Together for a year, I thought I’d make my move,
But our first fight shook the groove.
You said, "It’s fine if we don’t talk anymore,
I’m fine without you," repeating it more.

This aggression, it stings, it stays,
Are you fine—or just fading away?

A life to others that may seem like fiction,
My own story ‘the great contradiction!’
I’m full up yet empty at the same time.
I’m treading water yet towing the line.
A soul full of tears and a smile on my face.
Time’s dragging by at an incredible pace.
I know where I am yet I’m totally lost.
All that is free comes with such cost.
I’m straight as a dye yet can’t unwind.
I know where it is yet unable to find.
When I let go,I hold on tight.
Getting it wrong when I’m doing it right!
Looking for answers,I already hold.
Blowing hot when I’m feeling cold.
When everyone’s here,I’m all alone.
Finding I’m reaping what others have sown
So there you have it ,the contradiction that’s me.
Adding more chains when i try to break free!

Mom says I’ve gotten colder with the years,
But weirdly, I’m flooded with emotions.
And somehow, the big sobs in my childhood bed
Can’t compare to the stray tears that fall from my adult eyes.
My feelings have grown with my body,
But have also been shoved in it,
Engraved in my soul,
Yet still, not in my words.
Maybe I’ve grown accustomed to that shell—
It feels safe,
It gives comfort,
More so when vulnerability feels like punishment,
Opening up, like a crime.
And when burying it all gives relief,
Temporary or not,
Fighting still feels better than giving in.

if I swallowed a piece of fire to light up these lungs, and spoke life
into another’s life with the fire in these words; how wonderful would
that be? even now as I am – the echo of bones waiting to grow old;
feeling like the silence of an empty channel in a car radio – my heart
is often static when it rubs against another; in these electrifying
feelings of love

and much like a tyre running a track – sometimes I need to find a
place to rest, to try and reinflate myself. my lips have become a
clutch, of knowing when to shift conversations when they start to feel
a bit too awkward for me. and my means of a first impression, is one
to impress well enough for them to say, “that’s a man who I deserve,”
yet ironically, I can sing how beautiful I am, feeling so ugly inside –
and hoping I never lose myself to myself

still, look at me, I am unique – such words I must speak for a piece of
peace; knowing that I’m sometimes torn, yet I wear the attire of my
heart. being distant in the humming silence, praying for a mindful
heart, to remember what’s it beating for. for even in the less of myself,
I was created, to be more.

I thought you were an ally,
but walls divide, and I

don’t see a way around
this tonight.

You can’t avoid the fallout,
because being dead inside

isn’t a good reason
to sidestep

when you told
all those lies.

Just look me
in the eyes,

tell me it was worth
bleeding what was left of me

one last time.

I know there’s
the devil in the details,
but as far as I can tell,

I’m over it, and
I’m done seeing red.

Live your own
life in sin,

because I won’t live
my life with your regrets.

Regret melts slow,
dripping from the side.
It feels like skin being tugged against,
the impression left from
my hand to yours.
The anticipation of being patient
burns and flickers,
excitedly proud to be included.

Your back, the wick that stands straight,
slowly curving,
stretching, releasing tension.
Your legs wrapped in mine.
If you were to blow too hard,
the flame would whoosh,
leaving nothing but a puddle.
The people we were
staring, looking at the mess.

The rest of my strength
supports your arch,
the curled wick that's grown tired
against my chest.
No matter how you lay,
I am comfortable in your wild stretch.
Sleep surrounding both of us—
I have your back, your heart.
The crisp edges of your hair tangled
On my head

The smoke of desire soots and breathes,
dried in a puddle of wax

i stay out of it more than i used to,
painting pictures on a metaphorical canvas.
anything is possible if i want to
find something that catches on,
leave everything else that matters
and turn away from it all.

i have great conversations with myself,
drawing memories like a string to wrap and tighten.
i live and die keeping it to myself
with every thought that spills through
like gasoline, begging for a lighter.
i stay out of it more than i used to.

One day, you'll calm down,
Look back on your story as if through a stranger's eyes.
A quiet smile will escape, a gentle shake of the head—
Life, after all, is but a fleeting dream.

Someday, you'll release today’s struggles,
With only a whisper of regret in the air.
Clarity will dawn, illusions will fade,
And the weight of the world will dissolve in stillness.

In that moment, you'll find the truth—
Not in gaining, nor in losing,
But in the quiet harmony of a peaceful heart.

Call it women’s intuition—
but she knows the power of silence,
how to bend you to her will,
whether she’s calm or not.
Eventually, you’ll crack,
if given enough time.
Trying to figure out what’s wrong,
following her from room to room,
asking question after question—
whether you’re crazy now
or crazy later,
it’s soon to happen.
Oddly enough,
the various cigarette and liquor companies
profit from her silence—
the way, even at your best,
it still finds a way to get your attention.
Even if you manage to block her out,
bringing it up at another time is just an argument.
It’s best to take a minute and get yourself together.
no matter what you do.
You can’t trust the way she stares,
you can’t trust the way she laughs.
It’s all a trap.
You won’t realize it until it’s too late.
Through her messiness,
through her beauty,
through her chaos,
She just wants to see how you’ll react,
if you’ll reach for her,
even when she’s right in front of you