Love doesn't always
end like we planned;
it could be tragic,
sometimes messed up
but when you're with me,
I know that the future held our story
like the way we wrote,
like the way we thought.

I want to say I know how I feel

But to be honest I have no ******* clue

Am I happy or sad? Am I green or blue?

oh how I wish I knew

What triggered this?

I don't know

But maybe it’s ok if I don’t

Do I always have to know?

I don't know

And I think its ok to not know

Because I feel like it’s bigger than me

feelings, emotions, love, hate, jazbadi, barbadi

Sure I feel them, and sometimes I recognize them too

But all of these things are beyond me, and my current body

that this soul has wanted to reside in this time

i wonder….

Do I get to claim the body or the soul?

Which one is truly mine?

i guess it depends

Who is I?

The body or the soul?

maybe I am the emotions themselves

Maybe I am the feelings that arise when the soul and this body align

Am I the electricity that runs through this body when it feels exhilarated  

Am I the feeling of warmth when a loved one gives this body a hug

Or am I the rage that causes this body to feel like it wants to explode

Possibly, am I the boulder that sits on the heart of this body when saddened

i am all of those feelings and more

I am THIS soul that chose THIS body at THIS time of space continuum  

But what I can’t say is why? because That’s someone else’s job

Thank god, because Lord knows this job is no joke

what I can say is whoever is doing all of this, thank you… thank you so much

For letting this soul experience the closest thing to magic there is… INSANIYAT

too good to be true,
sensations i feel with you.
save me, i beg you.

“I feel numb”
oxymoron
You don’t feel numb
You are numb
Who broke you so many times you feel nothing?

I'm just so addicted to the feeling of feeling. Of wishing for something more because this can't be it. I want fireworks, smiles that stops the heart, the softest touch of your hand against my waist, explosions and gasps saying all that our mouths can't say when we're breathing in each other. I want a love that you can really feel, that you can touch. I want eyes talking, staring hungrily at me like they just can't have enough. Kisses adoring every inch of my body and you grabbing my hips because you just need me closer to you. I want that. Even if it's just in my head, I want it. So I stay dreaming all my awaken time, knocking me over to feel something more than this nothingness, turning me inside out to find a new angle where I might meet you. Through movies, books, even my own texts. Because I need to feel it to soften this longing. I need to feel like there's something more waiting for me than just these ordinary emotions, this neutral life.

There's more than what meets the eye
Brittle grass a sign of change
Speaking words that sound good
With their underlying reason.

We all come to a point in our lives,
Where we meet that divide in the woods.
And must make the choice
Of following the path we have had paved for us
Or going deeper into that silent wood
To make our own path in the sticks and stones
And jicama wire.

The latter means nothing
But it sounds good on the tongue
Vibrating in the mouth
And filling the air in front of you.
Saying once more
Jicama wire.

It rolls off the tongue so nicely
And that is what poetry is
An expression of existence
A philosophical realization of the now
And of being.

We write words that may or may not have meaning
And on paper we convey our inner feelings
As best we can, to understand them
For they are in an ancient language
We have long forgotten,
Remembered and understood only in our understanding
Of the now.

So say what feels good,
Choose what path in that wood
Language long lost
Now filling the air around you
As you read the words aloud
And find pleasure
In jicama wire

I have written poetries
for as many as I could remember
for people I once loved before
and those who came before you
I used to think that
it's a tribute to turn them into poetries
since I couldn't have them anymore
any other way in my life

At least, I think to myself
I could find a piece of them
inbetween spaces in my poetries
whenever my heart longs for them

Now that I met you
my arms are shaking, trembling
for I couldn't imagine there comes a day
I'd write something about you
because for once after a long journey
I'd give up everything
to turn something as beautiful as poetry
into reality; that is you

if you cannot love me
when it’s 11 in the morning
and i am sitting barefaced
cross legged on the floor
my mother’s old t-shirt hanging off my shoulders
papers spread out in front of me
ink stained on my fingertips
a half eaten blueberry muffin in my lap
stress seeping out of me

don’t tell me you love me

if you only love me
when it’s after midnight
and my body is under your sheets
my lingerie is on your nightstand
my mouth tastes like **** and peppermint tea
and all the right words are coming out of it

it’s not love at all