tell me not to run
back to fields of daisies,
now scorched by the sun.

tell me not to mourn
the silken sky of night
now breaking into dawn.

tell me not to hold
the pieces of silver,
you’re turning into gold.

tell me to be quiet
and hear Your new journey,
whispered to me in private,

tell me to be still
basking in Your presence,
and bending to Your will.

i went to write, to spill
my soul onto the page.

word prediction stopped me,
dead in my tracks.

two words it gave me,
capitalised. full.

Depressive Disorder.

phones know too much about us,
these days.

she was chai
exotic and thrilling.
i was addicted
drowning in her spices
her taste overwhelming me
engulfing me
but while i craved her
wanted her
she could never fulfil
the thirst in me.

i am parched
and i have no water.

You’re a force of nature.

I am the city that trembles and falls to your earthquake; you shake my core and leave me breathless -

It’s in the way I shatter and come undone, around the hurricane of you.
The most welcome frenzy; you lift me into the air and spin me.
My mind blown out.

You’re the tsunami that washes me away,
When your weight bears down on me.
My city falls to it every time; I am submerged in your every touch.
Soaking for you.

I am a tree ablaze, bending and crackling to your will.
Your touch leaves scorches on my skin; burning, heating me up on the inside -

I run to dance in you, to fall at the splendour of your storm.
Struck by blinding flashes of your beauty; thunder in my head under my skin.

But I am the volcano, I erupt.

There she stood delphic in the night’s mist,
Bewitching, with beauty not seen afore.
Hair black as the raven and thick as the forest;
Her emerald eyes glistening in the light of her mother.

For she is the daughter of moon and tide,
Forever purged of shackles and earthly ties.
Betrothed to the woods she wanders wild,
With the sounds of panting breath and ethereal cries.

Padding lightly now; through the night she’ll roam,
Extended claws gripping the rain drenched mud.
From her mouth secrets form in spit and foam,
Baring fangs – a wraith of white baying for blood.

Her cheeks flushed to the colour of damask,
Haunched on slender hinds for her nightly prowl;
Hunting down the sun, she would devour at each dusk.
For she was the wolf, and to the moon she’ll howl.