your hand runs up my thigh
i'm flushed
your hand feels under my shirt
i'm counting the seconds in my head
you unclasp my bra
i'm enveloped by goosebumps
you notice i'm nervous
i'm beyond nervous
you tell me everything's ok
i'm alone
you pick my cherry
i get nothing in return

All the memories with him
Still remains fresh in my mind.

Just an unexpected call
Made my life upside down.
It was a sudden ordeal.

When I saw my dad at hospital
I smiled but that smile didn't last longer.
He was covered in white cloth.

I stared at his beautiful face
For the last time in my life
I mumbled inside my heart
That I have always loved him
And  it's gonna be forever.

Hot tears start falling  
Into my cheeks
Before I knew.......

Love you so much DAD.

i’m terrified
because i know
one day i’ll die

not just my body
but my memory
everything that remains of me

one day i’ll truly die
nobody will whisper my name again
and i’ll become

irrelevant

insignificant

unimportant

someday, nobody will think of me ever again
all i was
all i wish i could be
all i will be

will mean nothing.

Once there were two poor souls looking for a friend,
In whom which she can confide, with whom he can have fun
He was living the moment because of her
But she was present there because of him

I was feeling and felling for you,
But you weren't able to have it,
We met many times and have some fun,
And we eat at others on the same tryst.

I was digging in deeper,
But you were barely scratching the surface,
Yes we were crying and yelling at the same time,
But still she thought, maybe, I was lying

He never understood and probably never will,
Why she looked she never will be there to be with
She kept speaking just her heart out but he wasn't clear,
Was he on a tryst? Or was it just a friendly affair

I have a little black book
Inside are names
Names of those I know
Some I love
Some I onced loved
Some I came to despise
Every time I open the book
It makes me sad
Most of these names
I haven't spoken to in years
Some I barely remember
Sometimes I add new names
Not as often as I used to
And every time I do
A light shines inside
Before being extinguished
Once again
As I close my little black book
A little black book full of me

there is no need
to punish some people
when they do wrong
for they are already broken,
and that is like stomping on glass
after it has shattered

even careful hands
may get cut piecing together
the shards with the glue of
love and poetry, but that
is what it takes.

The best poems are all about
loss and pain and suffering.
It feels more natural to write a poem
about a long lost memory,
Or a love that never worked.

Poets aren't allowed to be happy.
They’d run out of material to write about.

The words
content and happy
in the same sentence as the word
I'm,
feels like your tongue
never sitting right in your mouth,
like teeth getting in the way
when making out
like an itchy throat,
not going away even after coughing a fit.

The phrases
You are and my boyfriend
can't be a real sentence
like how
unicorns and fairytales
don't exist.
They just feel like
two jigsaw pieces
from different parts of the puzzle
forced to sit beside each other.

The word love
just doesn’t resonate
with the beat of my heart.
Maybe because
my heart stopped beating
a long time ago
and my brain had to carry the workload
so I think twice as much as I should
synonyms?
I overthink.

I may be the only poet
who doesn’t want to be happy;
a ******* clinging to heartbreak,
and loss and pain and suffering.
because it’s easier to let heartbreak
wrap myself in its familiar arms
than to experience an adventure
with happiness wrapped in mine.