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

Can you untie
the knots—
when nothing’s broken?

Everything lingers,
still,
held in deep slumber.

And then it arrives:
the rains of July,
shattering silence,
demanding reckoning.

Has it come to this?
Seas unraveling,
moons collapsing,
the sun rising
to an empty bed.

Has it drifted so far?
Rivers swallowed by dust,
mountains falling to ash,
no one left
to witness
the purple skies.

A solitary world,
silent,
its shadows long,
waiting
to be forgotten.

A bird
With feathers
Deeper than the red
Of blood
Watched me from a distance
As I was playing
in the mud

only things true
are love and death
and loveless people don't die
they simply disappear

The scars of battle,
The Wounds of War,
Fallen warriors bleed
A river to red

But when a man
Is hurt, not by swords
But by consequences
Of love, of life

It's not blood that pours,
But tears of ink
Into the crumbled tapestry
Of a poet's heart