i just want to see
if he texted me back.
no, no,
i don’t really care,
it’s just that
when i talk to him, it feels as though my words are finally worth something.
it’s not like i cannot go by my day without his acquaintance,
i am a writer after all,
and i am accustomed to a life where my words are disregarded.
i speak to the wind and that is okay.
but i am a writer and all i want is
for somebody to listen to my ramblings
and to understand
me.
i just want to see
if he said hello;
because yes i can get by with him not texting me back,
my rants do not always have a response
(discontinued)

History is like a mirror;
the closer you look,
the more you'll see things
that you don't want to see.
The more distorted the picture becomes.
But, if it's your history you're looking at,
the distortion offers a rare chance.
A chance to change the way
you look at your past.

It seems like everywhere you look these days, you see something
that makes you want to close your heart,
your ears, your eyes.
Though the temptation gets stronger,
you keep agreeing to try one more time.
And for that, I just want to say thank you.

you look at what you look at
i look at the stars
both essential minds of people
we are

a song of joy or sadness
traveling in time
there is a moment of dying
we are

i wondered why not
to turn around and look
i did and was

The first lesson is to be still
the next is to wait
while you look long
and listen deep
that you might love all the more.

Look at you
Looking at me too

Look at you
Love,
Beautiful and true

Look at you
with love
Radiant and pure
  
Look at you
in love
Begging for the cure

Look at you
broken
Look at you
bent  

The key to love is not in breaking,
But in how we look again.

internal seeing
is formed by external things
look around close now

i scroll through the contacts on my phone
and realise there is no one i can call
nobody i can text
people ive had for 7 years
maybe more
their care for me has gone void
and i can sense it
can't you see?
it's all superficial  
every conversation
every look
it is all superficial
and i can blame anyone and anything for it
but none of that will change the truth and none of it
will gift me a new outcome

so now i sit alone
in a void room and i wonder
who will notice
who will care
when i am all but gone

for they will notice when i take my last breath
but nobody notices the moments before
not from afar

yesterday
in blurry sight I discerned
the shape of your face-
an ink kissed by a drop of water-
and I thought I cloud draw you
a thousand times

today
I woke up and you weren’t here
and I thought I’d rather look at you
a thousand more