Frozen beauty
breathtakingly
preserved in his
running watercolour,
rough charcoal,
faded photograph film,
A beauty forevermore-
stilled yet alive.

Once he’d adored her,
‘daddy’s little girl’
he had said
while he swung her around
then she perched on his shoulders.
He’d tell everybody
about his angel.

Until she hit thirteen,
the devil she became.
His grip tightened,
knuckles now white
‘Just like your mother’
‘Don’t you dare talk back’
He’d taught her how to flinch

Shown her
the cost of silence.
and whilst
Mothers forgive,
Wives excuse,
daughters remember-
because he always remembered

He raised a daddy’s girl
who won’t bow now
a girl unfettered she became
whilst he, fettered by his past
mistook fear for power
but now that’s gone
and so is he

The most beautiful humans
struck by young fame
graced and haunted
by societies expectations.

Not too fat,
but not too skinny,
Not so flat
and always pretty.

Are they
mannequins in motion?
or people—
the industry doesn’t know

They throw
sticks and stones
turning them
to skin and bones

Their tears
could drown cities—
full of hunger
and pain—
but they stay silent.

Because they must.
“You must be seen,
and not heard.”
Just walk now,
and look pretty.

Goddesses bound by heels
bleeding behind blush ..
They are told to glow now
but one day they’ll burn

My vampire,
an old dreamer,
with eyes
dark
and tired—
yet still
alluring,
with irresistible mystery.

Your ebony hair,
wispy and wild,
holds secrets
I ache
to run my fingers
through.

Your sultry voice,
pensive,
tinged with solemnity,
makes me
lose myself.

A pale face—
yet lips,
full
of a red
I melt into.

Oh, my sweet
summer child,
with your golden smile
and that glimmer in your eyes.

I admire you,
maybe even envy
your blinding sun,
that hurts my tired eyes.

Your sun-kissed
picture frame face
exudes such joviality
but at a pace

With undulating curls
that unfurl around
your shimmering face,
yet still hold place.

How does it feel
to be God’s favorite?
I wonder,
how you smile with such grace.

Your laugh,
my sigh,
melt away
in the citrus and heat.
The sun beats down
on my back
in undulating waves.
I drink it in,
but it leaves an aftertaste—
unnervingly inevitable.
Soon it’ll be over.
It won’t last…
I know.

But before I leave,
I want to waste
my last days
getting lost
in the haze
of your sun-kissed
summer face

‘It’s not fair’
A petulant cry
Familiar echoes
of hopelessness

“Life’s not fair, Lex.
but I didn’t birth a failure.
You’re gonna win.
No. matter. what.”

Some start ahead —
born on better tracks —
but that doesn’t mean
you can’t outrun them.

You just gotta try a little harder
and you’ll get there…
‘Faster, yes, faster’
‘Nearly-‘

You might have to step
on a few toes
to pass the others
but one day, I know,
you’ll reach them,
The People
at the top.

“But I don’t wanna hurt others Mama”
“Sometimes baby, that’s
what winning takes”
“I’m sorry Lex”

Our start lines
aren’t equal,
some are in different races
But Lex,
you’re going
to win.

I hear things
that I can never quite discern.
I know there is a life beyond this
but is it better,
or worse?

What is that life like?
I wonder and marvel
at the things
my forming mind
conjures up.

I know I will see her face,
she has already told them about me.
I think she loves him-
but sometimes, late at night
I feel her tremble and sob…

I don’t know why
she does everything she does-
but she will be wonderful
because she is mine.
Although she cannot protect me from all.

So still I fear,
the coldness of the world
she shivers within-
that I know I shall fear,
so I lie still
and count my days.

Faster.
Hurry.
We’re gonna miss it.
Leave me alone.

Your laugh—
like wind chimes—
gives me chills,
a feeling I never
want to forget.

One day,
I may sit by myself
and not remember
my loved ones.
I may struggle to walk.
I’ll be done
chasing dreams.

But right now—
slow down.
Stop running.

Let me look at you
a little longer.
Let me absorb your face—
because even if,
someday,
you seem like a girl
from a fever dream,
allow me now
to memorise every bit of you
while you’re still
tangible to me.

Because time
is something
you and I
cannot run from.

I don’t get to see you
too often,
but I don’t blame you
for what you did.

You couldn’t stay,
and that’s okay.
You always try
and sometimes lie,
but I won’t hold a grudge-
who am I to judge?

You tell us
you still love us,
and I know that.
So we can chat,
and i’ll sit with you a while
then you’ll feign a smile

But I see how it hurts you
your start anew,
your empty home.
I see your eyes like chrome.
You never stay too long
and your voice doesn’t sound as strong…

It’s hard to pretend,
and even harder to try to mend…
But anyways,
I’ll stop this haze-
I just wanted to say:
Happy Father’s day

Do you ever wish,
you could redo it
all
over
again?

