There once was a young girl
Who loved to bake.
She was a dreamer
And a believer.
But she was the daughter of a noble
And became engaged to a foolish king.
And then, she met him.
Mysterious
Surprising
Dashing
Handsome
The joker from lands far off.
With a knack for magic
And baker girls.
They fell into a forbidden love.
Just as they were to run away together
He was killed.
It was quick
Fast
Clean
And right in front of her.
She fell into a state of rage and unfeeling.
Her first order upon becoming queen
Was to execute the killer.
“Off with his head.”
And she became
The
Queen
Of
Hearts.
A monster.
A destroyer.
A villian.

Not all fairy tales
Have happy endings.

A life can be told from different angles
A different moral every time
A fresh perspective from greater distance
Puts the truth to familiar lies

I always carry with me some rain in the pocket of my pants

To irrigate the yellow meadows of the paths I travel in this world
When the nights are not clear at daybreak
And its silence almost deafens me
I take a little rain out of my pocket
And your melody is my only company

Occasionally when I wear my jeans with fake pockets
I carry rain in the pocket of my t-shirt
A small pocket in the lapel
Just for precaution
Because maybe today is the day when the skies will claim you back

There were times when I wanted my skin to tell the happy stories of my childhood, and of my present fresh youth
Instead, it told tales of strenuous anguish

But the rain cleared these tales
At least most of them
Now my skin says nothing and my voice chooses what to share

When the days are terribly hot but dark
And suddenly breathing becomes the most difficult task of the day,
I ask her to rain torrentially

And when I'm home alone reading a book near that small window in my room
She remembers to keep me company,
She remembers that at two o'clock in the afternoon, a book and I tune in
and she serenades to me

Gone
Away
You are lost
It's my own fault
The sleight of my hand
Tipped you over the edge
Your destiny unfulfilled
Oblivion calling to you
Surely this way you will never burn

Wisdom is a rose
beautiful and bountiful
though its spines
cause woe and wounds.

Those who grasp at thee
wicked and wild thorn
will receive a
***** so painful
it will scar your mind
leaving behind,

The tales of the wise.

I’ve met a person yesterday
someone I’ve known for a year.
We shared our memories and pondered over our fears
In those drunken talks, I discovered a soul
A soul so natural and beautiful.

Even the air between us was drunk that night
It swayed here and there carrying tales dark and bright
Tales buried under layers of flesh
And tales forgotten, on the brink of death

She was happy, she was smiling as the stories came alive
and told me how she carelessly stargazed in the middle of a long drive

I then realized that all of us have songs to croon,
Some arching those lips and some with a sad tune
And in this world of broken vases and wilted flowers
singing is what keeps us alive.