you were the blank canvas
you were the next chapter
a clean slate for many
we praised you before you even arrived
but when we turned the page for our next chapter
we did not realise what damage is to come
maybe that is why you ended in ruins

I read your face like it’s a piece of literature. 
Your pages run endlessly like a stream of strong syllables and sounds that power our communication. 
Yet you still have this incoherent tapestry of words and letters scattered in your eyes. 
I see your lips forming the analogy your mind speaks. 
I can feel it and you know what you feel. 
You know you can express it. 
But you won’t.
I look at your beauty in the hope you will explain what your heart desires. 
We speak the same language, yet you still do not understand me. 
You play the reckless game of words vs action. 
While no words are spoken you blind me with your actions. 
I forgot you have a wall of words you won’t let me through. 
Your guard is full of hidden meaning.
Please let me in. 
What is this war of silent words we are playing? 


I wish I could walk past you like a piece of art that hangs in a gallery or a novel that sits in bookshop amongst the others. But I chose you 
The closed book 
The incomplete painting.

I know we are young
But falling in love is something no one will teach you
Just know that when you think you have fallen too deep
There is always more to fall for.

To my Brothers,
To my Kings,
remember that your crown will always shine endlessly
remember the strength endure with each tuck and fold you make
even through the darkest times from humanity's hits, your crown may seem to unravel but I promise it will never fall.
because...
remember the touch of our mothers and grandmothers as they comb and braid our thick, dark hair; ever so gently yet with the greatest strength of them all.
remember the smell and touch of their hands as the oils they use to wrap around each strand of hair with love and care; nourishing your roots.
a perfect foundation built for your crown to sit so effortlessly placed by our fathers and grandfathers in solidarity in between our shoulders.

You walked into my home.
You rested on my back as I felt your lies trickled down my spine. 
They seem to seep into my pores as my tears consolidate your lies deeper into me. 
They have become a part of my home. 
I don’t decorate your words on my brown skin.
But I try to bandage them up with the plasters of my forgiveness and naivety.
You may puncture my lungs with your spear like words.
Your sweet mouth continues to leak sharp sounding words
You may rip out my heart and tear it into two with your sweet mouth 
You may shatter my bones into a thousand pieces. 
But the sound they make as they fall part will start the welcome celebration my body gives to my new wounds.
They will enter an unbroken home. 
They will stay safe here. 
Until another sweet mouth enters 
My skin will repair itself but it will always feel your touch. 
But I will never break I will always remain my own home.

for what i was given
a heart
soul
and mind
i still do not understand what you want
yet i know you fail to understand me too
we are told to think with clarity and logic without turning numb and cold.  
we are told to feel with passion and love 
but do not turn tender and soft.
i am incapable to understand you.
why have we built this construction of paradoxes in our own palace of feeling and thought
i simply do not know