5 | 31 Poems for August 2017

I’ve become well-acquainted with these streets – from University Road all the way down to Park Street.
My heart skips a beat when my words touch hearts like Alex Panttiere and that’s why these hands keep writing.
You left without saying goodbye, you could’ve at least told me why.
You easily detached yourself like there were no feelings between us.
Like I didn’t love you hard enough, soft enough or even warm enough.
For weeks on end, I began hating you for leaving me the way you did.
Yet here I am writing all these words and somehow still missing you.
I’m slowly finding my way back to myself again no matter how severe the pain.
I’ll pick myself up and finally find the strength and courage to love again.
Maybe in your quiet time at exactly the right time, I can be your true valentine.
Sometimes jacarandas fall with no intention of lighting up the streets with their purple blooms again.

4 | 31 Poems for August 2017

Stories about how the girl I was crushing on crushed my feelings.
Stories about how I dug my own grave right after the masquerade.
Are diamonds still forever if whoever you pictured spending your eternity with isn’t the one you’re committed to?
Before she puts the blame on me just let her know that I was committed too.
Detachment is something she was always good at and I still do not know why she let me go.
My poetry was never meant to be this revealing – I’m gradually letting go of all my past demons.
I was wrong when I thought I’d always be supported by the people I believe in.
I should just call it quits and stop seeing the good in people – it drives me crazy having this much of a loving heart.
Are diamonds still forever if whoever you pictured spending your eternity with isn’t the one you’re committed to?
We should’ve done this a long time ago – we should’ve stopped wasting our relationship on building a relationship.
Detachment has become the only way to cope, I’m hanging by a thread and I hope no one cuts the rope.

Ego is full of words
Peace is speechless
It has nothing to prove
It accepts pain with a smile
And thanks the Earth
For the gift of feeling

I am a demon
I am my wicked thoughts

An anarchist to everything
Pure, simple and true.

I clean my teeth with your despair
destroy your dreams with one simple laugh
I can twist your words like curls around a finger

and yet
I am my own demon picking at my own voices
hoping they would crack and bleed
just another ant on the surface or a zero in binary code
craving to be something honest
maybe even simple
up high on the mountains with delicate, glass bones
I want to cause celebration from my own destruction.

winter sky
the passing road, unshaded--up
lids falling