I've never been good at
Being touched.

Though the fingers
Of endless suitors
Have traced incomparable
Lines of affection,
They all stroke
The same wounds.

New hands feel like
Recycled lullabies,
Humming promises
Of a new melody,
Singing a remedy for
My impassivity.

Whether words fall
Passionate or
Fearful,
Endearment lines my lips
With an expiration
Long enough to convince me,
But short enough to leave me.

Reminding me:
The disintegration of
Indifference
Remains
My prerequisite
For destruction.

So before you
Touch me with
Promises of a new
Orchestration,
I'm already marking the
Days until you leave.

Because my skin
Is tired of
Intruders hidden
Behind momentary
Infatuation.

So keep your hands to yourself.

now
i'm not speaking for everyone
just the ones
who are like me

it's not masochism
neither is it psychotic
but the pain we love
and the love we pain

for pain brings us
to new levels of understanding (the self, others)
to greater heights of seeing (the self, others)
to lower grounds with (the self, others)

p a i n
the dreaded four lettered word
l o v e
another dread in another day

the immeasurable love
that brings us
immeasurable pain
and yet we throw ourselves in

for what more can pain/love do
except to make you feel
                                          ...pain?

Upon the waves there's being surfed,
And at cafes delights are served,
While the orange sun shares a ray,
At the end of the glowing day.

A summertime sadness and glee,
Is played alongside of the sea,
Who is rosy, pink as the sky,
As the beautiful waves pass by.

I stole a heart today
so what
mine was stolen
a very long time ago
and no one cared
so what should I do
about that heart
which now lies
in the pocket
of my little shorts
gathering dust
maybe I could replace
the black hole
inside my chest
where my stolen heart
used to be
but then again
I thought
how now there was
someone just like me
with a hole in their chest
and they will have to
steal their own heart
to fill the void
just like I will now
that's the circle of life
I guess

my heart flutters at
the way she speaks my name.
"lover", she hums,
and i watch speechless as woebegone
drips from her lips. she
tastes like moonlight
when she kisses me. fragile.
unknown. known.
when our bodies meet
i can't imagine living life any
differently than this;
magnetism draws me closer and
i am intoxicated and sobered and
and i let my fingers
trace symphonies over her skin
love songs and love letters
and the lust of
knowing that this is belonging.
we fold into each other
and it is inevitable. i want to
learn her, learn
every part of her, as if
it's what my soul was sent to do;
her heartbeat weaves a
gossamer of beauty and
she leaves it in the crease of my
neck. "lover".
lightworker. twinflame.
architect of this home, these
two arms that sing safety
into rose quartz bones.
this is harmony.
i release a held breath and
whisper back, "always".
this is my promise.

Fights, terror, bomb blasts
The deafening sirens forever lasts
In the hearts and souls of many
Who confront such hurtful journey
Each day living and dying
Running to save lives, trying
But the inhumane are ******
Polished by government, well toned
How long will this war last?
How many more humans will fast?
With no food or water to feed
The women and children in need
News flash in on different channels
As media handsover the control panels
In the hands of those behind the curtains
Laying out the corrupt media patterns
I often get sad and wonder,
Why should we only "Rest In Peace"
Why can't we all live in Peace too!!

©sim

Searching is not an option.

It's not about the motion..

A thought of obligation

When the search is over..

That's the time we takeover..

There is no gameover

Winning is not the only goal.

Maybe sometimes, you need to lose it all..

Life is not only running but to learn how to crawl..