use to be afraid
of the demons
in the year above us.

They walked the halls
like it belong to them.

They entered a room
like they owned it.

I thought that when
I grew up
I would posses the
very same power  

but

it was never much the same.

A year later
and I'm still
looking down at floors,
avoiding all eye contact.

When I enter a room,
no one realises I'm there

when I walk the halls,
I hardly make a sound

and that's when it hit me

confidence doesn't increase
as you grow older.

The little girl in my journalism
had more confidence to talk to me
and I would ever have
to start a conversation.

You either have it
or you don't.

Confidence is shaped
by your personality,
not your age.

As a child, I was always warned
never to love a boy
who breathed in smoke
because he would love
his cigarettes more than
he'd ever love me

and ever since
i've been afraid

but when I met you
fear didn't consume me,
the exhilaration of loving you did.

It was all I wanted.
It was all I did.

Until I made you choose
between your cigarettes and me.

My mind rages
like a fire in a wooden house
as it tries to work out
why i feel so frustrated

My mind blossoms
like a flower on spring morning
as it tries to understand
why i am so happy

My mind goes on and on
and can't stop thinking
and I realised that it was all about you

It wasn't about your mysterious eyes
or your shy little personality,
all I was thinking of
was simply you.

As a whole.
Not as fragments.

It has been a while since
I have felt this way
and i finally know it means
I'm falling for you.

Even if your eyes haven't met mine
yet.

my mother occasionally reminds me
that it is unfair to take your own life
because it is yours
and sometimes not
at the very same time

because you were made
from the same bones and flesh
as the thing
growing in your mother’s womb
and life didn’t start with you

it started with two people
in love
out of love
stupid
smart
careless
careful
and your life
sometimes belongs to you
and also sometimes
it belongs to them

my mother occasionally tells me
how tiring it was
to raise me as a child
because i wasn’t all peek-a-boo
and nursery rhymes

i was also sleepless nights
and endless tears
with a loud voice for screaming
and sometimes my life is mine
and sometimes it also isn’t

it belongs to two people
together
separated
dead
alive
happy
sad
and my life
is sometimes up to me
but also not up to me

and if it wasn’t up to me
to be brought into this world
why would it be up to me
to leave this world

and i know
that if i left this world
my parents would be more
disappointed than sad
because my mother
occasionally tells me
that it is unfair
to take my own life.

Have you ever cared for someone so much that you don't even want a grain of sand to hurt them? You know you would sacrifice anything just to make sure only good days go their way.

This feeling is so alien to me and I can't help but feel like it is so wrong. I've never ever felt so selfless before. You mean the world to me and I do not mean it in the cliche lovey-dovey way. I love you the way a mother loves her son, the way a sister loves her brother, the way a husband loves his wife, the way a best friend loves another, the way a dog loves it's owner but I do not love you the way a girlfriend loves her boyfriend.

It's all new to me.
It's all you to me.

THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST.
YOU AREN’T IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, NOT YET.
NOW, HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HOLD YOU
WHEN YOU BREAK APART OF WHEN YOU FALL ASLEEP
RIGHT NOW, ALL HIS HANDS KNOW ARE THE WAYS
TO MAKE SELF DESTRUCTION FEEL A LOT LIKE SELF INDULGENCE.
HE LOOKS AT THE MIRROR AND INSIDE HIS EYES
YOU CAN SEE THE WAY HIS UNDECIDED WHITES MIX WITH HIS BLUES
PREPARING FOR A WAR IN HIS MIND
TO GIVE UP ON ALL THAT LIFE HAS TO OFFER.
HE DOESN’T SEE THE WAY HIS BLUE-GREEN ORBS SWIRL,
LIKE THE WAVES OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN CRASHING ONTO THE SHORE.
HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT BLUE IS NOT ONLY THE COLOUR
OF THE SUIT HIS FATHER WORE IN HIS COFFIN BECAUSE
THE SHADE ONLY SEEMS TO REMIND HIM OF THE WAY
HIS FATHER USE TO TELL HIM THAT HE WAS DISAPPOINTED.
HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT BLUE IS ALSO THE COLOUR
OF FREEDOM AND IF HE WENT OUT OF THE HOUSE ENOUGH
HE WOULD HAVE SEEN IT IN THE CLOUDS AND THE BIRDS
BUT NOW ALL HE CAN DO IS STARE AT HIS REFLECTION
IN THE TOILET OF THE FLESH AND BONES THAT CARVE HIS DEMEANOUR AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL HIM
THAT HIS EYES REPRESENT THE OCEAN
AND THE WAY IT IS RELUCTANT TO GIVE UP KISSING THE SHORE
NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES IT HAS BEEN SENT BACK.
DO NOT GIVE UP.
SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL HIM THAT HIS EYES
ARE MORE THAN JUST BLUE AND HIS SKIN
IS MORE THAN JUST SCARS BECAUSE IF WHAT HE WANTS
TO CARVE OFF IS NOT JUST SKIN AND BLOOD
BUT THE PAIN FROM THE BEATING PULSE BENEATH IT
TELL HIM TO MOVE ON FROM HIS FATHER’S DEATH
BECAUSE THAT WOULD HURT A LOT MORE
THAN JUST STOPPING THE PULSE.
DO NOT GIVE UP.
SOMEONE NEEDS TO TEACH HIM THAT THE BLADE
IS NOT THE ANSWERS OF ALL HIS PROBLEMS
BECAUSE EVEN IF SCARS HEAL, LIFE MAY NOT BE ABLE
TO FORGIVE YOU FOR THE TIME YOU SPENT MOURNING IN GUILT.
DO NOT GIVE UP.

THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST.
YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, YOU THINK YOU DO
BUT YOU STILL CAN’T QUITE UNDERSTAND WHY THE DEMONS
CHOOSE HIM AND WHY HE REFUSES TO LET GO BUT TONIGHT
HE PUTS DOWN THE BLADE AND THE BLAME
BECAUSE HE HAS YOU.

YOUR TOUCH BURNS HIM MORE THAN THE BLADES EVER HAVE
AND HE THINKS THAT THE SCARS ARE HEALING
BUT HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THAT PEOPLE LEAVE SCARS TOO
SO HE HOLDS YOU AT NIGHT
AS YOU WHISPER EMPTY PROMISES IN HIS EAR.
DO NOT GIVE UP.
HE LISTENS AS YOU TELL HIM THAT HIS EYES
REMIND YOU OF THE GALAXIES
AND EVERY TIME THAT YOU ARE WITH HIM
YOU CAN FEEL THE STARS BURNING IN YOUR STOMACH.
DO NOT GIVE UP.
YOU TEACH HIM THAT GRIEF HAS TO BE LET FREE
AND YOU WATCH AS HE TURNS INTO SOMEONE
YOU NO LONGER RECOGNISE,
HAPPIER, LIGHTER, SO FULL OF LIFE.
DO NOT GIVE UP.
THE BLADES ARE NO LONGER IN THE CABINET UNDER THE SINK
BUT AT THE DRUGSTORE IN PERFECT LITTLE PACKAGES WAITING TO BE BOUGHT.
HE DID NOT GIVE UP.

THE BOY IN THE TOILET HOLDS A BLADE TO HIS WRIST.
YOU ARE NOT IN LOVE WITH HIM. AT LEAST, YOU WERE ONCE.
HIS EYES SLOWLY GATHER MORE BAGGAGES AND
HE DOESN’T EVEN RECOGNISE HIMSELF
WHEN HE LOOKS AT THE MIRROR
BECAUSE ALL THAT STARES BACK IS AN EMPTY SHELL.
HE FINALLY UNDERSTANDS WHAT YOU MEANT
WHEN YOU TOLD HIM THAT PEOPLE COULD LEAVE SCARS TOO
BECAUSE THERE IS ONE, KNUCKLE DEEP, IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS HEART
AND HE URGES HIS EYES TO START THE ENDLESS WAR
BUT INSTEAD HE STARTS TO SEE THE GALAXIES
AND THE STARS IN HIS EYES THAT YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH
SO TONIGHT HE PUTS DOWN THE BLADE.
HE STARTS TO UNDERSTAND
THAT EVEN THOUGH OTHER PEOPLE CAN SHOW HIM
THE LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS,
IT ONLY DEPENDS ON HIM TO PICK UP THE BROKEN PIECES.