Go back to when
there were no problems,
or at least
no real problems.

A time I can’t even remember anymore
let alone imagine,
No pressure or worries?
back to a flowing, carefree entity…

All the what ifs?
they will always gnaw at me,
would I like to satiate them,
or are they better off starved?

Although, I know
the future doesn’t wait,
so some time or another
it will arrive.

And there will always be
more bad things to happen,
more good things to happen,
more losses than wins

So would I try to escape or
accept what I cannot change
and keep going
anyway?

I never know
the right thing to say, or do
but you don’t either
so it’s okay.

Maybe I talk too much sometimes,
and I freeze
when you look at me,
like that.

We’re not like a movie couple,
our love is raw and messy,
but it’s true
and that’s what counts.

And maybe one day
we’ll go our separate ways—
but what we have now
is something.
And I’ll always,
love you.

I feel like those old abandoned factories-

My heart, a shattered window
My legs, crumbling bricks
My thoughts, muddled graffiti
My whole body, rusted and broken down

But I still stand.
Like that dilapidated factory,
through suffering, it also stands
even in its ruined state.

But then, suddenly,
shards of light
cast a spectral play
through fractured panes,
an almost ethereal experience
it is so rare.

Still, hope glimmers,
and after a while,
wildflowers bloom,
stretching across the span,
reclaiming the ruins,
growing over the brokenness,
not in spite of it
but because of it.

A musician strums a sorrowful song
chords ringing loud enough
for his little girl,
who sleeps in the earths embrace,
six feet deep.

A woman files paperwork,
answers relentless emails,
and even stacks her grief in neat piles,
but it’s only her distraction
from nine to five…

A girl avoids mirrors
because it hurts to see
how she traced pain
along forearms and thighs
‘damaged’ ‘ugly’ ‘ruined’, she thinks,

A mother screams
about clothes on the floor
and unwashed dishes
because the silence of her broken home
scares her more than feigned anger.

A writer spends endless nights
scrawling lovesick thoughts,
and morose notes
on scrappy, tear stained paper
no one will ever see.

A teenage boy, never at home
swallows pills like promises
whilst he loses himself
in the haze
of a swirling smoke room

An old man looks out the window
of his care home
and names clouds after the ones he loved
while he waits for someone
who will never come.

If you look close enough-
Everyone is in pain.
And that’s the truth,
the real, visceral truth,
but we carry on.

Why? you ask,
Why do you hide?
For protection-
because it’s safer,
than being seen.

If all I must do is lie,
wear a snarling mask,
bare sharp teeth
so they don’t hurt me,
I will.

I’ve learned to walk
like I belong with the pack,
echo their growls,
So they
keep their distance.

I pretend to be the ones I’ve feared,
I hunt and harm,
not because I want to,
but to hide
among the wolves of the world.

But still-
to lie for protection
does not make me good,
So, really,
I am no better than a wolf
in sheep’s clothing.

To My First Love,

I was like wildfire,
and you were rain.
You steadied me,
and without even meaning to,
I fell for you.

You brought out the best in me-
lit me up with a different flame,
less angry, more passionate-
in a good way.
But maybe, that stifled your flame.

We were young and scared,
I wanted to run off,
follow the wind
and our too-big dreams,
but you couldn't.

Couldn’t just leave everything
for an uncertain dream.
Roots held you down
and I wasn’t strong enough,
to pull you free.

But maybe in another life,
Where we’d have more
than empty gum wrappers
and a crumpled dollar in our pocket,
We could be.

But you did good for yourself,
found something true,
someone who made you anew,
something I could never
have given
to you.

The grasp you held on my heart
once felt reassuring, securing even.
But your fingerprints left bruises,
each one an echo of your lies.

My heart became a weathered map:
torn corners by sharp words,
crumpled from venomous lies,
the trail of betrayal tracked across it.

You made me flinch at kindness,
distrust soft spoken words,
run from help, for fear
it was another trap.

Even amiability makes me brace for pain
and I know-
I will never be the same, because
love feels like a fairytale
written for someone else—

and I can only imagine the ending.

Was it the stars that doomed me?
Or your seraphic seeming face,
doe eyed with
soft rosy lips,
and a devilish grin-
Enough to make a man
forget about sin...

It was you who doomed me.
Falling can feel like flight
if your eyes are closed,
Were mine?

Our love felt
like a flame in the wind-
fierce yet fleeting,
doomed for destruction.

But my rose coloured glasses
soon broke,
and made me realise:
I was star crossed,
with a devil in disguise.

