When do you know
you're growing wise?
When you feel
you know far less.

My curled-up dreams,
hidden behind shadows of your touch.
You don't have any clue,
about the nights we gave birth to the sun.
Even though we just met,
I'm sure, in a past life,
our voices tangled
beneath the same sky.

Time is forgiving at times
Giving you things which last
Meanwhile you are preoccupied
Worried about the finish
Looking at the glass emptying
Drinking but not quite enjoying
Restless for some blissful
Forgetting to savour the sweetness
So becoming bitter with emptiness
Perhaps anger which boils over
At things not being as expected
However as this concoction rages
Something else is simmering
Waiting for you to realise
Revealing itself with tenderness

The moment I started to think I'm incapable of being loved-
Was it when they took what they wanted, unprovoked?
Came too soon,
Was it when I was "a little bundle
of joy"?
Did I learn then, that I was just
a toy?
Was it then, when my father
walked away?
Was that my price to pay
for being born that day?
How could it be-when I did
nothing wrong?
You left without a word,
left me here all along.
Did I learn it before I could even
speak?

Was it when, the man, old
enough to be my grandfather grabbed my hand?
Did my breath hitch, as he whispered those awful words?
I was barely eleven, it didn't make
any sense,
his breath on my skin, the feeling of his fingertips grasping for mine,
as he'd say with a smile, "Our fingers
are making love,"
Was it the first time?
Or just the first time I remembered?

Was it when the stranger
grabbed my *******?
Was it then I was infested?
Did I learn that hands could only take,
not to give?

Did it start all  too soon?

A welcome warning,
Don't look at those who are mourning.
They'll **** your soul dry,
With their own want to die.

Through that, the track is a breeze.
Just follow my footsteps with ease.
Well, maybe not the stumbles.
We might take a few tumbles.

The circle of life rotates fast,
It's so easy to get stuck in the past.
Far ahead is the present,
To reach it would be pleasant.

Be careful not to overshoot,
The future will come to boot,
Worry into your system.
Ones like "I should have kissed him."

Let my words be a guide,
I won't be here for the long ride.
I figured it out too quick,
and now every second is a *****.

Thank you for the blessing of your presence.
I rarely get to indulge such essence.
Good luck traveling on.
At least I'll enjoy one last dawn.

Funny how tears fall sometimes—
uninvited, unexplained,
without any reason or rhyme.

Our minds, so overwhelmed with emotion,
as soon as we feel any sort of devotion,
any sort of desperation,
any sort of euphoria,
any sort of nostalgia.

Funny how we see crying
as only a representation of melancholy and misery,
when in truth, it encapsulates all the seasons—
from our sun-kissed days to the pale winter’s moon—
and makes us feel oh so much.
Makes us feel everything.
Makes us feel human.