If you saw
yourself
in my lines
then
yes,
that poem
was about
the
fictional
you
in the eyes of a
Writer

Your "No"
browsed through
my writing
flipping through
stories
and ended
at the beginning
of a new
"chapter 1"

Here's a call
for all those lost souls
trying to find their way
relax..no one does..

A call for those depressed
about about missed opportunities
that might have lead them
somewhere else
relax...regret nothing..

Here's a call for you
I know how you feel
unloved, in love with unreciprocated love
alone, lonely, isolated, drunk, voided,
relax... there's nothing wrong with you
because I too feel the same
.. you're not alone

Riveting riots
of ruckus
roll, stroll and crawl
away from
flooded, bloodied, red eyes
leaving a
pure, smooth, soothed
soul
with an open
window

There are moments
under the sun
where my heart
remembers warmth
and beats
a blush to
my cheeks

Today
the sun showed me
my value
I shone
like a precious
stone
standing
alone

I took a step back
a kiss back
a stare back
a laugh
back
dna
I
dnuof
flesym
a gniod
etelpmoc
elcric

Why not.
Not why.

"I feel old", I said

"Time travel" they imposed

"How?", I exclaimed

"Fall in love", they replied

Mashed up

               mash up

                             smashed up

                                             crushed up

                                                          got back up

                                                                       glued up

                                                                               suited up

                                                                                        straight up
A
              G
                              A
                                            I
                                                        N

I will not allow you
to replay your
past relationship
featuring me.

Throw that tape
Direct a new one

Scene 1
Take 1

(snap goes the clapped)
cutting all strings
with the past  

SILENCE

....Rolling ....

I fel(l)
in (.....)
t(o)o hard
I felt
hea(v)y
and my
heart
brok(e)

It's not
age that matters
look at (y)ou
y(o)(u)'re the
mos(t)
ageless being
t(h)at I
bumped
into

"Look at the moon"
he said
"Here have it, with the memory
of me"
she said

The tabs of my mind
miss your fingers
skimming through them
index first
middle next
till you find yourself
running till you
find
thoughts of
you

"I saw
somet(h)ing
in you th(a)t
g(l)owed
in h(o)liness"

Baby, break me more
there's nothing
that turns me on
than the sound
of the cracks
as they mark
my heart

Break me more
for my muses
yearn for broken
chaos to ignite
that burning passion
gliding and guiding
my hand on that
blank paper

Break me, my dear
for I have conjured
spells that translate
into novels and poems
that stir my soul
only when it's
broken

Break me
I have fallen
for
broken

This time,
I wore
a parachute
before
I jumped
off the
edge
of
fa
ll
in
g

When your
heart beats
in a series of code
that your mind
has yet to
decipher
praise your gods
darling
for you're
evolving

I shed my skin
with the
falling leaves
and saw myself
glow
in the dreary
weather of
Autumn

Your butterfly flutters
cut the inside of my
stomach
every time
I pass a blooming
flower of
your memory

Head first
stumbled on the pebbles
of doubt
as it cautiously
stepped on each one
testing the strength of its base
before moving to the next
because, "now we know better"

Eyes then
scanned the surrounding
as they slowly blended
what they see and what they saw
into one beautiful reality
because "time"

Touch after,
the skin since it passed over
the heaps of days, months
and years that aged gracefully
into the most intricate lines
that are shunned by many
but I praise
and call "wrinkles"

Smell later
the musky smell
of your current being
fermented with experience
rich taste and oh so "you"

Fall,  
away from the warning signs
since falling now
sounds like such a
good idea

My pen knows no shame
the paper doesn't judge

She's in between
what I want
what I hate
and what
I never
had

Woke up
cuddling a bottle
it was no longer subtle

My love for this potation
has become an addiction
and no longer a mental transition

Body shaking
asking for more
sobriety scared me
it might be a bore  

Woke up
cuddling a bottle
.... no more
"at least I'll remember
this one" she says

She spoke of dreams
and chasing shooting stars
under galactic blankets
that covered them warm...

He kissed her quiet
"Shhh darlin'
you're doing it again..
you're reading my
thoughts"

The music of you
is too strong
that's why my poetry
is silent

I fell
for my
own
assumptions
of you

Shrug it off darling,
all birds
need to fly
some know
their way back
others
find new ones..

Shrug it off..
some birds might
stay and dance
with every
shrug..