I don't know how to express my feelings
Because you left a void in my heart
That nobody can be able to fill it
I wish God shouldn't have taken you
Away from me
I wish you were here to share my feelings
I miss you everyday
Sometimes I ask God why He took you away
Maybe He had a reason why He took you away
From me your better half
I always wonder how you you look like
How we would do things together as twin sisters,
The constant fights we would have,
I wish I knew how look like
The differences we would have,
I miss you everyday
Heaven couldn't wait for you

Her life was smoke—suffocating any air
that fought to hold certain sight as readily
as eyes starve for immobilizing sequence.

In her frequency, she could eclipse the whole
of your sun and your moon and soon enough
there could be nothing.

Nothing except the hollow hours cast
in disintegrating lilacs, that scorched
simple skin across each tired ending.

Her life was smoke—but at times
there hummed from her, amidst the rolling haze,
slipping chords, not yet callused.

In her spreading, the occupancy of her transparency
dissipated: and behind her eyes, was the quiver
of her flame's decay.

Decay was a ritual she consumed willfully. Even as
her wick sought its end, she would still wander
into the kitchen, seeking empty kisses of *****.

Her life was smoke—spent hovering above heads
that had suffused themselves in gasoline, wondering
which decade it was, she had left them.

I listen to couples make
comfortable word-work
with slurs slurred and
gawking at glazed windows
filled with the feeling of
forever empty—forever
falling into the pit of
“perhaps this can be real
enough” for me and my
lover and this child and
for that great long while,
left looming under dusted
streetlights. If only for a
short long while, can it really
truly be, just you and me.

The days stretched out to several inches thick:
such wakefulness lives beyond the orange glow.

With each guillotine-morning
came a syncopated lullaby
that danced with delusion and
mirrored the nothing sky.

That evening, I saw the waltz
of human tragedy performed
by all the wailing trees.

Walking down Waugoo Street, wading
through the water: fists folded in silk-lined
pockets, in awe of the misting droplets
that silently encompassed me.

Yellow gloss across the walls—the
mirror mocked from down the hall
and taken to the shrieking room, with
orange-stutter seeping fast into
my crying on the kitchen floor: realizing
there might be nothing more, than the
emptying of existence—framed in the
decaying swings of a metronome, and
loss left lingering on the phone. Of

feelings surely found by faded tongues, and
the blood that pools to the bottom of my
lungs.

And so I wait,
...................
...................
...................­
...................
..................
This is what it feels like when you not around
The silence becomes incredibly loud.
I try and occupy my brain with humans who were there before you, but they will never match up to the stranger I have come to know.
It took me a little over 48 hours to get hooked on a human.
Not just any but
YOU.
You're in my thoughts,
In my ENDLESS conversations,
And you have personally found your way into my sacred space, my vulnerability, my poems.
You have infiltrated your existence into mine
And at this very moment I wouldn't want it any other way.
Sacrificing my sleep in order to exchange thoughts, ideas, authenticity, crazy stories and doing absolutely anything and everything to get to know you more is than an honour.
You're different!
Not the obvious, accent, skin colour, how we were raised different.
You're " I'm connected to your soul, I don't know how it got there so quickly, your existence overwhelms me with contentment and I'm grounded by your personality it's mind blowing" different.
Never stop being so sweet, it's contagious
And never stop talking to me unless you're slaving your life away doing what you're passionate about
Or sleeping.
At this point I have come to realize that I don't mind waiting, I'll do it over
And
Over
And
Over
AGAIN...
Only because I have to.