be gentle with us
or don’t.
the stars still fall without permission.

but if you must touch us
touch slow.
for we are poets,
woven from breathless skies
and midnight trembles.

we feel too deeply,
like a violin played in a burning cathedral.
it is not a fault
only a fire
that never learned silence.

we do not fall in love,
we crash.
like galaxies meeting at full speed.
we love like we are dying,
we live like we are fading,
but in our minds
we fly barefoot across constellations.

our hearts
are black roses
growing among the red
soft to the gaze,
sharp to the soul.

you will not see it in our steps
or in the way we drink our tea.
but we are stained glass
already cracked
still catching the light.
and if you press too hard,
we will bleed beauty.

a poet is not always seen
sometimes just a smile in the corner
a sigh in the crowd.
we are everywhere,
soft and wild.

we tell stories
so the silence doesn’t win.
we wear masks
not to hide
but to protect the soft
from the cruel.

we notice the things you forget.
the chipped cup.
the tremble in your laugh.
the way sorrow dresses like strength.

and when we love
we love your entire world.
not just your name
but the way it sits in our lungs.
not just your eyes
but the way they flinch when the past whispers.

we adore the broken
shards glinting red
like stained mirrors
still daring to reflect stars.

we have kissed the devil
with trembling mouths,
left pieces of our soul
in places no light touched
and still returned.

we are fragile
yes
but not weak.
our hearts are ruins and gardens
at once.

so if you come close
come gently.

because when we hurt
we hurt in verses.
and when we fall
we don’t land.
we become.

so this is your only warning,
written in blood and ink:

be gentle with us.
or
watch the beauty bleed.

be gentle with us
please.
or don’t.
it is, after all,
your choice.

but know this

we, the poets,
are not built like the rest.
we are the black rose
among gardens of red
too rare,
too delicate,
too dangerous.

we feel with the whole sky.
we love like the sun
is seconds from setting.
we fall,
not softly
but all at once,
like shattered stars
scattering over wounds.

we live small
but think wide.
in our minds,
we are always flying
between memories
and make-believe,
between hurt
and hope.

don’t be deceived
by calm faces.
we wear masks
stitched from poems
and laughter
but behind them
we are velvet chaos,
quiet storms
with bleeding edges.

we, too,
have danced with devils
and kissed pain
like it was wine.
we return
from places
we cannot name
but we carry the fire
in our chests.

a poet could be anyone
walking beside you
a poet could be everyone
breaking silently

we collect fragments
glances,
murmurs,
empty chairs.
we see beauty
in undone hair,
in chipped teacups,
in rain that ruins plans.

and love
when we love,
we don’t stop at skin.
we fall into souls.
into scars.
into shadows.

and when we’re hurt,
we trust slower.
touch softer.
speak less.

so now you know
this heart,
it does not bruise
it blooms in pain.
this soul,
it does not break
it spills light
through its cracks.

so if you come near
and if you care
then please
be gentle with us.

Each court crowns a fool
Some wear it too well
I danced for his rule
Now I rot in his cell

A fool for the plot
He praised me in jest
But dead men still dance
When denied their rest

So I wait for a storm
To darken the land
Till cracks start to form
Beneath his command

Till the famine-worn tread
With their torches held high
To harvest the crumbs
Of a banquet denied

They carry my pain
In the heat of their cry
For the crown and the chain
And a kingdom awry

My cell starts to moan
As the ramparts collapse
They tear through the stone
And free me at last

I walk through the blaze
As the palace combusts
They gave me a stage
Now revenge I shall ******

He begged for his life
With tears on his cheek
I offered my knife
And let silence speak

No need for a trial
His crimes were well known
So I asked with a smile
Who had the last laugh

stheyre goingto find me
thosefeelingsi tried to leavebehing but theyy sswoulndt leave me.

theywalk beside me in thesunlgith sheileding their eyes
and in the darktheysmile stroking my hair

sayingyou;re n o t e n o u g h enunciating eachwordhisssssing
whispers

never ever ever enough youcould ne v  e   r be en o ugh
too much at the same timg like please picka ******* feeling

shes an oldfriend thistype oflonliness
i know her well
.

i hate writing
in short lines—
snapping into
indigestible
chunks.

When I met her
the flowers gave me my lines,
my world rippled new colors,
and words called to me
from the sun, moon, and stars.

I'm not dying.
I'm not dead.
Yet I struggle with the sisyphean task
of resuscitating myself with every breath.

I'm not breaking.
I'm not broken.
Yet I must reforge my fractured psyche
upon the hephaestian anvil that is my mind.
With the strikes of the willful hammer,
in the golden fires of my rage,
a weapon fit for Damocles unbreaks.

I'm not stopping.
I've not stopped.
Yet I must push my body and mind
through all these herculian trials
just so that I may escape this Tartarus.

I'm not losing.
I'm not lost.
Yet I see myself on freedom's deathbed
trying to resuscitate what's left of human kindness.

How do you forgive a ghost?

They speak no words.
They never say sorry.
They can never look you in the eye. 
They never stay long enough to watch how much it hurts.

You disappeared from my life.
Without fixing the chaos you caused.

I write letters I’ll never say.
Say goodbyes no one will ever hear.
Cry tears no one will ever wipe away.

You’re a ghost, but your fingerprints will never leave my skin.
You slammed the door shut, but your name still haunts the room.

How do you forgive someone that was never there?

You vanished before I learned to scream.
Now I only whisper.
Whispering “I forgive you”
Whispering broken promises, shattering before they were ever made.

You were supposed to stay.
You etched promises into my skin then peeled them off when my skin became too hard.
Like a coward.
Like a ghost.
I didn’t get a goodbye.
I didn’t get an explanation.
All I got was a lie.
Perfectly crafted by you.

I trusted you.
“She said she would come back.”
“She told me that I was the only thing that mattered.”
The vicious thoughts echoed in my head, swirling around like the wind in a storm.

I scream into empty spaces, hoping it’ll give me closure.
I cry in lone rooms, hoping someone will comfort me.

How do you forgive someone that never existed?

I searched for you everywhere.
But you're gone.
You left as soon as the opportunity arose.
I know you’ll never come back.

Maybe one day I’ll forget who you were.
But right now, I grieve you like a ghost who never died.

I mourn the person I once knew.
I mourn the memories we shared.
I mourn my love for you.

Because at one point, you were all that mattered.
Until you tore yourself from me.

The silence you left still screams at me.
Filling the air with words you never said.

I rehearsed every word I would say to you.
Every scream.
Every cry.
Every conversation.
I practiced every day.
And yet, they never entered the lonely atmosphere.

You took pieces of me I never knew.
I know that I’ll never get them back.
I search for the missing puzzle pieces in other people.
But they never seem to fit the hole in my heart.
In my soul.
In my identity.

Instead, I replaced them with hope.
Hatred.
Resentment.
Because I gave up on waiting for you.

Maybe you weren’t the ghost.
Maybe I am.
Maybe that’s why no one ever seems to notice.

I hate that no one else sees you.
I hate how you only appear in the mirror.
I hate how you look like me.
I hate how, in the end, it’s just me looking back. 

I wonder if ghosts can forgive too.
Do you miss me?
Do you even still care?
Or am I the one that’s haunting the past?
Am I the one who vanished years ago?
Or maybe, just maybe, am I still holding on to the little hope I have left?
Hoping you’ll come back?

Maybe I don’t forgive you.
Maybe forgiveness isn’t something for the dead.