When I awoke, your taste lingered on my lips,
Your touch left tattoos all over my skin.
If only I could see your carnage, to revel in it!
I fantasize about your fingers tracing my skin
And your lips burning a scar onto my *******.
Why are fantasies intangible and temporary?

You are my temple, the one I visit each day;
Your golden shades wave from a distance,
Your windows look out to the world, yet hide
What’s within.

Your marble walls show strength,
With fine lines and cracks on side,
Yet you are still beautiful to me.

Your doors, once open to all, have now been shut,
Innocence transformed into heinous mockery
By an act of violent intrusion by another’s hand.

And my worship must now be visual,
I leave you be, for you may shun me,
Not out of hate but precaution and fear.

I will wait for you as you heal,
As the cracks begin to heal and form stories,
As the minutes make you wiser and stronger,
As the memory loosens its grip on you,
I will wait for you as you heal.

Let me offer you the gift of time,
And if you wish, allow me to restore you—
Don’t let this temple be destroyed by your
Inner tempest.

And when the tempests come, I will stand with you,
I will take the rain upon my cheeks and stay here,
Until the tempests pass.

And when the tempests go and the sky arrive,
I will be here and I will wait for you,
Until the day comes when you are well
And I have your permission to enter.

I wish to kiss you, to use my tongue as a painter would use a brush.
I long to write poems on your skin and trace verses on your heart,
To caress you as a sculptor smoothing out the edges.
Let me explore you. Just explore.
Without any thought of destination.
Just explore.

As I sit writing, my pencil sometimes lifts off the page.
Sometimes I think too much when writing.
When sentences rush to your head, all wanting to be written
When thoughts wage war in your mind, all wanting to be heard
It’s hard to accommodate for all
Words that desire to be tattooed on a page
And to be read by another’s lips
But none know the difficulty of pausing, having your pencil lift off the page because of a lack for words.

Everyday I see the same ice-cream truck go by
With the same children screaming and chasing after it
But one child never gets to try it
Whenever the child gets near, he speeds away
The child desperately wishes for an ice-cream truck to stop for her
So she may experience the taste, texture and good feeling
She dreams, but dreams are only dreams
She dreams for the day she can have ice-cream
One day, an ice-cream truck passes by to greet the children
But notices one is missing
The chant of the truck searches for the girl
But she never comes
One day, the ice-cream truck man asked where the last girl was
The mother stated she wasn't here because
She waited so long but you never came
Whenever she came near you, you sped away
The girl left without ever tasting ice-cream

Everyday I see the same ice-cream truck go by
But whenever the truck passes the final house
The ice-cream starts to melt.

I remember a lot of things.
Things I shouldn’t remember.
Things that made me happy.
Sad.
Confused.
Memories.

My body has become a devout follower of your religion
My mind resists your charms, yet it knows of the power you hold
I cannot dream without want of holding you,
I cannot dream without want of being near you
I cannot dream of sleep, when such reality exists.

As my reflection stares at me, I notice all the things people say about me.
I gaze upon the same face everyone sees.
Is there something beyond the mirror?
A world I am not aware about?
What happens to my reflection when I leave?

I am scared of my reflection.
The same eyes staring back at me.
Knows my every move, every thought, every sight.
But what does my reflection see through its mirror?
The same backwards world I live in?

Sometimes I wish I could walk through the mirror.
Live the life of my own reflection.
Switch places with myself.
The undiscovered country resides right in front of my eyes.
Yet it appears to be far away.

What life is my reflection living?
My own? Or someone else’s?
To live like lost lepers loitering around on a lost island.
What life lurks beyond that mirror of mine?
For when I leave, shall I experience it?
Will I finally get my answer?

As I stare back at my reflection, I notice all the things it stays to remind me about.
I gaze about the same face everyone sees.
I need to know what is beyond.
Beyond the mirror.

