I love it when you wear eye-liner,
and I love it when you don't
because your bare eyes are indicators of your exhaustion level

I love it when you wear foundation,
and I love it when you don't
because you make my heart sink every time you blush

I love it when you wear lipstick,
and I love it when you don't
because your lips get redder when I kiss you

I love you whatever you do
but don't feel the need to do it for my sake,
do it for you

**I love you

As  I read your poems,
all I could think of
is ...
Genius.

But that scares me sometimes.
Am I in love with you?
or am I just in love with your poetry?

But then I remember...
we are
what we write.

Woke up
Ate breakfast
Brushed my teeth
And put on makeup

Today
Is not the day
I stay in bed

But I am not strong
Enough
Against
The flow of my tears

I pat my mascara-tears
Under my eyes
And cover my red nose
With a ton of powder

Why do I try so hard
To distract
Myself
Of the undeniable truth
Of extreme sadness

Maybe I should take a makeup wipe
Remove all my makeup
And weep till early dawn

I am tired
Of fighting
And faking
What I know
Is the truth

A jungle.
So beautiful,
but dangerous.
Wild,
but serene.

I'd like to think
wind can still enter
after I've closed the windows

I sometimes speak
words I don't comprehend,
throw the names
into the wind as
tears
make their way
into my eyes

I remind myself
of the phrases
I keep holding on to

and the fears
start creeping in
I swallow them
with my saliva
only after then,
in my intestines,
they'd be reabsorbed
into my blood

they travel
through my arteries
and veins
and settle in my brain
control my heartbeat
and my nervous system
and I shiver
with self-doubt

On days
I want to stay in
I don't wash my hair
I never mind
how I look like
because I love my soul
and I love my body
and I love my face

But tell me why
I wash my hair when
I go out
tell me why,
when I do that,
my body screams
in uncertainty,
demanding to know
what my
plan
is

I don't have a plan
on most days,
I wallow in self-pity
and sleep amongst regrets
and I wake up happy

they tell me to never sleep
when I'm sad
but it soothes my soul

I want to be loved
but I assure you
I will reject love
when it comes
knocking in my door

I will recognize love
through the peep hole
put my fingers in my ears
and go to the other room
and when love
calls me
my body will shiver
because I don't know
what to do

I'm not used to love
I'm not used to being given attention
and wanting it is not the same
as seeking it

And wanting it,
never harmed anyone

Contradicting myself
is my biggest talent
and I sometimes
wonder
if I have ten brains
fused into one

Vulnerability
is my greatest treasure
and it will one day
eat me alive

I promise you,
I will learn from my mistakes


Being aware of the effect
is not the same
as causing it

and on days like this,
I blame my hormones,
I blame things I cannot control

so that I allow myself
moments
of weakness

Do you know how many people
I've killed
in my poems?

It fills your ears

I thought it was for motivation

but now I know,
it's to cover the sighs

and subtle cries.

The pounding hearts,

and accidental treadmill farts

Sweat drips,

and constant water sips.

Yeah it's for motivation.

But what if the sounds we're supposed to hate,

motivate.

I would want you to be my star,
but then you would fade in the morning.

I would like you to be my sun,
but then you would set at night.

So maybe you could be my 'heartbeat,'
If it stops, I won't die from fright.

**I'm already dead.

If you ask me where I live,
I'd say "under your nail bed"
where its yellow,
blue and red

Horever, I live in dread
for I can grow out of you
and not one tear would be shed

I am witnessing a lack of creativity
Dragging me through the cracks of eternity
I see a bright light shining through the cracks
Is it hope, or the freedom from hope?
Or is it just the sun creeping through the curtain slit?

