yellow flowers sang
on our every* stroll
ultimately forgetting to say hello
refusing to advise or even bo*w

2015, April 19

I see angels crying
overwhelmed by joy
as they bask in the glow
of my memories

I see demons dancing
trapped in obscure visions
bodies swaying to the rhythm
of my sorrow

I see life as it is
not as it should be
all is well

i want to make love to you with my words
whispered temptations floating from my lips
to the hidden crevasses of yours ears, tickling.
your low gentle groans licking the fire at my pulse.
i'll drag my nails across the smooth
marble of your back and remind you how
very **** seductive you are, you're irresistible.
kiss the plunge between your thighs and
utter your name a thousand times as I
hold you close to me, closer now.
i'll rub myself delicious as i remind you
that i'm the very best you're going to get,
love.
with an arched back and scathing tongue i'll
demand you to take my flesh in you hands and
make love to it like only hands can
while my words are the only part of me touching
every single part of you.
i want to make love to you
like only lovers can and lovers do;
with words.

Regret,
Lingers like the taste of an old cigarette.
Regret,
The one thing you'll never let yourself forget.

So many posts, so many poets, all with so much to say:
From depression to elation, amusement or anger,
Face happy melancholy on a lonely nostalgia,
For ridiculous notions of false power, ugly truths
and beauty which scours
a battle between angst
and acceptance in their most forlorn hours, spent
at home or away, throughout night or day, so many words
struggling to capture, release or keep at bay
these things we all feel everyday.

Sometimes I just don't know what to say
so I let another's words give my thoughts away:
"I guess I could be pretty ******* about what happened to me, but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world.
Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much.
My heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst;
And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I can't feel anything but gratitude
for every single moment of my stupid little life."
That's all I didn't have to say.

So I’ll tell you why I write.
I write because I’m the protagonist of my own stories.
I write because in my stories, I solve the problems that invariably creep up between people and I
In the most heroic ways possible
I write because in my world,
Not every rainbow ends in a *** of gold
But sliding across its multicolour will be the happiest memory in your mind
I write because my stories are clouds that do have real silver linings
I write because 3 am is time for chai, and childhood stories
Impromptu bike rides to greet the sleeping night
But all I can do is write.
I write because I’m angry and frustrated but
you asked me not to turn my anguish onto my body
and leave battle scars for the world to question -
so I write instead.
I write because sometimes,
the tumult in my head comes from
words that are struggling to spill forth from my brain
and stain empty pages with their loud meaning.
I write because
Writing is the only way I have to make sense
of this messy world we live in.