Sometimes clouds
Sometimes rain

Sometimes a little gray
to wash away
the inhumane

When we chance
upon each other
years later,
you will ask me

          do you still write?

and I will answer

           of course I do.

you took my heart
with you when you left,
not my hands.

In times where reality
is restricted and numb,
virtual spaces become
the commonality.

these days, shining a light
In the darkness
Is harder than it sounds.
But don't give up.
There are still people
Looking to be found

How many blades
Do I need
To sever these connections?

Or are they just too strong
To accept severance
By mortal blades?

Dream your life in watercolours,
Live your life in oils,
Frame your canvases with time and distance;

Hang each by a silver thread,
In a windowed gallery of memories,
Exhibit often and without discrimination;

Celebrate the beauty in your clumsiest brushwork,
Accept the imperfections in your mastery,
Reshape your truths, as light plays and colour transforms.

“I won’t lose you,” I say
as you slide through my fingers and fade away..

emotions
sat heavily on my chest
squeezing my heart
and burning my head

so i piled three pillows
on top of one another
and tried to scream
the emotions out

nothing changed
except that now
my throat hurts and
my pillows are concerned

so i laughed
at my failed attempt
and wrote a poem about it

29.04.20

Being a poet
is both a pain and a privilege.

All you do is
bleed your emotions
on a thousand pages
while people sing your praises
for ages.