The sunset sparkles on the seas here
And the wildlife is lush and diverse
The origin of species lies here
Encoded in the smallest of birds
The tortoise knows where he is going
He knows his place among the island
I have found true peace in these beaches
And my history amongst the bright sand
I can feel the entire world here

She ran to a land of summer and pink kimonos,
Where nurse sharks circled her ankles
And familiar familial flaws faded to vague memories of leather scented hugs.
She learned to walk dusty streets in bare feet, so she could hold the world in her toes,
Leaving crumpled dollars in the hands of beggars
Who saw her light skin as gold.
The cherry trees bathed her in petals soft enough to erase the scars that faded in the sun,
She learnt to run with her hair down and to eat kneeling at a table,
Rearranged her mind with the art of Feng Shui in an attempt to find a way to live away from the dictatorship of the past,
Collecting porous pebbles and lighting candles encircled in jade,
As old leather scents fade to incense and jasmine.
She strings lost stone on a necklace of wood and measures her life in the breaths to come instead of those she has taken.
Her heartbeat beats irregularly but no longer from fear and now adrenaline is synonymous with exhilaration.
And she holds sand in her palms,
No longer scrabbling to catch it as it falls through her fingers,
She now knows that life occurs between her hand and the ground.
She broke the hourglass because she no longer counts the hours
Or clings to the time that is gone.
She lives eternal and bright,
Clothed in sunlight
And a pink kimono.

I could feel the words under my skin
And I scratched them out
And I was bleeding poetry,
And you were frantically sewing my wounds together with your words-
We were leaking poetry
And they collected our words and cut and pasted and cut and pasted
And now others are clicking to my blood and unravelling your stitches
And now our words don't reach our lips
Our words are leaking out of us,
I can't articulate in prose anymore
And my words cease to mean anything if they aren't metaphor upon simile upon connotation and implication
And now others are clicking to my thoughts,
Absorbing them before I can, understanding me before I can
And I am crying haikus
The silver trails here
Do not mean what they used to
They are not enough
And I am exhaling extended metaphors
And my breath is something else
My lungs hold comparisons
And they do not taste sweet like air
We are unravelling under the spotlight,
Loose threads are left strewn across an open mic night,
Swept up when light reveals our poetry to be rags and tattered cotton,
The threads are gathered and remade into a gift for someone else
And we are left empty and naked.
But we will keep bleeding for the crowd-
It is what we live for.

Soon the sky will be painted in long strokes of sunlight that fade to night,
And the Sun will retreat below the horizon,
Slipping under in its predictable submersion,
And we used to be afraid of the dark that follows,
But now we are not.
And now we have grown strong enough to ward off darkness with thoughts of
Sunlight.
Sunlight and sunshine,
And the rays that bounced off my eyes into yours,
Binding us.
Together we have learnt how to see through to the next dawn,
Through each other we have learnt how to find our light in another's eyes.
And now, Sunset is coming,
And we know that darkness will follow,
But I am no longer afraid.

There is a distinct sense of rising panic,
It pushes against my bones, my ribs, my heart.
I was led to believe the last breath is quick,
But it seems that Time has fought to play his part.
Till the flame brings the candle down to the wick,
Till the artist paints himself into the art.
The wind will still blow and the bells will still chime,
But still tied to his word, Death will follow Time.

I am three parts undone,
Holding onto the last link,
Trying to put myself back together again,
Trying to keep hold of the pieces that flutter in the persistent snarl of the wind.
Don't forget me
It's already so hard.
With every support that drops I feel my world crumble all over again,
Like the salt mountains that form on my tear stained cheeks,
When you leave don't let go
Too many people let go.
And now I'm swaying on my feet,
This skin is too brittle to bend in the storm,
I grow tired,
And my fingers are slipping.
I watch as what I am floats away to something more,
While I am left with all that I was,
Don't forget me
It's already too hard.
All that remains is the soft breath on which my name is whispered
Whisper me in pastels,
With soft lines and gentle blends,
Let me fade into the symphony like an afterthought the composer forgot to erase.
Let me dance on your breaths,
Let me let go-
I won't forget you.