I knew something as kid
that now I have forgotten
Time tricks you into thinking
you are going forward
I was chasing being brilliant,
So they told me stupidity
was the prize of intelligence - I get that now
But I’m yet craving sagacity,
Then will I truly get it when I get the chance?
Because perhaps what I lost
is an ignorance that I’ll never recover
And I’ll never be as smart as when i was dumber

Close your eyes,
just sleep,
with your hair
tickling
my ears,
hand in mine,
relaxed,
beautifully
at rest,
Asleep
as I dream
in-depth
awoken
to your beauty.

I was lost in the dark of forest.
Once a beautiful place to be.
In the shadows of tall green trees.
I felt happy and peaceful under branches wide and strong.
Protecting me.

I often sang the song of lovers
while peeping at a warm sun.
At night I slept the sleep of dreamers
While moonlight kissed me on my cheeks.

During day I kept on dancing
in arms of invisible tunes.
Of a breeze so soft like silk.
My colors blooming
pastel shades, bright and smiling too.
Caressing your eyes, comforting you.

Now it’s another story.
I’m so sad, can’t even speak.
My beautiful forest, gone.
Fires and sour rains took over.
And I,
just a little wildflower,
once happy but now I weep.



Shell ✨🐚

Just one;
and the crowd disappears.  
Not the noise,  
but the ache beneath it.  

Your robe sweeps  
like the edge of a memory  
too sacred to name,  
too silent to forget.  

I didn’t ask.  
Didn’t shout.  
Just reached,  
as if the gravity of healing  
could be borrowed  
in a breath.  

Blood listens.  
Shame stills.  
Every fracture sings  
beneath skin mended  
by mercy  
I dared not deserve.

You turned.  
Not to scold,  
but to see me,
the me behind the reaching.  

And that touch?  
It was not mine.  
It was yours,  
returning everything  
I didn’t know I’d lost.

It’s rained.
Crawdads swept up on the street.
I chase them down with small bare-feet.
Across the street, there rises steam.
The neighbor makes hot oysters sing.
Carolina, is still that child—
She’s in my heart, she’s roaming free.
No need to brush your hair, little Bee.
I like it stringy.
I like black feet.
The story here is one of Me.
It’s where I copped the name “Beezee”
Where I road bikes and scraped my knees.
I ducked and dived and climbed up trees.
It’s forever and a day so sweet.
Nostalgia is my favorite street.

I love the sound of rain
like christmas and a candy cane,
I love the sound of Thunder
like halloween and laughter,
You and I go together
like forever.

Healing doesn't come from
revisiting a wound

It comes from releasing it