He kissed
my flower


























































­















































tattoo.









­










*you naughty minds - smirks

"I feel old", I said

"Time travel" they imposed

"How?", I exclaimed

"Fall in love", they replied

You
confused
my pencil tips,
they used to write poetry
Now, they doodle in lines in bewilderment
aimlessly drawing the words in sketches of an amateur love

It's not the time
it's the toll

I gave my
gut
a voice
it
gave me
cœur-
age

Maybe my heart
was born too small
for the love
it carries...

That's why it
shares it
just to
give itself
breathing
space

"I oddly miss you",
words
slipped off her
tongue
like a waterslide  


That's when the heart
goes
"*** did I just feel?"

He played
with her hair
and poetry
untangled
every
"not"

I came
to the conclusion
one line at a time
tripping off
commas that
I thought
left me breathless
but turned out
they were
*******
the life
out of
me

The cat attacked the tree
everything came
falling down

The cat left
me picking up
the ornaments
and starting
all over again

Realizing that
I get a second chance
to decorate it
to put it together
again
in a different
way

*pauses and reflects
at healing in life

Today, I
put a full stop
at the end
of an on-going
poem,

the sad part was
that I thought it will
bleed beyond it,

but all it asked for
as a light mentioning
in pages,

I had to refuse
so I added another
full-stop..

RAISING YOUR
VOICE
will only
lower you
in my
eyes

Listen,
poems read
differently
when you're close to the poet

Listen,
run your hands
across my pages
caress the dents
feel the depth in some
and the lightness in others

Listen,
come closer
place your ear
on my papers
listen to the waltz
my pencils do
with every
stride, every curve

Send n(you)des
Send (new)des

Fatten my papers
with poetry
your name
is dense
it inks it
differently

Let's make
love
in wa(y)s
that
p(o)ets
fail
to p(u)t
in
words

What a word
It is deep enough
and when said
at the right time
it changes the narrative
paths, worlds, hearts...

"LIKE"
Not only are we similar
but the emotions
the word has are light and heavy
enough to show the likeness, laced with love,
with a heartbeat, a mind-beat

And adding the word "wise"
Oouufff
you have to be wise
to use the word likewise -
because for you to be
similar you are at that mental wit
to say it, feel it, think it

"I (insert emotion) you so much"
"likewise"

Now,
that's a game-changer

Someone told me
"love looks at decent
ones "

I nodded, sighed, and smirked
but love
made me
like
this

Unleashed my curls
broke my walls
shattered
my people-pleasing
sharpened my poetry
silenced my loud voice
widened my eyes
encouraged my heart
undressed my façade
made me dance naked
in the face of judgement,
sing the songs of truth
and fall in love with
all things wrong
right, left, ugly, beautiful
and gave strength
to the choice that
always stood in the back
but now takes center stage

"Love left me right",
"Love leaving, made me write"
I replied

I got stuck
in a plot
                                        t
w
                              i                    
                                                s
                  t

and it made
me

A) Dizzy
B)  Sick
C) Light-headed
D) Aware

............(Answer)..............

I drink it
straight

I write 'em straight
to the point
bold, curvy, squiggly,
pressured or light
and oh
so transparent

Liquid courage
inked in my vessels

soft introductions
******* bodies
the outros
are mostly
unexpected

but they all
deserve a cigarette
afterwards

My niece
made me bangle
of letters, stars, unicorns|
and colored beads

Then it hit me
that's her poem to me
a set of random things
that sit beautifully
side by side
around in a circle

and I noticed that
that's the first time
someone wrote
a poem
about
me

Lust
is l(ove) (st)reet
without
you

Lust is
Lost
without
you

Lust is
life with
"I" (f)eeling (e)xcited

Lust is
flexible
but never
a sin
until
it is
with
(u)

Leading someone
on
feels
like writing
the beginning
of the
cutest poem
and then
it sudde.......

What ***** is that
poets don't ghost
because they
can't
un-write

I threw my heart at you
and you struck
a home run
and placed
it among
the
s * t  a  * r  * s
                                 *                            *                                   ­    *
                                                  *           ­                          *
          *             *                                                   *                                        

Of all the worlds
I create,
none of them
miss you
miss you

I grab my pencil
everyday

Shaky hands
bring down the lead tip
barely touching the paper
in anticipation
of inspiration

Bombs explode outside  
clouding the sky

I call my muses
to work
but
they fail to clock in
because
the road between
the heart and the mind
has been
bombed

I can't keep my
mind shut
and my heart
quiet
for the key
to locking them
got lost
the day
I learned
that,
"all is fair in love
and war."

When a heart
forgets
how to heart

A mind how
to
mind

A logic
how to
logic

A human
how to
align with
all the above

I caught my breath
chasing after another

I put my hand on my chest
to tame a raging heart

"Calm down ******"
I said

"But I'm falling"
it replied

They drop
traumas
like
r
r                                         i
                                           i

                                                              ­                        n
                                       ­                                                n
                                a
                             ­    a

Why does my mind
race
without running shoes
to exhaust the
thought of
over-thinking?

Maybe my poems
have fallen on deaf ears
to a point
where
they lost
their
voice

Why not.
Not why.

The words fall short
of their meaning
the one beyond the read

The lines weaken
and leave the reader
with a sense of boredom

The heartbeat
only in that cage
and fails to bleed
on pages

The papers
become satiated
with empty ink
lacking quality

The poet
loses him/her/them self/ves
in that limbo
between
head
and heart
running on a treadmill
trying to catch the fleeting muses

The poet dilutes
in reality
his/her/their greatest
fear
for that is
what they
try to escape
in every
poem

When they tell me
"we understand"
I take them seriously
because they will always
be under
the impression
that they know

I
for
got
for
mality
for
it fermented
itself
in
for
ming
years of
com
for
t

I severed
ties
and all I have
to give you
is a band aid
to stop the
bleeding
for I am robbed
of all my
FIRST AID KIT
of affection

I always went for the natural look
till it dread itself with dread

I put some conditioner
and lathered its sorrows away

Little did I know
that I was manipulated into thinking
my natural was natural...

Till I dried it off
and saw a lighter curlier ...natural

The tabs of my mind
miss your fingers
skimming through them
index first
middle next
till you find yourself
running till you
find
thoughts of
you

We lock things
to keep them safe

We lock them
as plan B

because at that time
we feel unsafe
around them

The sound of your thoughts
crunch through my brain
every time
I chew
through
your
lies

Putting pen to paper
slowly
                              serenades my nerves
and carefully
                              caresses my insecurities
to make me mindfully
                              and mindlessly
fall
for
every dent
the words put
in my chapter

It's the kind of heartbeat
that pushes you forward

For what's a glow but a holy light?

There was a little dash once
that lead me from here - here…
sometimes it showed me time
and how long and short it can be
from Christmas – my birthday or
from Thursday – Friday
and other times,
when I dot my i’s cross my t’s
this little dash adds a little extra..
from – to +

For once
he asked the sun to set
to bring his own

For once,
He strummed her heartstrings
and turned her into a hymn

For once,
He dawned on her with
new colors, she couldn’t believe existed

For once,
She melted at the sight
Of a smile … a specific smile
Too beautiful for poets to describe

For once... this might turn
into
“a while”

Dawn cannot dawn sooner
with you

Now I know why I see the moon
linger till the early morn