No, it's only the sun reflecting on my eyes
as I am dreaming of what is not true
because without creativity,
we won't have this kind of brilliant poetry

I'm a girl who needs warmth
but still chooses to wear short sleeves on a snowy day

I run my hands through my hair
and touch a pit on the back of my skull

I whisper to the air
"Wow, I forgot I had that scar,"

So easily does your body accommodate,
in the absence of a once living part

Your broken heart should only wait
For other sensations to impart

I worry about you

Some nights I soak my pillow
then cry into my hands
I try to press against my cheeks as tightly as I can
and convince them that they're laughing

One time, I cried all the way to your house in a taxi,
rushed to your bed and cried on there too,
we drank smoothies that day

I worry about you
I worry and I can't tell you
I don't wanna worry you too

I wish I can look into your eyes and tell you I forgive you,
and mean it

When I'm crying,
I feel like I'm suffocating by a lump in my throat
I think my pride had made its way into my airways, hoping to be coughed out
But I don't cough it out, I keep swallowing it back in

I guess this is how it feels

I guess this is where I am

I trained my feet to keep walking it feels so weird to stop

And tomorrow's gonna be different

A different reason to smile in the morning

If you ask me how I ended up here
I'll tell you I was blindfolded
and dragged to an unfamiliar ocean
dropped on to a boat made of
cheap sheets of wood
The waves are taking me away
and I'm yelling off the top of my lungs
and everyone I know is on the sand

no one is helping me

except you

My numbness came from intolerable pain

Please talk to me-
tell me

Is it going to be okay?
Are we going to be okay?

I want to tell you
about the familiar cologne
I smell on your collarbones

I think I've worn it before
Some time in the past
when I thought scents
would last...
and they did

Maybe the corner of your eyes
do not look like mine
but I swear
I see myself in your pupils
and feel myself in your iris

The delicate firmness
you hold yourself in
like a collapsed skyscraper
like a simplified complexity

I have worn it before

Maybe I met you before

Maybe I love you

Maybe
I'm just in love
with what reminds me
of myself

Maybe
I'm just in love
with myself

Is something wrong with that?

"To prosper", I whispered to myself
every time I felt
just a little closer to mind absence.
Just a reminder of my reason being.

Twirling in the living room
Of my childhood house
Fast.. faster

Suddenly I stop

But the Earth
never stopped rotating

I left my wrist watch
At home today

I don't need to be reminded
By the passage of time

My bones are osteoportic
And so are the walls of my life

Its only a matter of time
Before they start breaking

And I really
Really
Need a break

1,
he used commas
even when the essay
was one sentence long
2,
he never liked labels
and his entire body shivered
as someone tried to describe him
in one
3,
he told me why
4,
a word will never
describe a person,
will never capture
the essence behind his smile
the word,
may try to surround him
like tree branches,
grow around him
but he is free to change
free to grow
and free to contradict,
he was never a label
5,
many days
he cried
and the tears
rushed down
his smiling face
6,
he would think of things
the world was oblivious of
make words
for thoughts
he was a floating cloud
a flying lantern
a wandering kite
7,
he was temporary
8,
people like him
cannot be enclosed
cannot be imprisoned,
routine is prison
9,
we were never a label
we never called ourselves
a couple
he once said
we were
ourselves together
and this
made me ecstatically
speechless
10,
he used commas,
never periods,
I guess
I always knew
he will be
running on.

Pain is subjective
Showing it is selective

The mind
denies,

The eye
cries,

The heart
tries—
Not to feel— not at all.

The ground has been shaking beneath my feet
and I've been patient

the ground is gonna shake
until I fall and break my bones
and I'll be patient

and when all my bones are broken
all my dreams have fallen
and all my might has disappeared

I'll teach myself to be patient
about being patient

words are just letters
imagine that
26 letters and millions of words

patterns are everywhere

all we see are patterns of different things in different people

so how can I
not see the world in you?

I caressed the edges
of the knives in my back

Memorized every *****
in my thorns

Reviewed my way
around my scars

And recited
the ugly words

I made peace
with the past
and whispered
what I needed to say

If you ever feel rejected by perfection,
know that perfection isn't even an invention.


Perfection only exists in the eyes of critics,
in the imagination of teenage girls,


in the harsh judgements of your surrounding,
and in the person you someday wish to become.