Help me. I’m trapped here.
Locked in a cell that would hold me for all eternity.
Forced to eat food that’s vile.
Made to consume capsules that make me confused.
The white devils strap me down and hold me tight.
I thought angels wore white. I am wrong.
Help me. I need something, someone.
To save my wrecked, worried, wearied body.
To take me away from this nightmare that never ends.
A voice that repeats itself ad infintium.
“Never.”
Restrained, tortured and kept alive.
Who’s there?
Help me.
HELP ME.
HELP ME!!
HELP ME!!!
From this ****** up place.

My closest companion.
Whom I shared my secrets with.
We were two halves of a circle.
The only person who withstanded my tempest.
Your voices told me stories I will never forget.
You showed me things I never knew about.
We would laugh. We would cry. We would raise hell.
You were eccentric. That’s what I liked the most.
Never afraid to break the rules.
My love for you knows no bounds.
You may be gone, but your memory lives on.
Your spirit is here, walking with me.
My guardian angel.
My friend.
My closest companion.
A brother I always cherished.
A man whom I truly loved.

The beautiful trees stand in glory
Flowers bloom showing their beauty
Grass spreads its intoxicating scent
Every color is vivid and jubilant
Happy for all to see their colors
Spring, a season of balance
Spring, a season of serenity
Spring, a season of joy

She walks in beauty and with elegance.
But I cannot seem to reach for her lips.
She leaves to go on her annual trips.
When she’s gone, I fill up with helplessness.
I will never feel such a blessedness
Until her restless green eyes come back here.
Losing her is the only thing I fear.
Just the mere thought fills me with dreadfulness.

The baroness came to grant me a kiss.
My heart skips a beat as she walks towards me.
Her radiant smile burns into my soul.
Spirits combined for a moment of bliss.
Our love shall last, it was meant to be.
To be joined at last, to become a whole.

What are you thinking about?
Are you thinking about the words on the page?

I know that you are reading my words.
And I know we are speaking at the same time.

Scribble, swabble, wink, wink, nod, nod, shuffle, shuffle
Just a mere test.

To get into your mind, I have to become you.
And I think I’ve done that.

The pain that bubbles within you.
Keeping you locked in a cage until you’re free.
Pain that cannot be described in words.
You’ve been hurt.

You don’t have to say anything. Your eyes tell all.
Lips shut tight when you want to scream.
Unwilling to make yourself more vulnerable.
You are hurt.

When one hurts, they lie.
Say nothing is wrong and continue the self-harm.
Just as bad as the one who hurt you.

Your pain will reveal itself.
And I will be there to comfort you.

Through everything she’s been through, I still love her.
She’s seen hell.
She has endured violation of her body.
Came out of war with scars.
I still love her.

She had fought through a battle of immense depression.
Withstanded the whips of oppression.
She rose through the whole fight.
To become a queen in her own right.

Her personal battles inspire me.
Because she’s tougher than me.
They inspire me to be better for her.
For I could’ve lost my love at any moment.
Her survival makes her more beautiful to me.

I don’t love her less because of what happened.
My heart aches for her pain.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time?
She has.

And I still love you.
Whenever you rise from your pain, I rise from mine.
Through everything, I loved you.
And I will still love you.

Never have I felt the warmth of day
Graze upon this sunken face;
The swaying breeze escapes my ears
And does not assuage my growing fear.
The gay day is covered in black,
Never again to show its shades.

Custom phantoms cross my mind
That keep me livid through the night;
While the moonshine becomes my daylight,
Darling morning hurts my eyes.
Night is night and night is day,
For the two have failed to separate.

Ghostly figures have my heart—
Timeless sleep ripens my pain,
Enterprises of lost rest haunt
Restless souls as myself.

Lovely day is now my death,
Faithful night is now my life,
Night is day and day is night,
Night is night and night is night.

Your priorities became my priorities.
Your life became mine.
I never speak about us in conversation.
Because you occupy my mind.

I care about you too much.
Have no care for my well-being.
You drain me of my love
Now I have none left for giving.

