my veins are on fire
my blood is straight whiskey
you were an alcoholic prior,
and i know you like it risky

succumbing to the temptation of pain
hand me a sacred image
and i'll turn it into a game
never a love i had to hide either,
never had a love for the theatres

Like bouquets of flowers
Which are all but homogenous
And withering from neglect.

Like a classic & well known speech;
But someone altered it greatly
From structure, wording, & hermeneutics.

Like beaches of glass,
Where time & wave deny
Any smoothing of edges.

Poetry is long-winded,
The stanzas bore
Through ups & downs.

the saddest part of dying
is what you forgot to do
the ideas born in lucid dreams
that vanished in the hue
the mountains never seen
the oceans never crossed
the poems written on scraps of paper
a lover's smile now lost
the tears you held inside
the chances never taken
the landscape of your life
an oasis now forsaken

Welcome !!

This is your house,
A door little tall,
The pet mittle spouse.

See ,
Those ten eyes ,
Lids some closed
The view is suffice,
Clatter of wood ,
Thud due wind,
And curtains fright.

Please make your way inside !!

This is the home in which you reside ,
This is where ,
you slept a myriad of nights.
Yes , this is the veranda of
Your childhood sunbaths,
Memory of joy,
Playing hard as mad .

Ooo,
It's your room,
Look at those doodles
On the walls,
Sketches of sun and crows
Signing your name ,
Across.

It's the TV you saw growing,
The fridge which colour's been fading
The bathroom's door which been
Cranking ,

(Joyful laugh)

Come beside,
Let's go on the roof ,
Take a breath
Let's move in a loop,
Sip of fresh air
Then make a move.

Reminisce the sunset ,
& The glare of moon ,
The panorama of lush green
silvered by lune.

This is your home
Not just a brick or stone ,
You spent your life here
Not just a shade of mere ,

This is a sweater of
Wool of will
The sweater that
has to be worn even
It's summer ,
It is an antique which
Only you can weave ,

So tell me ,

Why do you want to leave ?

I am a poetic heart that wants to speak in prose – about the pros
and cons about being in love, or being alone. But don't you go
tripping on your words; you might just fall in love tonight. And
I know her girlfriend is going to preach to me tonight, and I might
just listen to avoid another fight.

She knows I've got a contraband of controversial thoughts, and I
wonder if I ever manage to cross the border, will I find my mouth?
While closing my eyes to the sun— the horizon never felt so dark!
But if we cross swords to spar, could we eventually make a spark?

But when your tears are burning in my hands; which blisters do I
call my scars, while losing the bite for time; like all the missing teeth
you find on the floor of popular bars.

I look in the mirror, and it still asks me who I am; whether or not
I'll choose to follow old plans — should the white in my eyes look
at all the things I like, and conquer those lands? But my black dots
are still slaved to themselves; when we seem to be strangers to
ourselves. I still shut my eyes when I look at myself!

In the depths of night, a scent of blood hangs heavy in the air,
as if the clouds themselves had wept pools of blood, for their
sorrows in the form of rain.

I gently brushed away tears from a shard of ancient, stained
glass, lost in contemplation of the countless destinations we
could have been, our adventures stretching infinitely like the
vastness of the sea.

Yet, amidst the myriad of dreams we dared to envision,
the glass whispered a profound truth:

We are only as broken as the reflections we allow our
external mirrors to see.

I tried,
I struggled,
I succeeded,
I failed.

I supported,
I ridiculed,
I hugged,
I yelled.

I ignored,
I watched,
I comforted,
I taught.

But mostly,
I loved,
I nurtured,
And I was there.

I finally get it,
I am not perfect,
Far from it,
I am my own mistakes.

Lessons taught,
Morals instilled,
Guidance provided,
Of society norms.

And yet, I heard,
A quote that cut me to the core,
And urge you,
Break the mold, be your own.

It was never your part my child,
To teach me who you were,
It was my responsibility,
To learn who you ARE.

I am sorry if I wasn’t enough.