Love has been,

a peanut butter & jelly
love sandwich;

I went on to spread,

my heart & emotions
one side,
my mind & thoughts
on the other side;

And of course,

I was the one caught
in between it all.

If I could taste your tears
would you serve me a piece of your love
Every piece of the pain disappears
but the cracks still remain in your heart

The walls of my world are just shaking
in my deep thoughts—I am caving

Our moment is amazing,
till it ends in our farewell tears: a sight to see
But it’s so hard to see your beauty behind eyes dew
and it’s the hurt to say my last, “I love you”

I reach for her- so lost
she waits for me to rise up to the occasion
but I am an escalator with a line so long,
She takes my hand- so warm
breathes on my neck, to the sting of its cuts
desperately sinning; these eyes being so cutthroat  

I feel her in my mind- overthinking
wondering if my actions push her away when
she senses that my mind speaks out of another
She slips from my eyes- I’m crying
afterwards she kisses my eyelids, granting me
the ease to show my true face; it feels so strange

She is not like the rest- her sleep disrobes me
as I watch her pleasantly sleeping by my side;
I take care of her as my wife, love her as a sister
protect her as my child, respect her as my superior
hold her close as a piece of my heart, close away all
that tries to harm her as a barrier door-

I have no sense of fear when she’s around, but
I am so fearful of who will take care of her
when I’m finally gone

Tell me,
do you think about me  now, and then;
Do you think up the version of me from  
now, or then— either as a noun, or just  
as an afterwards friend?

Yesterday will always be yesterdays –
Today’s are just one day;
Every tomorrow is a day we’ll never know

These are all our Everyday’s.

Landed on my own footsteps, I must I've been waking
in circles – with my gaze lowered. I crafted another poem,
weaving it with the chords of a guitar hidden beneath
my tongue, and shared a golden joke for the silver lining
of my soul.

My eyes, like polished bronze, seek a third reason to embrace
love, — fully aware of how swiftly I would chase after it, if
it dared to stay just out of reach. Oh, his path remains an
endless circle.

Adios— and kudos to those we wished to have known better;
those we could have cherished more deeply than the first
lovers who introduced us to the art of Love.

Fit me in your glove of memories, holding onto the finest
moments of your past— walk me along the winding journey of
your heart. That road, with its unexpected twists and steep climbs,
that even the purest of all love encounters, has its share of bumps
and hiccups. Hic— all those hickeys you tried to conceal beneath
a high collar, were mere whispers of affection hidden from prying
eyes. Yet, I never felt the need to mask my own; it was as if I was
denying a piece of the love I always held onto- for a period.

In the flavour of unspoken words—we rarely conversed
face-to-face; instead, we lost ourselves in endless texts and phone
calls. Reflecting on that frustrates me, for I could pour my heart
into a fleeting love poem, while the words I longed to share in
person danced just out of reach, trapped by my mouths writer's block.

The hopeless romantic hopes for love just as fiercely, but it
feels hopeless as those who feign strength right after their
hearts have been broken. Its so easy to lie to yourself.

This story felt pointless, it's so obsolete,
Some pages were missing at the corners, it was just so incomplete.
I smile for a moment till I lose myself,
Been counting foreign dollars, to add a little more worth to my wealth.

They told me all wishes only came from an old lamp,
They told me all dream worths were all wet and so damp.

Darling I felt broke, I never had richness to own.
Just poor me a shot now, I'll go drink all alone.
Light up a dull pipe, with tobacco  to **** the empty atmosphere.
Blow up some puff clouds, try to blow all my problems till they all disappear.

Live young to finally at the end of time. **** how I'll get so old.
Cough out one last breath on this earth, I paid my problems to be sold

__

Put me in place of your heart with no coaster –
unguarded and raw; leaving behind my watermarks.
Elevate it to the brilliance of the one who reignited its
passion, revealing the architect of new love.

