A pen and a paper
lying on the table.

The paper asked the pen,
“Why don’t you write?”

The pen replied,
“I’m not motivated.
I don’t know what to write.”

The paper said,
“Write a love letter.”

“Why?” asked the pen.

The paper replied,
“Because I want to be kissed.”

The pen couldn’t stop laughing
and fell off the table.

the wolf howls, no reply.
the clock ticks but never chimes.

who outlasts the tomb?

we walk the halls
to remember footsteps,
shout at the walls, why!

who do walls remember?

whispers and laughter,
the weight of every sigh.
the shadow that weeps
and the child who cries.

the wolf howls, no reply.
the clock ticks but never chimes.

what do windows see?

faces pressed close, lovers kissing.
the tears from a bleeding sky
when the rain
taps gently for all lovers.

walls echo laughter and longing,
and windows dream
of time gone.

the clock is ticking.

who outlasts the tomb?

the wolf howls....
each heartbeat a plea against the void.

When lovers die,

where does their love go?

Can anyone find it,

or is it lost forever?

Emotions buried deep
within the heart,
like molten magma.

When the heart
can’t hold anymore,
it erupts —
like a volcano.

Poetry starts flowing,
unstoppable,
like rivers of lava.

A thousand lights illuminated

in my heart

when I fell in love.

Every day felt like

a celebration

of life

till it all ended.

There exists an ocean

of words—

beautiful and meaningful.

Yet, sometimes

someone finds

just one word,

powerful enough

to turn a life

upside down.

There is no knife that cuts my skin

Just too many bright reflections

Good words are screaming from within

And blood might help confessions

I’ve read so many similar words on here

In some weird way that fills me with fear

I can understand it’s romantic, I guess

But for once in my life I wish to hear less

Little red drops, they won’t help the pain

Big chunky bracelets on your wrist

It makes you feel like you’re insane

Yet still you remain, and still you insist

When the storm inside

keeps tearing you apart,

how do you stay calm?

How do you not fall apart?

I write—
neither for name
nor for fame,

but to remain sane,
for I fear
I may go insane.

Too much hurt,
endless pain—
the heart can
only hold so much.

Words are my gateway
to release what I
hold inside.