be gentle with us
or don’t.
the stars still fall without permission.

but if you must touch us
touch slow.
for we are poets,
woven from breathless skies
and midnight trembles.

we feel too deeply,
like a violin played in a burning cathedral.
it is not a fault
only a fire
that never learned silence.

we do not fall in love,
we crash.
like galaxies meeting at full speed.
we love like we are dying,
we live like we are fading,
but in our minds
we fly barefoot across constellations.

our hearts
are black roses
growing among the red
soft to the gaze,
sharp to the soul.

you will not see it in our steps
or in the way we drink our tea.
but we are stained glass
already cracked
still catching the light.
and if you press too hard,
we will bleed beauty.

a poet is not always seen
sometimes just a smile in the corner
a sigh in the crowd.
we are everywhere,
soft and wild.

we tell stories
so the silence doesn’t win.
we wear masks
not to hide
but to protect the soft
from the cruel.

we notice the things you forget.
the chipped cup.
the tremble in your laugh.
the way sorrow dresses like strength.

and when we love
we love your entire world.
not just your name
but the way it sits in our lungs.
not just your eyes
but the way they flinch when the past whispers.

we adore the broken
shards glinting red
like stained mirrors
still daring to reflect stars.

we have kissed the devil
with trembling mouths,
left pieces of our soul
in places no light touched
and still returned.

we are fragile
yes
but not weak.
our hearts are ruins and gardens
at once.

so if you come close
come gently.

because when we hurt
we hurt in verses.
and when we fall
we don’t land.
we become.

so this is your only warning,
written in blood and ink:

be gentle with us.
or
watch the beauty bleed.

be gentle with us
please.
or don’t.
it is, after all,
your choice.

but know this

we, the poets,
are not built like the rest.
we are the black rose
among gardens of red
too rare,
too delicate,
too dangerous.

we feel with the whole sky.
we love like the sun
is seconds from setting.
we fall,
not softly
but all at once,
like shattered stars
scattering over wounds.

we live small
but think wide.
in our minds,
we are always flying
between memories
and make-believe,
between hurt
and hope.

don’t be deceived
by calm faces.
we wear masks
stitched from poems
and laughter
but behind them
we are velvet chaos,
quiet storms
with bleeding edges.

we, too,
have danced with devils
and kissed pain
like it was wine.
we return
from places
we cannot name
but we carry the fire
in our chests.

a poet could be anyone
walking beside you
a poet could be everyone
breaking silently

we collect fragments
glances,
murmurs,
empty chairs.
we see beauty
in undone hair,
in chipped teacups,
in rain that ruins plans.

and love
when we love,
we don’t stop at skin.
we fall into souls.
into scars.
into shadows.

and when we’re hurt,
we trust slower.
touch softer.
speak less.

so now you know
this heart,
it does not bruise
it blooms in pain.
this soul,
it does not break
it spills light
through its cracks.

so if you come near
and if you care
then please
be gentle with us.

Fingers stained blue
from your favourite
fountain pen,
a smudge
on your arm
encircled by gold bangles
that clink,
like an introduction:
clink
clink
‘she’s here.’

Dark wisps hide,
your watercolour eyes
darkened by kohl,
wrinkled with your
crooked sunrise smile,
soon it becomes a laugh
that sounds like
summer—
all cartwheels across fresh grass,
sticky lollipop smiles,
a wrinkled shirt
creased with time.
Even effortless
looks beautiful
on you.

I love
every ink stain
and clink,
every wandering comment,
and every laugh
that’s a bit too loud—
you couldn’t even
begin to fathom
all the love I hold
for you.

"so you want it to be the same?"
pretty much, yeah
"in that restauranty place?"
exactly, even i am not sure where was it.
"leather seatings"
yep, brownish and sincere
"you wanna hear a new song, talk, sing, play?"
last time was special, he sang
and asked my opinion
i want to play this time
and him to sing along to my strings
then a small talk
but since that's an order i want a big talk
you know jokes and mentions of families
behind the cameras, maybe some memories
and the nights of tears
"that's too much you won't have the time needed"
i know, just wanted to try,
first part then, i hope he does it all singing
"do you trust him"
i do, this happened twice
"alright, your order is under processing
we'll get back to you shortly
we hope"
thanks, can't wait

Medley of patterns
Flow onto the paper
Sorting through the mess
That is my head

Colors dance on the sheet
Never skipping a beat
Both Performing for me
And speaking for me

Feelings reborn in hues
Color and colourless
Let them flow
Together let’s grow

Nature, art and poetry
My only three needs
Bringing colours to life
Meaning to words
To be understood
only after long gone

Frozen beauty
breathtakingly
preserved in his
running watercolour,
rough charcoal,
faded photograph film,
A beauty forevermore-
stilled yet alive.

On a velvet night,
so silent and heavy
that the breath of life itself seemed an intrusion,
Vincent smiled and bid the world goodbye,
he closed his eyes
and left to join the landscape of his paintings