If only, everyone around was just like us
If only, the world thought exactly the same
If only, you and I, we already knew
Our next thought, our very next game

If only, it all happened the way we wished
If only, it all settled down by each night
If only, we didn’t lay away in our pillows
Thinking how we could make everything right

If only, they trusted and believed in us
If only, the past wasn’t the way it turned out
If only, the universe listened keenly
Life wouldn’t have been what its all about.

i've had a bad week.

the violent fall out
mixed with the creeping knowledge
of a dreadful situation
spelled doom for me.

a field day for my emotions,
who were like children in a park,
running wild and
desperately chasing each other
or other things until one day,
they all fell down.

i was found,
curled up and limp on the hard wood floor.
tears were streaking down my cheeks,
feeling like acid rolling down my face.
tears filled with rage, frustration
and sadness feel like that don't they?

and as i watched and observed from the side lines,
i see your eyes,
and i know now
that the wait is over.

i
move
now.

It was on the walk while surrounded by dizzy  
stillness and birds' song,
Invoked in a desperate last gasp
It was all too apparent with the spinning nothingness of this street
Swirled and unapologetically driven by nonsense except in smatterings
while looking down a street
looking for a cigarette,
The reality in facing reality hits me,
like a swift kick in the nuts
when the Gardener looks at me with those,  uneasy eyes,
The walk continues as
the colors inked with rusted mailboxes
etched with dying roses synch grey skies
and grey...sweatshirts
The walk feels well worn
and I stand in unconvinced understanding,
That I was no longer nauseous.

Going out with you is like taking a unknown bus,
I do not know where it goes
Nor do I feel comfortable.

Talking to you
Is like reading a foreign language book.
I do not understand .

You want to know what I'm doing,
But I'm a free and independent woman
I do not need weights to tie me down.

I may tell you I'm sorry
But I'm not sorry
Because through all my life
I've learnt to survive on my own.

anxious to fold itself into letters of perfumed language

Man is prone to fears,
they say.
Some fear the dark,
Others dread an obstacled way.
To each is his own,
A battle to fight,
Looking, seeking
For a way to capture the light.
I too have
My set of frights, demeaning.
That can be analysed not
Despite all screening.
For my monster is neither virtual
Nor real.
Yet my flights it restricts
And my dreams, seal.
My dreaded demon
Is the mirror on the wall,
That overlooks my glory
And highlights each fall.
The mirror that looks me in the eye,
Unnerved,
While telling me each pitfall
Was deservingly served.
It is a devil that exists
Both inside and out.
The torture unleashed via
A muffled shout.
I can turn to none,
Nor plead within.
For it is the punishment
Of an unatoned sin.

here, i offered a small thing,
a weak thing. a thing that doesn't speak
or move, but briefly feels warm to a palm's touch.
i offered it so slowly, without realizing consciously what i'd done,
but when i do notice...

when i do notice,
my palms shake as i watch it spill to the floor,
regret twinges all over and i
made such a huge mistake. such a huge mistake.
i took a chance. i risked, i risked because
life tells you

reach, reach, reach
whispers
don't think, do
paints a possibility portrait, makes you fall in love with ideas
and then you stumble through
you trip.
you offer it,
and you can't take it back.