I shall attune myself to the melancholic rhythm of
your heartbeats, my fingers gliding over your skin,
eyes closed, crafting your visage in the canvas of my mind.

Even as your kiss bares the cold of your pain,
bestow upon me a devastating kiss, and I vow to ignite
your heart, even if it means extinguishing my own flame.

Must you smother me any less than you’d
love to do, even as the tendrils of your intoxicating
poison envelop me in a silent demise?

Yet, I would pen odes of devotion to you,
sorrowful stanzas of my longing, only to
weep for them in the aftermath.

why is the voice of all
my disappointments;
louder than the cheers of all
my success;
and why I do I have to constantly
search for happiness,
yet easily be found depressed?

Manicure the landscapes of my gaze – a far-off forest whispers
sweet nothings before a lover fades into memory – growing
weary; the taste turns bitter, like rising *****. Lingering sweetness;
the flavour of honey clings to my lips, a hive buzzing with our
fantasies woven in dreams – yet this imagination comes tethered
to a swarm of bees.

A television muse; she’s a show looping in my thoughts,
preying on my moments, I’m praying pretending to be
faithful, my hands are little more faithful than I was to you,
never keeping you in focus.

We must have believed we were creases, yearning to love
beyond the inevitable wrinkles – beautiful, flawed beings;
yet even a beast knows it must seek another to thrive.

How humans are so vile.

Treading upon the fragile shards of time;
moments cascade into oblivion, as the echoes
of my bones resonate with the agony of existence.
I seldom boast of my worth, yet my lips dared to speak
with courage. I sought my place among the stars, wandering
the glassy avenues where the imprint of your steps lingers
upon the meticulously laid path.

My mind, burdened by the weight of stony tears,
contemplates the thoughtless utterances that birthed
yet another futile verse. At times, I find myself gasping beneath
the suffocating pillow of my own uncertainties, surviving on
the fragile threads of hope, faith, and fleeting joy that last but
a week; still, I feel like an intruder in my own sanctuary.

Dreams drown in the merciless shadows;
the dawn's light offers them a glimmer of hope – a sanctuary
for the spirit among the awakened. I drift in a half-sleep,
daydreaming amidst a throng of fellow dreamers, our youthful
skins too tender to fade, a heart yearning to be filled with cherished
memories.

These sins bind humanity in shackles,
desperately seeking an escape from the labyrinth of their minds.
Oh, is existence truly madness? Yet, in spite of the suffering,
we pray to live another day. And so this fragment of life is
my grace, a testament to the fact that I have yet to meet the grave.

“I miss you,”
And that’s the fact I hate the most- aggrieved
By every memory of us, every grain of our love
Even if it was for a short while, cos for a short while,
I felt so happy to experience love again, to smile
Because someone made me smile, to laugh with
Someone in private, even if its for the silliest of things

                                                                                                    “I miss you,”
                                   And that’s the fact I hate the most- and it’s in such
                               an uncomfortable experience, that the mind tends to
                                 wonder in all its what if’s— but more so, I question
                            myself of whether I was the one more in love than the
                                                                                   both of us combined…

                                                    “I miss you,”
                           And that’s the fact I’ll always hate the most.

Brain explosion, pop like a balloon bloated up by the heat of a long summer,
None violent tendencies with such ****** hands, can I still call myself a non harmer?
Cuts and bruises beneath the skin of my feet, for walking long days on short miles.
Copies of programs, settings and ideas stored up in a brain in a number of files.

Explode.

A dead man would tell no lies yet keep a thousand secrets.
A new hope would be born in a small corner but built up of a thousand pieces.

Explode.

Day's of old times amongst these young people of these simular days.
Stacking up all that is the past in bales of hay.
Today is a Tuesday and tomorrow shall be another new day,
And the days before that came before moved on really fast and not always here to stay.

Explode.

The house in my brain has expanded by an explosion of the love and rage.
Could this be a new chapter in this story,  a turn over of a new page?
I  used to hang around with people with square faces while we were playing circle games.
I hung with new strangers with old family names.