Whatever it is
that closed your eyes
in a moment of confusion

taught you how to see
in darkness

Tell me
the first thought of your day
and the last prayer
in your night

tell me what shapes
you see in the clouds

and which songs
keep playing in your head

tell me about
your recurring dreams

tell me about the scents
that take you back

tell me how long
you can look at me
before breaking eye contact

tell me why you
sigh in elevators

then tell me how you keep
your feet warm in the winter

tell me when your tears
rushed uncontrollably

tell me which mistakes
you appreciate
and which ones
you try to ignore

tell me
and I promise you
I won't try to fit your
pieces like a puzzle

I promise you
I will treat
your every block
like a masterpiece

Your love was like a slice of pizza;

delicious, yet temporary.

All souls
can write
poetry


but not
all souls
need to

The

mighty

screams

hidden

in

the

still

silence.

After what we have ends,
I want you to know
that I'm okay.
I don't cry myself to sleep
neither do I stalk you on facebook

I don't talk to my friends about you
I don't stare at the pictures we took

I don't daydream about what could have been
I don't even remember that look...

That look you gave me when
you first saw me

the same look you gave me
when you said goodbye

The look you always gave me
when I wasn't even looking

The look I always loved..

I forgot it.

and sweetheart,
you did change the world,

*one poem at a time

Guns, Rifles, Bombs, and Knives
Have taken away countless lives,

but all those mighty weapons cannot compete
with the one weapon, the true hurtful defeat.

Words.

Sharper than any knife.
So hurtful, that they may cause one to intentionally end their life

Because the worst kind of death is not that within the grave,
the worst kind of death is dying while still being alive

When you pray during every suicide attempt that you wont survive.

That, is when you know that you are already dead.

And that....

is the worst kind of death.

Allow me to promise change
-
and to never keep that promise

The need for validation
the lack of affection
the idea of love
and appeal of attention

a dangerous combination
a potion for complete destruction

and once your heart settles down
it will start asking questions

but how can you explain
romanticizing disruption?

Rachel was my best friend
and her favorite memory of us
was when I told her she was

I don't see Rachel anymore
We barely text because we lead very busy lives

She travels now
Around the world
Down to her 10$ somewhere she loves being

And I live in the place I love too

Rachel and I were best friends

I miss Rachel, and I know she misses me too

Drifting apart is a part of life
but its a very sad part
the memories shared will be forgotten
or changed

It's a very sad story
but it still didn't end

I hope I see Rachel again
and I hope that we become best friends again

An empty house
on a cloudy afternoon

If I had known
I would've packed my bags
And escaped this harsh reality

Surround myself with people
Drown all the muted silence

Dripping drops
In my kitchen sink
Wasting water
As I'm wasting ink

My therapist
Told me to write

So many times I've craddled a journal and caressed a pen
Only to find myself falling asleep
With the ink flowing on my skin
Like its trying to write something

I once woke up to an ink stain on my couch
Finally some color in this boring pastel house

An empty house
Isn't an empty home

Sometimes I forget

Go where the people aren't
and clench your jaw

Every breath feels like fire
in your lungs
And every tear
feels like ice

Worry not

Life has a way
of preparing you
for what is
yet to come

Having a good day doesn't make us happy.
Our Happiness is what makes a day good.
We are *the day

Add
But Lose

Subtraction is addition

More is less
Love is hate

Forever is never

What they call you, when you refuse to conform to society.

My mother
loves remembering dates

She counts how old I am
in days and tells me
that she loves me

In moments like this
regression feels like
the only way out

As a new child is born
an older sibling
will start wetting the bed again
Trying... hoping.. to go back


He left me
On February 17th

When people ask
how many years its been
I'd like to answer them in seconds

Sometimes
I write February 17th on November
I don't do it on purpose

I really...
don't think
I've lived
A second without you

Burn your tongue
if it tries to speak my name
and crack your skull
when your brain thinks of me

Pain wakes you up
and you need that, honey

For why would any man
not diving in deep sleep
be in love with me?

Know,
if you are struggling to remember something
then there is something you're struggling to forget

We can't remember unless we forget.