“Once upon a time,
I fell in love
with someone
who couldn’t
love me back.

The end.”

29 | 31 Poems for August

I need conversations filled with laughter followed by bursts of love after.  
The last time I tried to recite this poem to you, I couldn’t get the words out.
I somehow couldn’t get the words right.
Slow-paced piano music gently echoes in the background.
The notes keep echoing while I try to patiently pen this down.
I am convinced, that the sun came out just to impersonate the warmth of your aura.
I’ve kept your fingerprints pressed between the pages of my favourite author’s book.
Somewhere between the prologue and chapter five.
Where the protagonist almost died but luckily stayed alive.
I wanted to become a poem, the day I realised that words could hold you, have you, touch you.
You are the stars that my night sky longs to hold.
You and I are meant to be.
Your love and laughter have liberated me.
I want to heal your wounds while carefully embracing your scars.
I know you feel broken, so let me kiss you where it hurts.
I’ll arrive to the other parts of your alluring anatomy, eventually.
Let me breathe life into you.
Let me prove to you that ecstasy is something we all need to go through.
Poetry rests on the curves of your lips, so how can I not love the meaningful things you always say?
My eyes will recite to you the poetry that is written on the pages of my heart.
I need conversations filled with laughter followed by bursts of love after.
To write about you is to keep your presence alive within the unseen parts of me.
You are the reason why my heart feels free.
Your love and laughter have liberated me.

be afraid of the sea.

not because i told you so

because you would go to the beach one day and the weather is soft and the wind blows your hair the way he never could.
and you would forget about dying.

because you will dip your toes in the blue sparkle playfully dancing up your ankle
and you would forget it would ever drown you senseless.

because the horizon will swallow the sun as you give yourself away to the briskly sand, once again allowing your skin to be bruised and wounded while you pretended it was poetry; the sky is blood and his musk is in the air and his chapped lips lands on your collarbone and you would turn away and make love with none but the wind.

*and you would forget to forget.

I can't believe I used to see you bare and fear what I saw there

I have never once liked him.
I have lusted for him, and I have desired to hurt him.

I have never once loved him,
but oh, how he has haunted me in my daydreams.

He either deserts me or envelops me at night.

I would move close to him in the early morning,
give him a solitary kiss on the forehead,
on his arm, on his chest;
wherever I felt he would let me touch without pushing my lips away.

He would grip me from behind,
roll us over and kiss me only to get inside of me.

At one point, I thought this was the same thing.

He calls me mystery, wild child, baby blue.

He is turning me into an apology of this girl.

I am baby blood lust.