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my brain started to rot,
with the thoughts that i dare not word,
the etchings and carvings of my trauma that i wish to never return,
and as life grips my throat,
the shaky breaths fail to escape my chapped lips,
drowning under the oceans anchored and below my sunken eyes,
with this weariness, i try to strive to see a world that loves me just the same,

and as my heart beats, falters, and persists,
despite all odds, determination fills my veins,
with aged scars, blackened burns, scarred scratches,
representing times i wish to forget,
the reminders are scorched into memories i like to pretend that never existed,
alongside the fact that my family did not foster a holy bond,

and, if any angels are near me,
them, as my witnesses,
can confide in that they only noticed spilled blood my own father admitted he never cared to see, the permanent cuts bound to my thick skin,
as i gazed into each slice,
wholeheartedly believing my blade would cut me from the ropes they ensnared upon my everloving entity

with the fury of the sun,
at the top of his tar-stained lungs,
he accused me of his premature death,
due to the stress of my illnesses he neglected to heal,
both still living with no regrets of the abuses he inflicted into my kin,
and the apple did not fall far from the tree,
similar sinisterness struck into my being
by the sinners i am expected to call my gracious home,

i am no angel,
and if god is cruel,
then you are the devil,

i am no savior,
no fallen child,
no messiah,
no hero from the stories that are my sanctuary,
just a wanderer, a journeyer, an existence that will cease,

and no matter who i am seen as,
and no matter how long i live,
and no matter my death date,
i will tell myself what you never will:
i am made of love,
i am made of light,
i am made of hope,
and i am a star that will never stop shining, even after my supernova
and as i become stardust, or rather dark matter,
the blurring of a century, if i am lucky enough, will fade into space,
and hopefully, if i am fortunate, another sweet, sincere, sorrowful soul will turn their eyes to the midnight sky,
and smile in the comfort that there is genuine happiness and beauty in this godforsaken world, even if it is lightyears away,
a keepsake of my soul, yearning my deepest desire, to be what i only hoped for anyone who so wishes,
though, especially endeared by those i love,
for i cannot gift it to myself, knowing the circumstances of life does not discriminate,
i want to love you forever,
but i cannot; our gravesites are as eventual as our smiles,
and, even, if for a moment,
couldn't it last forever...?
something i spilled out,
a rough draft of a free-verse
featuring feelings i tried to articulate
instead of tenderly etching into an old, forgotten diary
Jan 22 · 194
bloodstruck brooding
blood is thicker than water,
this will never change the facts:
they are that i do not like you,
that i do not love you,
that i do not want you around me;

i am expected to call you my brother,
when all you did was abuse me,
my mind, my body, my rights;
broken, violated, harmed by the brute force of you and your ego,

and yet, you still have the audacity to come to my face,
break down saying that you do not feel you have a family,
invalidate the trauma and boundaries you penetrated,
destroyed, slain, and act as if they do not exist,
simply because you wish to tell me that,
you are the one who is upset because i do not want to talk to you,
you are the one who is upset because you feel you can't say the name of my so-called brother who only traumatized me the same,

if only,
if only,
   if only, you could learn to even understand why --
but, this will never change the facts:
that is i know you are incapable of admitting or realizing the truth.
that is i whimpered, hoped, and shouted,
to anyone who would listen
that the truth was supposed to set me free.
what does it mean to have a family
without ever validating or knowing
what all they ever did was abuse you?
i will cope & live on regardless.

(just a rough draft of a quick vent
a practice of repetition, made for coping...!)
i craved the fleeting warmth of her impossible kiss
     i still do
           i thought she hated me with my entire being;

yet i longed for nothing more for her to be draped over me
with tender touches and sweet sighs
instead of being held against my will,
as my unwilling, lovestruck body was dragged & pushed --
not lovingly embraced, desired, or cherished; just scorned.

i felt the weight of my arched ankles manipulated by her dainty, ballerina figure i worshiped
coupled with my gasping breaths wrapped around her fickle, faithless fingers,
and i ravenously called this love.
a note my 14-year-old self mistakenly perceived
for a feeling i will get to know better

( & a rough practice of playing with
alliterations, letter & word placements ! )
Dec 2020 · 747
my flower ❀
you are a flower
so tender and dear
as i clutch you next to my still, beating heart

you are a flower
so tender and dear
even as your petals fall apart

you are a flower
so tender and dear
dripping honey into my sincere soul

you are a flower
so tender and dear
and your beauty is vibrant, as your life fades

you are a flower
so tender and dear
beloved by many, and feared by some,

you are a flower
so tender and dear
and, your beauty eternal, as it is ephemeral,

you are a flower
so tender and dear
as my last wish is to be enveloped in your finite love

as you lay, your words i cherished are etched in stone,
you were a flower
so tender and dear


musing about
the beauty & finiteness
of flowers & life

( & a rough practice of
repetition & imagery ! )
Nov 2020 · 182
{ i'm sorry . . . }
the existence of you should not strike fear into my still, beating heart
for you are not a product of the sins your brother's ****** hands carved,
yet, i cannot help, but recall the touch you and i miss, forced over my body and my mind, with the reminder of his suicide,
when i see your name;

and it may be that you feel his loss, once again,
or wish to forget how you solemnly shared with me,
in the halls where we cried until we were emptier,
and the edges of reality blurred into our tears,
with our shallow, shaky breaths,
that i was his closest confidant
when you see mine.
a secret letter
to the sister
of my late, best friend
who shared the title of my abuser

[ p.s: i'm sorry i struggle to keep in touch ]
Nov 2020 · 185
[ p.s: i miss you ]
and i have whispered
as if you were near,
about how much i loved you
and everything that you hold dear,
yearning to hold you
and for you to love me too --

to the point that i forgot
how much it bled
to see you ooze with love
dripping from your saccharine lips
that sugar-coated the names of others
overlooking, while i was in sight
as i silently pleaded,
i do not want you to see me through the eyes of others
i want to be seen by you

and as i poured my heart
into letters,
messages,
stories,
sentiments,
and secret poetry,
adorned with your favorite chocolates
over the years,

the reality that pained me so much
was not that you did not love me
or that you never said so back
yet only to those i felt i lost to you,

it is that you could not bring yourself
to genuinely apologize or feel sorrow
for any excuses or explanations you had
in forgetting me, even after you said
you would be with me and embrace me,
only for me to see, time and time again,
how you valued others
in the tens and thousands of words
i have seen with my own eyes,
in a space you welcomed me in,
as i am no more than a thought that left your heart and head,
for that these are the words you neglected to return to me.

and i realized
i am loved;
and i am forgotten.
my answer to
what if you can't complete the person that completes you?

— The End —