Explode.

Smoke clears the air while the air is still bleeding.
Not too sure of where I'm going yet  I'm still believing.
Today was once my yesterday but I'm touching on tomorrow.
I have too much love in my mind, would any of you like to borrow.

Explode, now  my mind is  blown to many former pieces, come breathe in this brand new,
Now looking up to a Heaven, they know what is I ment next to do.

The empty space in my head tries to dream again
When faith starts to be my friend again
Oh, I’m not the same – a careless friend

The empty space in my heart tries to love again
When the feeling of love can be felt again
Oh, I’m not the same – a heartless mate

The empty space in my hand tries to feel again
When I lost a touch with myself again
Oh, I’m not the same – a hopeless mess

These empty stars will find me once again –
As my body rests on these foreign lands
I love to sleep on this Island bed.

Sleep always feels owed; one’s life
cannot be fully owned –
As we look for this complete rest, do you
rest your weariness on those you trust;

For even as sleep is the cousin of death;
would you still deny yourself true rest?

And do you deny the comfort of advice
from a true friend –
Or do you sleep on their words, under
the covers of your pride?

__

Genuine friends are much rarer than the fingers on
one hand — as only a handful can be counted upon.
They could be as numerous as the stars scattered
across a moonlit expanse, yet only a select few truly
cast their glow upon our lives.

This soft heart I say, can feel like a curse,  
For all the times it soaks up the hate, oh, how it hurts!
As with each tear that I shed,  
It all feels heavy, heavy like lead,  
Till the floodgates burst forth in a verse.  

And I must tell you,

A soft heart is like a sponge, it takes every cut,  
An open heart: a vibrant marketplace; so never to shut!
But it was once vibrant and bright,  
Now it feels so dilapidated from fight,  
Yet still it beats on, as a true work of art.

the scent of love has detached from my heart
a fallen leaf from a tree no longer bearing ripe fruit –
and I rest watching the other’s love blossom
off into the distance

and

an old lover’s kiss carries the scent of love
by the wind in between two lips – a secret kept
between the two… forever, lest they meet again

oh, what a great pain it would be.

Sticks and stones to break your bones
Stick your nose in being too nosey,
and you may end up with a ****** nose

The hardships of a man are his silent battles –
“you ought to open up more,” which opens
his worth to being diminished.

We only cry when the world is asleep, painting
smiles on our faces to render our outer walls
somewhat pleasing to your gaze.  

We fight private wars, striving to shield those
we love from the fallout – yet the scars we bear
are somehow unsightly in your view.

We’ll conform to your contradictions, offering
our utmost to project an image of strength for
the women, while our brothers are the only ones  
who truly understand our weaknesses.  

The hardships of a man are his silent battles –
and it is only his fellow men who can truly
witness their tears.

The air crackled; pre-*** tenses – with unspoken tension between
their eyes;  “please tell me you didn’t.” —a silent pause, “well, I’d
rather not,” he replied, a hint of passive aggression lurking
beneath his own shy’s.

“Can we talk about it either way,” —a silent pause, “absolutely not!
There’s nothing left to say; it’s all over, just like I am,” – he struggles
to find the right words to send her away.

“I refuse to give up, because giving up means allowing you to drown
in your own doubts– hey, it happens; but it won’t change how I feel.
Love is friction, but let’s not compare its love life to fiction. All films
are written, but our lives are unscripted” –

"Let's just promise ourselves to talk about these things"

I… was a dreamer trapped in a haunting nightmare,
a paradox of hope and despair; drying out these tears
with pieces of nothing – don’t fare so well crying in public.


These eyes are the window, to all unspoken fears,
cloaked in silence.


I… am a war between two formidable forces of always
wanting to embrace the world with love, and also the
fear of rejection that longs to keep me so vaguely isolated.

