Irrespective of my irrational thoughts,
my bulging clot,
nothing can take away
anything away from my slot
it's still there within me,
whatever explored,
and whatever still unexplored,
I am therefore,
telling everyone,
I'll build my own plot
whether on grave or inside cave,
and with that,
I'll save my heart
and I'll become brave with this new start.

Sit beside my bed
Sit beside my bed
Before my breath starts counting to naught
One more last time
For many lives to come
Let our eyes meet once again to love
Before they part..

Let me once more smell the fragrance of you
The fragrance which I adore to keep
My breath will take the last smell and go
Along with it your memories will flow

Let me once more touch your wrinkled fingers
Once so soft like a wet rose petal
Smothered in roses under the grave
Those rubbing fingers alone will stay.

Let my heart again melt on your heat
The heat once covered me in vile winter colds
The warmth of your hugs and kisses of dew
Will fly with me to the heaven high.

While last slanting rays glaring my eyes
Sit beside my bed
Sit beside my bed..

There is an imprint of a frog on my back
From a poem by Mary Oliver.
It is sticky sweat oozing down my spine,
Leaking into the small of my back
Screaming, "You do not have to be good."
My own skin whispers back,
"But don't I?" and sears the grime.
I don't know what to do with my own badness.
Punishment for my "sins" seems necessary,
But so does radical acceptance.
All I can do is close my eyes,
Hoping for a better tomorrow where
My brain requires less dopamine
And more compassion.
Slowly I will rise from the grave I dig once a night.
I will claw my way out by my fingers
And into the light.
Shame that no one will be near
To see the resurrection.

I visit graves once and lay flowers, then leave
I lay flowers on the grave of fireflies
Where once a light so bright, shined
I lay flowers on the grave of butterflies
Where wings once flapped and swayed
I lay them on the graves of children
Where warm laughters once echoed

But I came across the grave of your heart
And instead of leaving flowers,
I planted the seed of my heart
Seeds of spring, warmth, and hope
It was the only grave I ever came back to

Grave visitors are forbidden to visit again
More so, they are forbidden to plant
But I visited yours everyday and never missed
I tended the seed that I planted
When graves are watered with rain and love
Will the light pass through the cracks?
Would roses bloom on hearts that died?

Roses bloomed, and my time has come
While you thrive, I'll vanish as a punishment
For the grave visitor laid his heart for love
Perhaps, my darling, in another life
I wouldn't have to die to bring back life to you

I’m all out of midnight phone calls and wilted rose petals.

I’m all out of throwing out letters out of windows and building cathedrals of sand.

I’m all out of the avalanche of goosebumps your touch caused.


I yearn stillness now.
I yearn indifference.
I yearn to keep my head above the water now.


And so, your eyes are graveyards and I bury all words unsaid.

Do you know how it feels?

What it feels like to be more than 6 feet under?

Being so far under, you would think that thunder would never occur.



A feeling so bad, that it suffocates you.

Shocks you, completely liberates you.



Your screams never fill the air, only your mind to keep you occupied.

People think you're to quiet, when really everything irritates you.

Everything becomes heightened for someone so far down.



The voices you hear, the random smells, people walking and you think they have their eyes upon you.

But they don't...

Remember; you're more than 6 feet under?



Believing the dirt surrounding you is the only friend you have.

It keeps you warm and absorbs your tears.

It has been keeping you alive...



You can't see it, except for others.

There are flowers sitting right on top of your grave.

No one put them there, except for you.



Because the ground absorbed you and your tears.

This is its way of showing gratitude.



No one can pick them up, except for you.

Its nice to hear children laugh.
Not until its 1am.
my kid always disturb me with laughter
not but at the mid of night.
i went to her grave to beg her.
Neither will she listen to my apologies.