Does it though?
because friends
have never
belittled or
cut me down
quite like you have.

Nobody has ever made me
want to jump off the edge
from pain and hurt,
yet still scream words of gratitude,
because I know
how much
you sacrificed
for me.

You may not have been perfect,
but it’s everybody’s first time
at life
and I know
even if everybody
leaves my side
you’ll still be there
because blood
runs thicker
than water.

Brand new,
Shiny and promising -
hope met with disappointment.

Collapses on impact.
Dangerous in appearance,
Hollow within. A fraud.

A friend to many
all of whom
were too lost
to remember her

But a foe to most
who remember
her thievery

I thought you left me.
Probably thinking I was
too much of a hassle.
You say you left a note,
didn’t see it.

Don’t look at me like that.
Like I’m not me,
like I’m a stranger
wearing my own skin.

You say we’ve had this conversation
three times today.
Well, I guess I just don’t remember.
Doesn’t mean i’m not trying to.

You say I left the stove on.
I say I didn’t.
We both believe we’re right,
but only one of us is losing their mind.

Sometimes I call you by the wrong name—
or ask where Mom is,
and you go quiet,
because we buried her last fall—
please forgive me..

This cruel disease
doesn’t just erase memories.
It erodes trust,
ruins families,
breaks everything…

Please don’t.

Let me enjoy
this summer,
even if it’s for
the last time…

Let me taste
the sweet sun,
and it’s warmth
on my skin,
Let me get lost in
the golden haze of
endless summer days
that I once let
slip through my fingers.

Don’t let them see me again
as the teenager
that won’t come out,
because they forgot how to play.

I won’t let
the weight of your
mental exhaustion
pull me under
the current
again.

I want this summer-
in all its glory
full of sun drenched days,
with family near,
and laughter ringing free.

I’ve already lost too many summers,
wasted years choking
on your heavy lies—
the ones that told me
misery was the only way to be.

So please, Depression-
just, don’t.

Oh a girl,
my age too,
she wants to be friends…

But maybe
she’s laughing,
behind some screen,
showing her friends
how stupid I sound,
how quickly
she was able
to deceive.

Or maybe—
she’s not even
a she.
Maybe it’s
a man.
Old.
Watching.
Preying.
behind a mask
of stolen pictures
and sweet words.

Or maybe,
I’m talking
to a ghost
a shadow of what’s
never existed
not here
or there
maybe not anywhere,
a figment of AI’s imagination.

The world lies serene from up here,
bright blinding lights
seem dim,
people like insects, crawling
insects like dust, clinging
and scuttling to their dark corners.
A place above all
where I can forget.
As I watch my feet swing
over the edge,
I'm not scared nor sad,
not thrilled either,
Just am.

they say don’t judge a book by its cover
but sometimes
you start reading
and the words just
won’t resonate with you
they won't
make you think
or feel

but remember
you don’t have to
force yourself
to finish
a bad book

I sit next to this girl
who plays the bass
like it owes her something,
head hung low
with chipped black fingernails
and untamed curls
that unfurl around her face.

I hear iron maiden playing
through her headphones
as she taps her fingers
to the beat.
She never seems to smile,
though she has the most beautiful
kohl rimmed brown eyes.

But back home,
she smiles at her little brother
and spins him around.
She takes song requests
on little sheets of paper
from sticky hands,
and she’ll play them all
just for him.

She writes him stories of
heroes and hope,
then tucks him in tight,
and disappears to her room
where she’ll write all night,
the things
she’ll never
say out loud.

Have you ever felt a love so strong
that your chest physically hurts,
because you long for it,
with the entirety of your being.

A love so intense
it scares you,
breaks you like glass,
bring you to the edge of destruction,

But you don't fall over the edge,
and you won’t,
because they’ve got you,
tight in their grasp
forevermore.

I’m bored now.
I don’t want the calm before the storm
I want the storm,
right now.

break me,
burn me,
do whatever,
I’m ready.

The countdown begins
Three whole weeks,
then one week,
now four days,
it’s tomorrow-
in three hours.

Until the dreaded hour comes and goes.
But it doesn’t end there.
It’s only the start
of my two weeks of hell.

My hands sweat and shake
as I frantically flip through pages,
what have I been revising for?
weeks of effort-
but the words blur into one
and… time.
Pens down.
I’ve messed it up.
Again.

Then comes results day,
Suddenly, sitting the exams seemed like heaven
compared to this day of hell
because I already know-
before I even open that little sheet-
my work probably hasn’t paid off

And…
I’ve messed it up.
Again.

Now I sit in front of my parents
and they ask
if I even tried,
but I did try
I tried for four weeks.
Eight hours a day.
Up to the very last minute.
I tried.