Stuck in this place, to stay and acknowledge,
all the time buried beneath the grains of time...

Yet another dug up watch with these bare hands –
I could have buried so many hatchets, only if I never
hesitated burying the prior ones time and time again.

And then,
like a tempest, emotions surged through my mind –
ah, I believe it could only be the work of a UFO,

And there she stood,
a tall figure, her fingers surprisingly short –
they nicknamed her Finn; a name laced with irony,
for she relishes the Adventure time in the depths
of my heart, soul, body, and mind.

And truly she’s a catch;
swimming so effortlessly, and gliding so gracefully
through the currents of my every thought…

                                                       ­     Finn the girl.

there’s a garden in my chest – I pulled out a couple of
weeds, buried a handful of thorns, choked a sunflower
seed that was trying to grow. growing sick of watered-down
versions of love, my soul sneezed; cheeks squeezed to utter
those emotionless words from my lips,
                                      
                                                       “hey, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

I'm just a frame of reality,
painted by the harsh brush strokes of life,

Black and white;
the grey areas are just the many things
I don't know- or try to paint over with just my words

                                         I'm just a poem!

Imposed by a scent of the back chatter,
behind the air of the hair tucked by your ear
once a soul that was merely an imposter
The intense pleasure continues on- waking up
to the sound of dawn; under the thinnest of clouds
thin as butter- as the sunlight spreads across
The edge of their world; as like two legs spread apart
with a promise of a night filled with wet love
Two lips are meeting in the yellow shivers, beneath
the huge gems of eyes, that hold out a jewelled pleasure

The two resting upon a bed made out of barley;
filled in intoxicating lines of brand-new sheets-
The smell of regret only shows as the rise of after cigarettes
The towers of greying tired eyes; numb under the tomb’s
excrete- the cold breathes of kissing with a cold heart,
lifts the fur of a lion’s haunches

***** buckled by the belt wrapped around one’s desire
at another attempt- it’s no stranger, then the grave on
the tongue of a perfectly dead conversation
And about then, he wonders how could he go back to
the past, once where they were just casual friends…

Truly for truly, did they not often feel
like everyone’s personal convenience.
So convenient for people to know them, — just to be
what’s in store, for them all to buy into their dreams.

How convenient; suiting people’s purposes so well;
well enough, as a worn-out suit; to suit those only in
a matter of addressing their personal battles, grievances,
qualms and historical hurts.

It must be so frustrating, to see the reflection of such pain
in these eyes; painted red from every tear we all had cried.
A mask in disguise; a disgust in the discussion of how
their given something, is looked later on as purely NOTHING.

Truly for truly, it must be worth the hurt,
for us to repeatedly be the better person,
around those who only give you and I the worst.
People are truly the worst; and so too
must be loved the most.

_

Do our lips & fingertips ignite
the searing heat of our kisses—
like glowing embers of a dying fire?

Your tender whispers linger,
a constant flame that consumes me.
Every passing moment, the chasm between us widens…

The fire of longing blazes within me in your absence,
it blazes even more fiercely when you are near.

My soul is tortured;
taught sure of many men's misfortune.
Black gods of the minds
who portrayed them,
And at times;
their faith given a Judas kiss that betrayed them.

In every awe of today;
tis the wonder of a tomorrow.
As in the outcomes shock;
is a lose of power.

To then live on,
at times is a game of chance.
All will watch every eggshell step,
but are forced into Death's little dance.

Life is but what looking glass
you view it as,
But it all cracks in time;
losing it's colour like winter's grass.

Whether to land on your feet,
or bend on your knees;
Only you of your heart,
knows your life's needs.

Holy or holey,
fired up or just a cloud of smoke?
A cigarette or lamp; which light represents
the light of your heart?

Action of words or just words on display,
practice what you preach, reap what you sow.
Do both in the actions of your word;
do justice to each apart.

Blowing in the wind or lead the pack ahead of it,
needle in a haystack, or a compass needle?
Teach the teachers to be teachers of teachers;
lead the followers into tomorrow's leaders.

