My sister made
A little rainbow out of clay,
It sits on my desk;
I look at it every day
Though its colours did fade.
It reminds
Me,
It’s just a matter of time
Before I’ll be able to see
The dust, the grey on everyone’s
Face, as if they’ve misplaced
Their joy and fun.
Still, I’ll wish that my
Rainbow will look Age in the eye,
And just have a good laugh.
My colours will stand
Through every wash, by machine or hand.
Air
Won’t be whitening my hair.

the bath soap scent from my childhood.
the one my mother
would bring home every sunday;
for me to wash but never feel clean.
it stings,
but no longer seeps into cuts like antiseptic.
it smells like sorrow,
loneliness, and pain
yet the scent on my skin doesn’t make me sad.
i think of the girl and what the girl would think of me.
how far we’ve come;
and how we share the same scent on older skin.

When you were younger,
maybe you were told to hold your tongue,
hold your breath until you got older.
But now that you're here,
now that you've figured out how
and when to say what you want to say, someone has given you the same advice.
So once again, you hold your breath,
even though it hurts and scares you.
And now, you wonder "what's next?"
Now, I'm going to be the one giving advice:
if you want to be confident, independent,
and able to stand up for yourself,
understand that you're the only one
who can give you permission to breathe,
and you've earned it.

Beneath the canvas of the starlit sky,
A beacon burns, a lullaby.
Through shadows cast, a tale unfolds,
Of a love more precious than gold.

In shadows interlaced, the glow would sing,
A celestial whisper, a familiar wing.
I'd stray at times, chasing the day's fleeting gleam,
Questioning the light, like a forgotten dream.

Resentment clung to the flickering light,
As if returning home was a surrender to night.
In my heart, a whisper of pride,
Home meant I hadn't soared wide.

Through the years, the light reframes,
No longer a symbol of forgotten aims.
Like moth to a flame, I’d circle back,
To a hearth that murmured, a quiet track.

Now, the light's not a sign, not a line in the sand,
But a soft place to land, in an unknown land.
A sanctuary, a heartbeat, a welcoming roam,
In the cadence of shadows, I find my home.

The door swings wide with a creak and a sigh,
A refuge awaits, where tears can dry.
So, as I wander life's unknown,
The light guides me back, a beacon of home.

My youth has passed me in a hurry.

It feels like yesterday I was 20 and still living with my best friends hanging pop punk flags on the walls of our first apartment together.

It feels like I was just 21 and my friends surprised me with a party and we drank until we passed out and sang karaoke like never before.

I’m sure I was just 22 or 23 and I was dating someone I hated with a passion while still crying over you.

But wait I know 24 and 25 are around the corner and it’s my first time moving out of my hometown and I want so badly to love you again but I’m ready to find myself first.

Ans 26 and 27 came in a flash- I’m living with my friends again, I’m traveling and I’m moving back home to find a different version of me again.

28 I was starting to be ready to settle down and you weren’t around anymore but I was getting used to that for once. I was living alone again and loving every moment of it. I was hiking every weekend, day drinking and starting my photography business.

And then 29 came and he came into my life without me even knowing and showed me a love I didn’t know I could have. We travelled and loved and dreamed.

And my youth passed me by, 30 and 31 have already gone with a flash. I’m getting a little more scared of the future. I’m seeing the fragile way of  life with my family and my friends.
People get older, loved ones pass on and memories fade softly.

In my 32nd year and I wonder what’s next for my grown up years ?

i am an unwilling passenger
upon the vessel of time