Our poems are fabrics

knit with the dreams inside
laid out in the open
so may a passing eye
grant a glance

a pausing mind
decides for a fleeting moment
to wear

thinking them their own.

hug me,
so that I'll stop
hurting myself.

hug me,
so that I'll live
another great day.

hug me,
so that I'll stop
being so stubborn.

hug me,
so that I'll be all
warm-up in the holidays.

hug me,
so that I'll stop being
so lonely inside-out.

just hug me,
so I can stay happy...

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

When I was so confused on what to do,
where were you?

When I was so **** broken,
where were you?

When I was so sad,
where were you?

I guess I was so **** independent
that you didn't see
I needed someone for me
who will say,
you'll be okay,
it will be fine,
life is just built that way
for you to learn
and adapt.
Well, good news,
i learn it that way...
So I was okay.
I grow up good
and well adapted...

Now that I've think about it,
nobody has really gone deeper
to my "I'm okay, I'm good.".
No one bothers really,
they take my silences
as fine I guess...

big sigh...