Oppressed or blessed,
crowd pleaser or the brave out of the rest?
The freedom of chains to freely foster the shackled;
those thought to feel alone.

Rich or richness,
do you chase money or qualities of deep cares?
Fortune isn't based on possession, or deep pockets;
the worth of people should be your care.

Urban or rural,
high class, low or moderate; tears taste the same.
We all cry, bleed, and die without our wealth.

We all have choices to make.

I am the Clay, moulded from the tiny grains
Like a farmer of stars, tending to life's plains
My mission is to nurture, to heal every soul
The embrace of my essence; find your whole
  
I flow through existence, a canvas for flight
I lift you to heights, into the boundless light
With each gentle fall, I’ll breathe a life anew,  
From the depths of my spirit, I offer to you

I’ll give of myself, so your spirit won't wane  
Dwell in my heart, find solace from my pain

Quite evident, broken hearts tend
not to love again.
Loves in the air,
question is, will you breathe it in again?
Evident in those past experiences,
we hope this time it will be real to the very end.

Tis with a broken heart,
you fear so much to love.
But don't leave it to chance,
those not willing to find love, how do you
know it's time to give up?
The pain of such, is quite deep.
But as much as it hurts, out there is your missing piece.

It's all but a moment of hurt,
which feels endless, especially if
they were your first.
But you don't find the sparks of love without a few times of getting burnt.

To all the broken hearts in the world,
out there in this lonesome earth is
someone you deserve.

Don't be afraid to, SEARCH!

Tell me what is it like to close my eyes
against the brilliance of your smile,
Yet I still feel it’s warmth on my skin?
Like a breath held in full anticipation,
I can’t wait to take you in, before letting
you out; just to find my natural peace.

Those intense stares, sending shivers
down my spine, walking round the corners
of uncertainty within me – you remind me
Of a picture of glass stairs, that leads straight
to your heart; yet each step must be taken with
the utmost caution– you are delicately beautiful.

Each dawn, I find myself quietly haunted
by the memory of your tender caress,
The remnants of yesterday’s air infused
with your essence, drifting into the promise
Of tomorrow – I wonder at which moment you
will unveil your love for me, as one might
delicately pluck the petals of a flower.

“She loves me, she loves me not…”
I am still unravelling that enigma.

The emptiness: you’re so longing to leave behind the shadows
left behind your eyes; watching quietly all the things that start
to feel so summarized; building memories on every fibre
of your skin, like towers crashing down in their own defeat
as my eyes watch the young die younger, to feel a bit alive

“Do I see dead people,” be ahead of most people- “do I behead
people,” live a once lonely life, cos it comes with no sequel;
but depression, a subtle prequel- subtracting most successful
friends to feel equal. I fudged up: sugar butter, milk and cream,
but still don’t feel as sweet as enough

Been so hurt and wounded- “something I also know” Felt so
traumatized to act hospitalized- “something I also know”
Done so much good, to get bad in return- “something I also know”
Gave all your trust just to be damaged- “something I also know”
Tomorrow’s sun seems to bring you darkness- “something I also know” Been in the company of friends that betray you- “something I also know”

The loudness of depression silences you- “something I also know”
Had so much opportunity pass you- “something I also know”
Hanging around those feelings making you want to hang
yourself- “something I also know” Feeling all, you can watch is this
world’s poison, to want to poison yourself- “something I also know”
Tried to give another shot at life, to feel like you want to shoot
yourself- “something I also know” Please let me hear out the pain of
your story, rather than getting to hear your story while
attending your funeral- the pain you feel is a pain I also know

Misery demands a body; heartbreak offers up a heart as a
sacrifice— each coffin yearns for a cherished soul to inhabit, while
debt grins at those ensnared by their own habits, and corporations
thrive on the cravings of the addicts. Time adorns you with the
weight of years, branding you as “old fashioned,” we reach out to the
device of compassion via empathy —witnessing another's tears, we
absorb their grief…

To glimpse another's scars ignites our own anxieties, as we hastily
conceal our own cuts—solitary confinement paints a vivid portrait of
physical loneliness. A multitude of contacts on my phone can never
provide real physical contact. In genuine connection, some among
you only seek to uncover something valuable within us—they'll
transform you into Wi-Fi.

