I want to write about you
the way I do a spot of light
shining on like a lighthouse
on an uneventful dark night.
I want to write about your eyes,
the mystifying stars above us
that gently remind us of light
and how sometimes it is enough.
I want to write about your smile,
the one I have not set sights upon
like the concavity meant to draw life
into its presence from stars and beyond.
I want to write the way you make me feel
but to describe such a sensation is indelible
and a permanent scar that sits across my heart
I'm reminded of my faults that are plentiful.
I want to write about you
...but humans aren't meant to write about angels
while having their feet planted on the planet,
I want to write about you
the way I do the stars
because i want to gaze at you
not with my eyes but my heart.

My pen washes blue then green
From all the things left to see
I have not the heart to make seen
And all the things left to hang on
I ask myself 'has it not long gone?'
I'm met with self doubt and hatred
Though all I've taken sacred
Has bestowed upon me nothing
But tragedy and the toll has taken
To get here.

Of all the things it could be
I'm stuck on wishing "it could have been".

She hasn't spoken to me in a while
but that could be just in my mind,
she told me 'love' should be unheard
so I want to show it, the way its preferred.
I can't seem to find the right things to do
I'm pulling on a thin thread hoping that
turning my ribcage that held her
most favourite flowers instead of my heart
could have been a better choice.
My heart, it use to beat the rhythm of her steps,
the tune to her voice,
but now it feels hollow.
I want a bouquet of roses to grow
from my ribcage so that I can show her
that I love her.
I want my blood to be the water
that the roses drink and the shine of my smile
the light that feeds the roses.
I just want her to know I love her,
but she doesn't.
The sad thing is, even if I die,
I know I'll die loving,
no one but her,
wanting,
no one but her,
needing,
no one but her.

I watched the sunflowers grow
in her ribcage and I'm smiling
while pleading
**
my mind has become so hazy,
the world is driving me crazy
But please don't give up on me baby

With muddled hands all aligned
we fought the chains that confine
our hope for an equal world.
The brutish pain has been hurled
in our general direction, years and years;
collated tears and tears, unchanged.

Created division between poor and rich,
as though the poor aren’t human
reshaped and modelled to, look like,
speak like, act like but not quite, like human.
The brutish pain has been hurled
in our general direction, years and years;
collated tears and tears, unchanged.

We are human,
trying to turn the page,
trying to create a change,
so that the story continues on…