the observer falls
into a heavy night and
ceases to observe

finally, she has learned how to
love herself, till the sun shines
and moon comes back—
to lighten the night
the storms calm down,
waves become ceased
and the ocean is tranquil
in all chapters of her life
she has mastered the techniques
of surviving in hell

I see, breathe and
feel my heart
breaking a thousand times a day
I keep silence all through the day, the night
but when I go to sleep on my bed,
I remember each broken piece
like a still fresh bleed
Depriving me from night's peace
this is my sleep disease
All these heartaches control my night dreams
They won't cease till I cease.

Stand by me
for I am still at last
no rythm in the vein
no fog upon the glass
no light will ever dance forth
for my time becomes past.

good poetry, good poets:

you are all so o v e r confident

“ceaseless, your poetry will never cease”

<>


but the heart, the engine, the brain,
even the decrepitating body,
gives many visible warnings,
we can be done in so easily,
we can be seized.

by a tick bite, the sugar’s refusal to convert,
the minor cuts, that take months to heal,
everything small as dangerous as an artery blockage,
a single cell of an illegitimate growth,
the small easy, too purposefully ignore,
but that does not mean no registration

this, then, about me and a bud of a free-thee-well

<>

I bask in the glory
Radiated from the sun
The heat works to encompass me
In its loving embrace

Shining over the earth
Dropping and raising petals
Never stopping
Never ceasing to exist

There were gods named after her, after all.