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Unheard-of Apr 2017
10.09 am

I used to wonder why everyone wrote about love
in novels and poems,
like it was a disposable glove

but then I realised one day
that we write about what we don't understand,
in the hope of understanding it

for love cannot be defined
or explained
or described.

It can only be a feeling, with the sole purpose of proving we're alive.
Logging back in after a few years and reading old drafts such as this give me flashbacks of late nights writing in the dark, proving to myself that there was more to me than just feeling numb. Now I realise that I was far more.
Unheard-of Apr 2014
He, was in love with her plays
her masquerade
shakespearean days

Her fences
Her armoured-

Her past
her facade
her lovely charm
and, learnt, laugh

The curtains close
the room brightens

But he'll fall in love again
the next night,
when they reopen.
Haven't been on in a while but this poem was one of my drafts before I logged off.
Unheard-of Feb 2014
11.18 a.m

I didn't think it was possible
To wake up missing someone
That was until,
I dreamt of kissing you

Every touch. Every look.

So now I wake up
Missing you.
Last night
Unheard-of Feb 2014
I stopped eating our favourite food
the taste was like your lips.

I cut my hair
only so your touch wasn't engrained.

I gave away that dress
the one you liked.

those albums... i deleted
because i couldn't hear the music
i could only hear your tapping fingers
when you sang along

you know I did many things
but the one thing i didn't do
                                              and still can’t do

Is forget you.
Unheard-of Dec 2013
When i die, please leave my gravestone blank.

For a name is just a selection of 26 letters
a lost blue print, among many lost inventors.

Over time my name will be erased
from the harsh erosion taken place
i'll beat life at it's own game
before anyone can say                    "what was her name?"
Unheard-of Dec 2013
They used to think the world was flat
like a heart monitor line
after someone had passed.
The philosophy
was that if you sailed far enough - to the horizon
you'd fall
and plummet off the edge                                       u
                                                               ­                o          n
But see, then they found that the world was r            d
like a cycle-
the cycle one's life,

but everyone knows
that when the cycle ends
the flatline begins.

So who was actually right?
the meaning of life
Unheard-of Nov 2013
i want to be the centre of attention
in your eyes
i want you to look at me in my vulnerable moments and think
"gosh she's beautiful"

i want you to love me for who i am
even when I have messy hair
scrunched up in a bun on the top of my head
or when i have a bare face
my pale complexion
with millions of imperfections.

i want you to love my brain
the way i think
the way i talk
the way i  a n a l y s e  things

I want you to trace your finger across the
small ridge on my nose
Stare at the    o u t l i n e    of my rouge lips
and gaze into my eyes like you gaze at the stars
when you feel alone.
oh so                                                          alone­
i want you to study every pixel of me
every inch of skin
and think-
*"wow, i want to be with her forever"
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