But they’ll never know,
because all they see is
that little white sheet
with the little black numbers.

all my hard work-
reduced to nothing
they can’t see past the percentages
to see me,
crumbling
before their eyes.

So I stand and sigh,
which nobody sees or hears,
pull out my textbooks of torture,
and let the current of words
and equations
and lists
pull me under…

We’re two different people
from two inexplicably different worlds,
who can never truly
see things through the same eyes.

While I see,
a sky painted with beautiful and wild brushstrokes,
You see,
dilapidated high rises blurred by grey clouds.

I see,
a bubbling, bustling city of culture and people
While you see,
an overcrowded, noise polluted town.

I see,
the road to an unknown journey
You see,
cracked tarmac littered with potholes.

Because, while I like to daydream,
you like to plan
While I loved like a storm
you loved like a drought,

I lived in the little things - like inside jokes and playing the guitar
while you dreamt of more, like weddings and a fancy car.

you and I are from two different worlds
that can never be combined,
So with that I leave behind
something that could never quite be defined.

The colours of the world once danced for me,
But now they stand, all grey, though if they moved I’d barely see
Music painted dreams that nourished my soul,
But now it drowns the turmoil I can't control

Does it hurt when she treats you like a shadow of the millions,
because she’s the light.
Does it hurt, when you realise you only believed you had a chance
while you were just playing into her elaborate dance.

Even if it does,
you keep living
in all the things you never said
hoping that somewhere, somehow
it wasn’t just all in your head.

I know that it stings to know
she knows exactly how to reach you,
she just never does.
But for some reason, the thought of her
still makes my tormented heart stir.

So why the sadness that you’re over
when you never even really began?
Why do I mourn the life we could of had,
when it was never more than a daydream,
now a source of pain.

It hurts me that you didn’t stay,
I feel it everyday,
But I guess what I really want to know is,
Does it hurt you like it hurts me?

what if I’m waiting
for something that will never come,
what if I was not who I am,
what if I never questioned

what if I don’t want to look on prospects drear
what if I want to be the mouse, not man-
who only lets the present toucheth thee,
to not be a human
that guesses an’ fears.
What if I accept that
even the best laid schemes
gang aft agley,
that often my whimsical dreams
are to keep my actions at bay
tucked under my hat,
kept from leading me astray
because after all Burns said,
in proving foresight might be vain.

And maybe a humans life is what I was destined to get,
but I will not be stopped yet,
though plans may falter and not be met
I will keep here set
In my human form of pain and regret.

Is it better to have loved and lost

than to have never loved at all?

Well—you tell me.

Every time I see that face,

I wish I could turn you back into a stranger—
so the sting in my chest could fade

back into ignorant bliss,

unbeknownst to the pain of love.

When I look at you I see
the boy I told,

“I could never be loved,”

who smiled and swore
he could see the love that exudes
from the cracks of my soul
,
What beautiful words

that once lit up my heart,
now make it scorch,

and burn.

But even through all that...

I still miss you.

And I miss you that little bit more

when our song plays on the radio,

and when I watch our favourite movie—

again and again.

It’s the third time this month
that I’m listening to your voice note
you know, the one before our first date
I mouth the last words with a sting in my eyes
‘see you tomorrow my love.’

I say,
I hate you.

So why do I still feel sad

it’s over?

So please tell me,
because I still don’t know
is it better to have loved and lost
than to have never loved at all?

Tonight I will have my last dance
for this is my last chance
before I bid this whole world farewell
I wish for one last dance under your spell

When I first saw you it was as if hummingbirds sung
a familiar rhythm, always on the tip of my tongue.
It was like a pull of my soul
So now I wish for you to make me whole,

I wish again to hear the soft chimes of your laugh,
fleeting yet haunting like wind through glass
all whilst my heart pounds like a shaman’s beating staff.
I wish for the silky fabric of that midnight blue dress
to once again be under my hand’s caress.

A message for my lady in blue
Tonight, I wish to see you,
and if you will grant me entry into your trance
Let me be your last, your final parting dance.

Once upon a time we played pretend
Once upon a time, the game had to end
Once upon a time, I lost a friend.
Once upon a time, I reached my end.

Carefree was I, and carefree was she
In a world of our own we were free.
Safe and sound in our beautiful little dollhouse
Before it crept upon us, silent as a louse.

It came suddenly and took everything we had
The windows of our house grew cracked
The glass became cloudy, we could no longer discern what exactly we were.

Our house was empty
and so were we.
Darkness took over her and me -
Perhaps something they could foresee
But of course they never told me.

Now I have no shoes; my feet are bare.
I am bare.
I stand paper-thin, about to tear.
The cold wind stings, and the rain mats my hair.
The sun burns my skin— but I cannot care.