My heart trembles as I walk to you.
It's over, I thought, for sure this time.
'I can't do this.' You tell me.
'Just do it.' I reply frustrated.
I looked deep into your eyes and all I saw was pity and confusement.
You took a breath.
'Break?' You ask.
Why didn't you say up?
Why just break?
I look at you, tears filling up my eyes. 'Bye.' I said as I hugged you one last time, inhaling your scent.
I walk away, biting my lips, rushing to the toilet hoping a tear doesn't fall before I reach.

I stood at my locker later that day.
You came and stood behind me.
You placed a hand on my waist.
I really wanted to use all my might to ask you to let go but it felt like home and I really missed your touch (it has been a long time)
I looked at your eyes, and I could see pity.
I couldn't look too far into them without crying.
'I'm sorry.' You said with a frown.
If you are breaking up with me for another girl, at least be happy about it. 'I'm sorry.' You said again.
'No. Don't say sorry. Don't say anything. Just say hi,' I replied
'Smile.' I continued.
You forced a smile and that was all I needed to convince myself that you were happier without me.

(I saw you with another girl after school and I guess you were happier after all)

I was nine when I was in the kitchen and my mother told me off for playing with food.

I was ten when I was on my bed, sick, and my brother told me he’d always be there for me.

I was eleven when I was in the playground and my father put a plaster on my knee.

I was twelve when I was in my friend’s house and we promise we’d be friends forever.

I was thirteen when I was in school and my teacher told me that I was the brightest student in class.

I was fourteen when I was on the floor and I told my friends I wanted to escape when I played truth or dare.

I was fifteen when I was on the field and I scored a goal that led to victory. It made me feel I had control.

I was sixteen when I was in the rain and my first love gave me my first kiss. I saw sparks ignite for the first time.

I was seventeen when I was at a party and I got drunk. I muttered feelings I didn’t know I was capable of expressing.

I was eighteen when I was in my room and I slit my wrist, hoping for death to find me.

I was nineteen when I was in my toilet, found dead with a bottle of pills in my hand.

Today, I walked up the stairs slowly
and I was entirely grateful.

Today, you were walking past me
and you caught my eye.

Today, your eyes landed on mine
and my heart stopped.

Today, you smiled at me
and the world stopped spinning.

Today, I realised I was falling for you
and it would be worth it.

Today, tomorrow
and yesterday I'd be grateful I met you.

I don't think it is fair
how I romanticise a poem
about a boy who
broke my heart

the weighing scale speaks to me
it is lying
i don't feel like this
i feel as though i have
twenty donkeys
thirty elephants on me.

two months ago
i would have been
perfectly happy feeling this way
but now that i've reached
it feels nothing like i imagined
and so much worst

In this world we live in
countries celebrate and glorify
the accomplishment of
exceeding a cellphone's broadband.

I understand this means
the country is developing
but it also says a lot
about who we are now.

WHERE HAS HUMANITY GONE TO?

What happened to written letters
or sad goodbyes
with sloppy kisses
and a promise to never forget?

What happened to the urgency
to see someone after a long time
rather than see them online,
pretending they are here?

Where is the human warmth
in spending a dinner together
without a single person
touching their mobile phones?

WHAT HAPPENED TO HUMANITY?
WHY ARE WE CELEBRATING THIS?

As technology goes up,
humanity goes down.

I think you can say,
humanity is inversely proportioned
to technology.

I wanted to write a poem
about the way you looked at me
but I didn't have any words
and I realised, with you,
there are never any words.

It is raining outside
and like the thunder
I had so much inside
it needed to go somewhere.

I wanted to smile at you
but my lips decided to freeze,
you were the ice age
that no one ever saw coming.