I used to love myself.
Confidence radiated from every pore.
Now you’ve ****** me dry.
My self-love is gone forever more.

The compression grip of longing grabs my heart
And squeezes it.
It occurs whenever I ponder on a life I have not
Lived yet or a feeling that I long to experience.
Whenever I feel incomplete or unsure,
Or need reassurance; it comes and goes
Like a summer breeze.
But the beat goes on and on.

The cold, brittle air slaps my cheeks.
Assaults my eyes
Numbs my fingers.
When the snow falls around me
I feel as if I’m in a winter wonderland.
Nothing but white.
The pure white blanketing the ground

The eyes of winter are cold and unnerving.
Bitter with an icy stare.
But behind that visage,
Is a gentle soul who begs to be loved.
Through her cold heart, there is beauty.

Do words age well?
Some words, like dinosaurs, become ancient
And they are never heard of again.
Other words, remain immortal
And live for more generations to use them.

Words shall remain the vessels of our emotions
Until our dying breath.
Words will only die when the medium of speech disappears.

You my lady, are a work of art.
Eyes are dots of blue.
A different shade on each side.
It brings out the elegance of your smile.
Such perfect teeth; brighter than the white light.
I love when you laugh.
A song with every melody, crescendo and harmony.
Your hair, formed from a painter’s every stroke.
Deep, rich, saturated yellow.
Hands crafted from a god-like sculptor.
A female Cupid, ravishing, alluring and arresting.
Mysterious and occult.
Your figure puts every other to shame.

Only a few can understand your mind.
Get lost in translation and they get left behind.
To know your thoughts, to keep and grasp
For longer than forever, that is a difficult task.
Your mind is a motion picture masterpiece.
Every thought a scene that is picture-perfect.
Each character is perfectly developed.

It has everything I want, everything I need.
A beginning, middle and an ending.
An intriguing plot without an evil fiend.
Something I could watch over and again.
It wins every award in my eyes.
Every single one, every single prize.

You contain an unbridled spirit.
Like a child, always active.
It cries out its primal scream, I hear it.
You shouldn’t be contained, you should be free.
Only then will your spirit call out to me.
Your soul adorns your personality.
It soars high above like a bird.
No one should ever keep you captive.
That person is a fool if they try.
She’s jubilant, expressive, full of energy.
Never tired, hyperactive.
Without my medium, I’ll fall apart.
Because you my lady, are a work of art.

I wish I had a happy day
But I just lost a friend today
And I kept begging her to stay
But they took her from me anyway.
Now her love’s a million miles away
And I have nothing left to say
But please come back to me.

Just walk. No need to have a destination
In mind. Just walk.
Just be a spectator to the living earth.
Walk on the ground that has carried your lineage
To great lands,
See how the trees sway for their one-person audience.

Listen, truly listen to the sound of the music
That is formed by the environment.
Let your legs take you to new places
Just as your words take you to new faces.
Walk without expectation,
Expect without reward,
And there shall await a magnificent conclusion.

Love is not proud, yet proud at the same time.
Love, you are an interesting being;
You numb me from the painful cramps of hurt,
Yet when I have you, I can fall hard.

Your blindness allows me to see your imperfection
With perfect clarity. Yet all I see are your
Beauteous features and your elegance.

Love, you are not proud, but you should be.
Moderate pride does not hurt with self-love,
For you know that I shall love you until
I whisper your name a final time.

The horror of not having you present
Rips at my tender heart with brutal strength;
Already, my heart cries for your presence
Churning my blood to tears while taking my breath
Its tears blister my veins and ache my bones,
Which makes me all the more melancholy.
When the flowers fall, I shall be alone—
Not while I am alive to sit and dream.
However, our child shall carry your smile
Your brave brashness, your bravado, your charm
And I shall have your likeness all the while,
To end this reign of everlasting harm.

My darling, my hearts aches for you as well
And I shall be with you with the bell’s wail.