Thrusts of passion that follow our parting leave gaping holes in the
heart— a love that finds fulfilment in affliction; is this the tragic
affliction of love? It means nothing to love beauty, comfort, or success
—we all love things that are pleasing; but aren’t so pleased when
those very things abandon us.

Only the courageous dare to love the aged, the ill, the downtrodden;
the impoverished, the scorned, the grotesque; the unappealing, the
foolish, and the faltering— we all navigate the same turbulent waters,
yet we row at varying paces. Still, life can be astonishingly beautiful
at times – if you choose to see it.

Cotton candy;
of my sweetest dreams,
I taste whenever I fall asleep.

So splendid to be alive;
even in the sour moments,
of this treat of life.

All the shapes and lines;
taught the birds and bees,
the nestling of love,
and nectar of love's
pretty flower.

Life is sweet,
just a bite could tickle
anyone's teeth.

Find your peace;
and a piece of life,
to stick on your lips.


                       This sweet life.

Perceive, triest understand love;
      As a child, seeing many try;
As a young adult, I made my attempt
      Following in man's knowledge.

      Spoken, was their love;
Yet with a tongue rolled under itself
      Seen, some have claimed;
But without center of an apple's eye.

      Some do hid to mind;
But quickly listen to heart's feeling
      As only a few;
Hold truth, facing love's grip trap.

      One by one we fall,
Into the deepest parts of love
      For a large and long,
Number of us at a time fell in love.

      A nose dead cold;
Running it through snow
      At the highest of emotions,
But no being can subdue its drug.

      For love is many,
Beautiful, tragic, joyous, painful
      Maddening, sentimental, wicked
Ignorant, wholesome, challenging.

      But what then is love,
If not perceived as all understood?

I find myself so puzzled, in a web of my own emotions; pieces of
your skin pierces at my tears. Until those tears dry over, I remain
unchanged, still the same man – clutching at those pieces of you in
my hand. The haunting whispers of your voice blowing in my mind;
though I'm not a fan. But love can't be so coincidental, it has its cons
of density; a weighty significance— no matter, you still matter to me!
Still, when you spoke of making this love last, I pray you didn't say
it with lust.

And to fall in love is to tread softly; so let me down easy for the sake
of this soft heart. Even if I possessed the key to your heart, I would
still ask for your permission to let me in — to accept me as I am;
knowing we both sin. As your very breath, is inherited in a kiss
underneath my lungs; killing me slowly, a slow demise orchestrated
by the symphony of your love. Being the piece of oxygen trapped in
your glove —would you hold onto the memory of us, just for a little
long?

Circling my devotion around your name like a wedding ring; ruling
over my thoughts, my mind has crowned you Queen. And on this
battlefield of love; I'm fighting just to prove my love – processing
my words like processed foods; desperately hoping to nourish your
soul with every word.

It seems as though I've known you before; where in these past lives
we had lived — it feels like I've grown out of my old ways; and it
feels like you were that very seed. And if I'm to settle down, I need to
settle my old regrets. And if I'm to write out all of my wrongs, give
me some time to repent. And perhaps we'll be perfect lovers, if we
learn to love each other like friends. Yet, despite our efforts to be so
perfect for each other; we'll still remain imperfect in the end.

                                                           ­                       Beautifully flawed.

