I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

design your body next to me,
close the blinds let’s sleep till three.

choreograph heartbeats
and rendezvous in our dreams.

rewinding roads above box springs,
your toes curl tight around my feet.

when we esplanade under sheets,
high thread counts don't mean a thing.

lights rotate around my room
things that make sense
I can't make it on my own
this feeling is not normal
I'm sorry I embark this on you
the screen got a little bit fuzzy
my body aches for you
my heart aches for you too
rotate around my room
in the light let me be, too

lights, your arm, sleeping
you know I can't make it on my own
lights, your arm, sleeping
you didn't think you'd feel this way
lights, your arm, sleeping
you know exactly what I'm thinking
lights, your arm, sleeping
come on, you know you like when I'm a
good sweet girl; come on, you know you like
when I'm a good sweet girl;
you can be my daddy.

paper thin skin
the artist’s eye is drawn
moth to a flame
but darling, paper burns

fragile, the softest ashes
they say “it always ends like this”
porcelain quivers
artist’s eyes, closed lids

flicker, just minutes more
please, just one last kiss
tears wet the cracks
and salt your drying lips

this loss, feel it endlessly
let me taste you one last time
something to savour,
to agonise the mind

There’s a square,

The silence kills me.

In which the okay things go.

Unasked questions,

But I stray sometimes.

I want the answer to.

I don’t mean to hurt you.

I've always known
That I'd die in a car accident
Someway
Somehow,

And beneath the
Silent flicks of lightning
Stretching across
A plaster sealed sky,

The world stood still,
Molded out of clay
And gasping for air
Like a drizzled flower petal
Suspended in time,

For a moment so fleeting
It nearly escaped me,
I hoped some drunken
Speeding car
Would smash right into me,

For once not because of the
Complexity and dismemberment of it all,

But because I was okay with dying
In some moment where it all made sense.

if the stone could speak
it would say to the wind
cease this restless seeking
and stay awhile with me

but the stone cannot speak
and the wind rushes on
to the faraway forest;
it dances with the trees

This is not a poem
Or a song that would amuse you
This is me speaking out
Shall we have a little talk?

About the day
About the night
About the clouds
About the sky

About a person
We know we loved
About a thing
We like to have


To hear what you thought
To listen to what you hate
To see with your own eyes
To feel your own storms