she wanted to paint over
the marks on her face
to create a blank canvas
so their eyes would not
drill holes into her pores.
but before she could paint,
two arms wrapped around her,
slowly turning her around.
her eyes were downcast
as he kissed her every mark.
"I love your constellations.
Please don't hide them,"
he gently whispered.
she pulled him closer,
leaning back onto the counter.
the brush fell to the ground
as they savored their sweet love.

I don’t want to whisper anymore,
nor wish for stolen glances
to be my messenger,
odd hours and pillow talks
on different beds miles away
have now become my misery.
The faucet of excuses
to meet you in person
and pet my pinings to sleep
has run itself dry.
I wish to say it aloud
for your heart to hear
and the universe to register.
I love you.
I love you,
and I am left with no will, nor patience
to not be with you.
To be around you
is no longer flattering,
for in the moon and musk
I see distances and measures
that pull at the chords of my longing
and render me a sweet wailing
in its own wake.
I want to come home now,
make my bed with you
keep the phone aside and hold you.
I want my emptiness filled
with your touch
and find my closure  
in the heaves of your breathing.
Take me in
and leave me in no doubt,
for I would live a moment with you
than a lifetime without.

The trees,

They whisper to me.

Of the things they want me to believe.

The trees, say

You are strong.

You are tall.

You will rise,

Like me.

The wind,

Whisper’s to me,

Be like me.

Be wild, be free.

Forgive. Let in.

The waves,

Speak to me.

With their resilience,

Their everlasting crash.

Forward and back, Forward and back.

The waves tell me,

Keep going.

The world will still go on without you,
The waves will still crash
The wind will still soar
The trees will still stand tall.
Seasons will change,

So keep going.
Stay strong. Be resilient. Let go, Let in.

Just,
Be.

If I were to confess,
Which I won’t,
I would apologize.
If I were to tell you,
The words burning on my lips,
Which I refuse to do,
I would say
That I’m sorry
For not giving you my best.
If I were to speak the truth,
Which I’ve never done,
I’d get quite close,
To your blooming cheeks
And whisper to you,
“I was wrong.”
I would watch your lips
As you ask me your question.
I would say, rather softly,
“I was afraid.”
I would gently take your hand
And lace our fingers together
One last time
And I would speak,
“But I lost you anyway.”