Till you can’t walk
Till you are sore,
Yet still smiling
from the thrilling experience,
Till you are sweating pleasure
from every pore.
Till your breath murmurs
my first name with every inhale
Till my voice is the only sound
your ears need to hear.

i would
rest my head on your breast
and listen
Enjoy the sweet tunes composed by
every noted word you harmonize

Tales of your life stories before they became entwined with mine
Narratives about your dreams
About who breaks your glassy heart
And what tickles your eye-ducts
into opening a flood of tears.

an inner world of wishes
she deserves beautiful things,
The Nubian Queen,
Sunflower Child.

~ New-Black-SoUl #NBS

Sometimes tears just don't happen.
Sometimes you feel your soul crack like glass
And watch the pieces fall in glittery shards
To a floor that's as unforgiving as those who made you this way.

And I don't know what hurts more. The fact that I was no longer with you or the fact that you left me when you promised you wouldn't.

To whom this may concern,

I forgive you.
Even if you haven’t apologized just yet;
maybe you never will.
But I have held this hurt in my chest for far too long
and I don’t want this rotting away my naive heart.
I’m writing this with cathartic desperation and a patience
that only comes from being angry for so long.

I want you to notice the first sentence I wrote earlier.
“I forgive you.” Note that I did not say “it’s okay,” or “it’s all right."
There’s a distinction between what I did say and what I could have.
I said that I forgive you. When I say that,
I acknowledge that you have wronged.
You have hurt me and we both ought to recognize that.
If I’d said “it’s okay,” I would be subtly telling you that
“whatever you did, it’s okay, it’s all right.”
I didn’t say it’s okay because it’s not.
Whether or not you come to terms with it
is not my business anymore.

I hope you find yourself within these words
and make peace with yourself, and I hope
you don’t make the same mistake with another individual.

Without Wax,
Someone Whose Scabs
Have Only Recently Become Scars

*P.S. I may have forgiven you
but that does not mean that I trust you just yet.

Dear Stranger,

I hate how
these past few years
we've mutually
been reduced
to nothing more than
Facebook likes
and the annual
"Happy Birthday,
I miss you!"
But you still seem
...happy
and that
makes me wonder:
would you still be,
if I were a part
of your life?

Without wax,
Someone
Whose Phone Number
You Once Remembered

*P. S. I may not be important now
but you once told me your highest hopes
and your biggest fears.
I will always have open arms
and an open heart for you,
should you ever need them.

I’ve been chastised for writing poetry that was too angry.
I guess there is a lot of red in the world already,
why not spread some pleasant lilacs and a checked picnic blanket
and sit down for a while?
Why not quit thinking?
For just a moment?
Quit forcing the words to fall from our lips and
quit trying to speak over our friend,
Silence.
They have a lot to say.
Why not let them talk a minute?
Close our eyes.
Listen, smile, and nod.
No need to answer.
The quiet can tell when we’re paying attention,
and it meets us halfway with serenity.

I know all that emptiness
where the noise used to be
can get scary.
I know that all too well.
But it isn’t the Silence that tries to tear us apart.
They want to wrap us up in blankets of soft evening clouds
and remind us that not all is yet lost.

Look at me.
Let that sink in.
Not all is yet lost.

The stars they often wondered,
In constellations they often clustered,
Until one day they realized,
That they just found their universe.

This beautiful pattern time, space and gravity weave,
It is what is called the universe.
For everyone who looks above,
They are the centre of the universe.

For what was the end of space,
Was the begging of time,
And what emerged from a Big Bang,
Was born from a blackhole.

For what is a lifetime for us,
For him was just a moment,
The only one place we've seen is so timeless,
Imagine about the whole universe.

The invisible force they call gravity,
Even without touching it keeps everything together,
For the universe had to make up for,
The isolation that was left there somehow.

For light years those photons had traveled,
Across an infinite of solitude and emptiness,
Just so that they can create a picture,
And reflect themselves in the iris of an eye.

Everything is always in motion,
It had to expand to thrive and grow,
There is no concept of fixed in the cosmos,
For something moving so fast it's barely moving.

A mind so tiny relative to celestials,
Could think about the entire universe.
The only thing aware of its existence,
The universe is just looking for its purpose.