a hybrid soul,
one to blend like watercolour
paintworks into the social canvas,
boys would stare,
at the star, gone dying, who knew
spotlights illuminate
the pretty parts,
the hips and the mannequin calves.
until the sun dimmers, like gods
dipped lantern burnt out,
and bodies are stripped like birds
of their feathers, plucked to glaring
scars and worn out faces peer
into the mirror - who is the ugliest
of them all.

they called her by names,
prettier than her own,
until she trembled into the
valley of the dolls, a dark and dismal
place with discarded arms and legs,
to build the perfect 'woman' -
a vulnerable creature, made to
be loved, to be wanted.

sometimes boys will whisper  
i love you's too quickly
and you, anon, will believe them
with your gentle heart, and
capacity to believe in miracles.

sometimes the first guy isn't
the only one,
sometimes you didn't like him
to begin with and that's okay.
i know you wish it was that easy.

people say to look for love
in all places, but love likes to hide
in the nooks of bookcases,
in cars parked under trees,
in his reflection in the rear mirror
as he glances to see you
walk past with your heels too high,
and smile too giddy.

but that wasn't love.
love is mutually shared.

sometimes you fall in love
and it will hurt worse than that time
you broke your wrist.
you will shake with tremors
of madness and you will
remember his name.

it's like hearing a song
you haven't listened to in years.
something jogs your memory
and you still remember the lyrics.
you will list his hobbies,
his favourite colour, with
perfect memory.

anon, you keep finding love,
and you keep losing it,

but be patient, please.
when you are ready
tell love to come another day.

my mother always said
"don't fall in love with a poet"
they pretend to love you
but what they really love
is writing about loving you
you are mere words to them
feelings cheapened by a page,
dusty grey typewriters,
and many unfinished drafts
of lovers both old and new,
you are the question mark,
but not the answer,
they are searching for ?
person unidentified: mystery
the page wanderer,
each poem a missing
person poster to cover their
bedroom walls.
they cannot love something
that is in their head
poets are the loneliest of
all people, my mother said.
they write to immortalize
what has long passed.
to live within their words,
but not reality,
lost souls writing suicide notes
and proclaiming it art.

I can't say I have many friends,
So I glued faces to my ink pens.
They lend me words where people fall short
And sort these emotions to thoughts I've absorbed, see.
I've become rather smitten with comments that are written
Because while the pen is mightier than the sword
It's my teeth to my tongue I have bitten
So while my words remain sitting in front of my screen
I reread and delete them and make them more terrific for an audience to read.
Still I over think causing my thoughts to seep and the ink still bleeds.
But I'm getting ditracted, this is about my friends, the pens, not me.

Mr. Bic writes quick with his thoughts in a rush
And Sharpie goes deep but tends to make my words gush
Uniball  makes my mind think unclearly
as my hand runs across making words all smeary
Lastly, a rainbow gel pen who is such an old friend,
Her name was lost long ago.
They are flawed by their nature,
Still they remain the closest friends I know.

sometimes I forget
that I am ish
as one of the sun frowning commuters
I think in their language
then every once in a mile
a rozmowa comes and
as I forget the ish words equivalents
as i stumble upon the grammar
I realise I'm a universal foreigner
of too many heimats

How do you greet a stranger,
With a simple hello
or with a loving hug

How do you treat a former friend,
Bringing up ancient memories
or creating new ones

Well
It's been a while

How's Everything been?
Are things better now
or are you still struggling?

How do you say your farewell
With a simple goodbye
or with a light kiss and teary Eyes

I hope you are okay
or at least that you are still hoping
For that happy ending

Well
it's been a while

I'm still here
I still Believe in you
I hope you do too

I got there crying.
You took me in your arms asking

Honey what's wrong
What's wrong
I'm here talk to me
Sweetheart what's going on


My tears were suffocating me
I couldn't speak the words

You gave me a kiss on the forehead
Honey what's wrong
Tell me what's going on
Hugging me tightly

My body wasn't still
I was shaking

You let me cry still holding me
How can I help
Is there anything I can do
What's wrong

I love you
But I want to breakup

You let go of me
You just stare at me
No no no no no
You start crying

That's how I ended it
How I killed what used to be us