Sounds & pictures,
for the records to show
—today we're going to war

Grenade hearts; with all their
pent up emotions ready to explode
The sounds of guns in orchestra
of a thousand applauds
Ashes have made grey the floor;
as the after smoke chokes the globe

Parachutes blanket the sky,
black navy teal,—the day becomes night
Darkness roams behind a gun,
and with it's might, dissipates a man's sight
Blinded by foreshadowing, what follows
through, is it's omen painted black of blight

Pools of blood, shallow to a charging foot
marching armies depart blades of grass
from it's root

Children who sing songs with a gun
dancing unarmed under the sun
Thinking it's just a toy for fun;
what has this world become, but the result
of being the victim in front of the gun

                          ...we're killing our earth
Means we alone are just killing ourselves

Loll in a realm of no regards, shuffle the game of life like
a deck of cards — playing into the quest to uncover who
you really are. Each life begins with a question:
“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Will I be a nurturing mother? A father who can provide
for their all,” each life begins with a question – especially now,
as we ponder this curious phenomenon called life; is it still
worth it, at all. Cloaked in whispers of our cherished dreams,
the most fragile among us are those who beam brightly, even
with kinked teeth.

The gentle craving for a richer life is as tender as the insides
of our teeth — revealing everything we risk on the overflowing
platter of those we disdain; initially, it was a pleasure to meet.
Yet, I was lost in my role in this world at first – bestowed a name
at birth, still grappling with its significance in a titled world –
entitled!

Don’t we pretend that’s what we deserve even from man’s great
fall, who inherited their sin galore. I question it all. Don’t we
all act as if we deserve it all, even after humanity’s great fall,
which bestowed us a legacy of sin?

                                I question it all.

Her: All men are nothing but dogs!

Him: Yes, indeed… but have you ever pondered the breed of each man? Some are fiercely loyal, others stand as protectors, a few are brash and aggressive, while some are merely oversized infants. You get the stubborn ones, the overly playful bunch, or grumpy ones. And then, there are those wretched few who tarnish our reputation, who just love to **** all over on your pristine carpet.

All men are indeed dogs, just depends on the one you got.

As to be; a righteous figure, but to always
be burned by the world? Or the vilest breed,
in successful pits, but burning in Hell?
I guess we're all going to burn in each side of choice
in the end. You live by the sword, to die with
it—you live with the shield, to only defend.
You are the sly player, or played by the game.
They either call great of your name, or scold you in a
greatly shame. You are the writing on the writing of
the wall, or the wall to fall of rite.
You are the ruler of the dark, or the blind display
ornament sitting in a light.
You are the anthology of misery after success, or an
unabridgement of joy before loss. The mistreated employee,
or heartless boss. —Life is unfair—good intentions are rare.
And as to be; a righteous figure, but to always be burned
by the world? Or the vilest breed, in successful pits, but
burning in Hell? We all burn!

in the silence of my room… I
dance the loudest,
pray the longest
cry the ugliest,
laugh the modest,
dream the youngest,
stare at empty walls for promise,
break down the strongest,
overthink within a guilty conscience,
play out my scenarios worthy of their flowers
planting fields of doubt for all my anxieties
to have a fruitful harvest

in the silence of my room… I
am truly at my honest.

To witness the entire world bathed in a single hue—  
I must have been battling for ages, confined to the realm
of purple through these battered, violet eyes. Yet, I found
myself dreaming—gently; amidst a sea of blossoms that
blanket the earth, soft carpets for my tender feet; the
fragrant embrace of lavender.  

So intoxicating was the scent that the deeper I ventured,  
the more it constricted my throat, stifled by the words  
I longed to voice. I wander through lavender dreams—
bewildered and lost; forever searching for a tangible end to
this reverie.  I leap, I tumble, I labour, and I cry out—  
carefully navigating the edges of reality, only to become
ensnared in a daydream.

But aren’t the lavenders as enchanting as her gaze; a girl I
yearned to love, though our time together was fleeting.

We never shared that vision of a wedding day adorned  
with lavender blooms, yet still, I hold onto the dream  
where I walk in dreams of lavender.