Words come crashing in tides,
Our past regrets haunting.
The world is becoming broken
And we’re left beyond repair.
Sometimes we think we feel love
But in the end it’s all thoughts.
Each day we wake up afraid
Of our mind and our flaws.
Praying the sun will set,
And the pain will end in soon,
But really it’s not even done.
All hope has been drained
So finally we are feeling numb
With no pain to ever recall.

_

Young and in love, two kids with a lollipop.

The future is theirs, a sundae with a cherry on top.


Honest and innocent, immature and insecure,

Both happy and scared, both hearts sure.


Nine months spent together, three spent apart;

Missing, Longing, and Waiting:

One year til two broken hearts.


3 days left, 2 heartstrings severed by 1 lie.

"I talked to her!" Said her friend, "Come over, let's have a beer and get high."


"Well?! Why hasn't she called?  She's barely written..."

Jealous and wicked, she lies, "With another she's smitten."


The room spins, the floor falls away, the lights start to flash.

My cigarette just burns, the beer tastes like ash.


I expected to be abandoned, I always knew I'd end up alone.

Fool, I stayed when she said, "You're too drunk to go home."


I didn't deserve a second chance, nor should I have wasted,

But I couldn't speak, twisted, conflicted, and consumed by self-hatred.


I blamed her and her friend, I tried to hide it by running non-stop,

But in the end, it was my hand that broke the lollipop.

Im scared of
Losing someone
Yet
Im the cause
why I
Lost them






I did that

This is not my skin
I will not, can not fit in
suited for some other guy
Left here to wonder why

Why the hand-me-downs
a shortage of cosmic gowns
too many orders in my size
a flood seeking my prize

To find which is my skin
have what’s out match within
a fit made perfect right
no pinching not too tight

chafing ended the tightrope
walker’s life scratched hope
for feeling something without
ends in a flight of doubt

I am sure this is not my skin
they tell me doubt’s a sin
well king of sinners am I
watch my eternal life die

ever wonder where I belong
on which fork turned wrong
where direction unravelled
took a path well-travelled

By those in others’ skin
outside differs from within
wearing the suit of some guy
merchandise we did not buy

stand here middle of the road
burdened by my heavy load
left here to wonder why
my eye cannot find I

Aye, this is not my skin
a shell I try to fit in
like a hermit crab’s shell
my personal little hell

flames fan desire to know
where did my true self go
for surely there is another
my misplaced other

who also feels within
“this is not my skin”
I wonder how, wonder why
I cannot trade with that guy

Left here to wonder why
suited for some other guy
I will not, can not fit in
this is not my skin.
~
NM
01/06/21

Flashes of yesterday’s garden,
deep green under a gray sky--
I step into the canvas, moving
slowly, regretful and watchful,
with the weight of past light.

So many colored years,
some bright, some somber,
and you, the voice that ripened
youth, the accented syllables
opening the hours between
cliffs and sky, your presnce
re-appearing in soft explosions
of living, so painful to let go.

I pray for change, impermanence,
for last year’s dust to settle to
acceptance, to turn over the pages
of the past and to forgive everything.

Lemme collect these shambles, ones scattered in the name of cards ungambled. Battles that left me rattled. Pieces that never fell together.

Realisations gone to tatters. Memories forgotten, altogether. These pieces of armor unfused forever.

Energies wasted in mindless splendor, with ideals crafted in inks without matter.  

These caricatures of youth, wasted in canvas of unwritten letters.

These realisations altogether, left us with spirits now dampened.      

Realisations, you say? No its the room, the walls, the paint, the comfort, the pain that has left you with these echoes, voices that never mattered.

Gazing from a mirror broken beyond repair,
All she could notice was a lifeless face.
A stench of blood and that of guilt,
Trailed her wherever she went.

She was haunted all her life,
Her days filled with endless tears
Seeking what she thought would end the pain,
To remedy the hate she had within.

Of her heart and soul she bleed.
The sun and moon had no effect
Cos all she perceived was a thick darkness,
A vendetta she promised to reciprocate.

O'er everything she sort revenge,
Gladly thinking it'll end the hate
But the nights became horrifying,
With a grime of blood on her hands for life.

I do not long for moments lost.
I long for losses yet to come.

Long ago we stood together.
   By the walls of time,
   We built an orchard;
   Where we sat gazing and repairing. 

We treasured every moment building it up.
   Carefully watering, pruning and shaping the plants.
   Every moment in there meant a lot.
   We worked intentionally for its growth.

The more time we spent in there,
   The more we grew in knowledge of ourselves.
   The orchard was a reflection of our relationship.
   In there, we bonded and mended our holes.

All of a sudden our orchard got dry,
   Ugly, ***** and extremely bushy.
   Our interest and cares had grown apart,
   Thus failing to nourish and water our growth.

Our once beautiful orchard became a dunghill.
   We failed giving it proper care.
   And before we could act, it was too late.
   We failed keeping it alive.