You come home in tears.
I slowly sit next to you, just like I did for the past years.

I try to tell you that it’s fine.
But the words don’t go past the ****** throat of mine.

All I can do is simply lean on you.
I wish I could give you hugs too.

I’m just so close yet so far,
Unable to gently treat your bleeding scar.

You come home with him.
I can’t stand him,It’s that nasty grin.

You were crying over him just a few days ago.
Now, it’s as if you don’t even remember the sorrow.

Heat fills the room, as you both melt onto each other.
Soon, the heat turns into pain, and breathing gets harder.

You get mad at me, when I break things,
Yet you don’t even say a word when he swings.

You sit there in tears, as he leaves our house with swollen knuckles.
Even after he leaves you’re on the ground, as if you’re tied down with shackles.

Once again, I sit next to you as I count the bruises
and the open wounds, blooming on your skin like roses.

I hate myself for being so powerless, yet so greedy.
I want you and your attention, am I too needy?

I could make you happier if my hands could reach you
and your hands too.

But that won’t ever happen for me.




Because I’m merely












a cat, that’s what I happen to be.

So close yet so far.
You leave me alone in our house once again as you leave with your car.









You come home with him.

They say words have powers.
Each like little blossoming flowers.

“Kotodama” they say.
Japanese people have acknowledged how strong words can be that we use day to day.

Every word has an influence,
Exists within everyone’s mind, causing quite an ambivalence.

Do we really recognise how heavy our words can be?
Do we really recognise how light our words can be?

I for one, am not sure.
A part of me is still insecure.

I’m unable to scale how much my words might change.
This might just sound strange.

I still don’t know if my words were too weak to keep them safe from their fears.
Or if my words were too strong that it encouraged them to leave me in thousands of tears.

I don’t trust myself with words.
They can be majestic as freely flying butterflies or as dreadful as brutally shot down birds.

A single droplet rolled down her cheek.
It was the side that she barely showed and called weak.
The crystal clear droplet landed on her palm.
Creating a surface that seemed so calm.
Little did I know that single drop carried uncountable emotions.
From the piled up distress over the years, unable to find a solution.
If only I were more reliable,
If only I were more advisable.
Yet the only thing I could do was wipe her tears,
And to gently pat her back to momentarily cast away her fears.

Just like a cup of tea on a rainy afternoon.
It was a feeling I experienced once in a blue moon.
Calmness settled in and welcomed me into it’s soft embrace.
I let my weaker self to talk, my usual self had disappeared without a trace.

The chilly wind brushed against my cheeks.
As the light left blinding streaks.
I realised we were both looking up at the same sky.
As we both let out a fascinated cry.
The dusty scent tickled my nose.
As the droplet landed on my wilting rose.
The crystal clear patterns blurred the outside.
Leaving me alone in silence with all my worries aside.
The dusty drops drowned the noisy city.
As if it was trying to leave me alone for a brief moment out of pity.

The clashing waves whispered into my ears.
Standing in front of the Sapphire blue,
The warmth from the pale softness under my feet wrapped away my fears.
The calmness of the never ending ceiling left no clue.
The time passed slower than the emerald jewel departing into the foam.
The whiteness cast a shadow over me as it sang freely,
If only I could be like them and carelessly roam.
The clashing tides seduced me into it’s embrace, warmly yet eerily.
Will I be able to sink into the royal blue darkness?
Or will I be drifted off into the cold and empty waters
As the I closed my eyes and left myself to the painful sweetness,
“Nothing really matters”
The words she said flashed before my eyes.
The mesmerising yet deadly ocean,
resembled her under all her disguise.
It was the hidden side of her that she kept for so long, all the beauty and the emotion.

I was split into two when I was
six
I met a new me
He would cover up my feelings, his job was to fix.
I was split into three when I was ten
I met a new me
She put up a happier me, her job was to bring back the friends I lost back then.
I was split into four when I was thirteen
I met a new me
He was the smart one, his job was to get me out of troubles that I couldn’t have foreseen.
I was split into five when I was fifteen
I met a new me
He was the aggressive one, his job was to protect me from anything that was mean.
I was split into six when I was sixteen
I met a new me
They were the loving one, their job was to spread excessive love so it would keep me serene.



I was split.
I met a new me
They didn’t know who they were unlike everyone else.
Who am I?