I wake up with tears on my face
and my mind searches for a reason
for the tears to dry on my face
while my eyes close again
to search for that happy place
the one which has no trace.

I wonder if my tears are just an illusion
in order to illustrate my confusion.

Since they cut
my long heavy
navel string
they too
cut the feeling
of love.

Attachment
was never present
in the same
jointed way
that I once
felt thoroughly.

Then came
one who too
had a
broken heart
who's navel
was fully hallow.  

One who
would use the
navel string
to wrap it
around my neck
till I choked.

I realised
then
that
you made me scared of the word,
love,
because you used it in the wrong way.

I braided my hair
so it wouldn’t
fall into your face
and touch
your smiling lips

When your lips
stoped smiling
then I stoped
braiding

The length of the silk fabric.  
does not determine the quality.
It may be long,
or it may be shot.

So when you ask me about
the length of my poems
my answer will be
that I want to enjoy every word,
feel every sentence and
appreciate all of the fabric.

If you want to define love
you are not worth of such beauty.
Because love is not to be defined
just like you can’t describe
the golden thoughts of a crazy lady.

Her shine will forever remain
unspoken amongst the cruel men
who no longer know what to strive for
or what to do with the the puddle of shine.

Boredom can cause you to do
horrible,
  dreadful,
    frightful,
     shocking,
       terrible
         things.

That causes hair-raising
and spine-chilling thoughts
to appear in your mind.
Yet they never seem to hurt the bee,
only the bird.

I'll show you mine
if you show me yours.
She said
as paint dripped down her face.
Humming melodies from out of space.