of strained bones and cracked skin
bleeding lips and hued eyes
i stand here by you
hoping that
even after the hurricanes
you would still love me
and i would still
be loved

let the stars speak you said
and i weep
and thrash
vehemently
and painfully
because you are gone
destroyed
by my broken self
whom you tried
to save
from no other
than
i

to be a poet
is to destroy yourself
and use the broken shards
to mend other people
perpetually
over
and over
until eventually
there is nothing left

to give

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

i have heard of stories
of how poets are loved
by heavenly beings
as they make the face of love
seems like a dream and unworldly
they carved love and shape it
to be held like hope
like it was spoken
for them

their words make
the word love puts itself
to shame as
the feeling when
flowers grow into
your lungs and
you hear the voice
of nature
whispering tunes of life
to your ears
are worth more
than those four letters

when a poet falls in love
she bleed out words from
her skin
as she longs to feel
the hope that she created
the world seems brighter
and colourful
as she looks softer and blurry
and full of worry
that the love of her life
do not love her
never love her
for she keep her emotions
blue and beautiful and a secret
never told

when a poet falls in love
she never see herself
for her eyes reflects
him and only him

pallid skies and crystal blue eyes
i have never seen a world so blue
and it is all
in your eyes
you speak words of flowers
and any kind of beauty in the
form of melodies
even though your intention
is not as pure as it seems to be
stars exploded in my body
and it felt like i was whole for another moment
for butterflies are an understatement
as they are ephemeral beings
as i wish
and wish
and hope
that it will las-
ah, there you are
she just fell for you
i feel
nothing
the stars exploded
but it hurt
like it never did
and the butterflies
are dead
and i wonder
if i am
too

my parents once told me
to never love someone
more than he loves myself
for it will be the death of me
but i guess i have died thousand times
for i easily fell for someone
with their little habits
the little curve that appears when
he smiles
his sunbleached skin
flashes of emotions
that appear across his face
but oh my
he turned my heart to shambles
for he held cigs like no one ever did
and drink stuffs that he should not drink
spread words of love
with empty feelings
as if love is just an empty shell
i once thought that
he was a saint
for that was the reason
he shines more than anybody else
but he is just like
any other people
a wolf covered in sheep skin

you were spoken by chattering girls
tall, fine and kind
you are perfect, they said
too good to be true, i said
i sat down thinking
empty heart and tired eyes
you sound like a dream
which i never believed in

your name echoes again
and i saw a glimpse of your soul
i was mesmerized by
your dream
your vision
someone like a dream exists
and it was truth
it was

then i saw you
in flesh, bones and blood
my heart is still black
for my heart is dead
a long time ago
but seeing you
was painful
because you were
a shining light
while i was just
a candle in the daylight

you did not know me
and i like it better
that way
and im so glad
that you did not
know me
because i will be sad
when i know
that you step
on flowers that
you refuse to see
and it turned out
to be true
for i saw you
stepping on the roses
when i was just
a mere sunflower