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In the soft light of November I remember
I don’t know what led to what first; the warmth in my embrace, the cold side of my bed, the soft Christmas songs whispering the arrival of a new season. How ironic that forgetting was how I remembered the memories that survived Memory is a cruel tide rushing in only when the shore has grown quiet again, when I finally stopped searching for your face in crowds, stopped replaying the end like a scratched vinyl that’s when your name came back to the tip of my tongue, weightless uninvited like a ghost tapping the glass just to prove it still knows the way home. And maybe that’s all love ever…
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Tired, truly
Tired, truly. Of words that fall out reckless from careless tongues; half-formed, half-thought, like they were never meant to mean anything at all. How can’t they see or understand pain unless it’s theirs to claim? How can their eyes never learn to read truth unless it flatters them? Tired, truly. This thing once called common sense now feels rarer than peace, rarer than listening. This blindness to another’s ache. How strange. Tired, truly. Of being weighed, measured, and still found suspicious for just existing without apology, for being ambiguous. Tired, truly. Of being the quiet storm holding the walls up when others crumble. The twenty-four-seven adult in every room; steady,…
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My words
In an ideal scenario, my words would be for everyone but some like thrillers, while others like suspense; Drama, where others prefer RonCon Similarly, my words won’t be picked by everyone And I’ve made peace with that My words are not for the conformist Not for the pretentious Not for the egocentric Not for the trends seeker Not for the devoted religious Not for the shallow hearted Not for happily-ever-afters My words are for stripped souls who are not afraid to let it all show The ones who find comfort in comforting others The nostalgic who understands time-travel My words are for the quiet observer For the stargazer and the…
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When life settings influence your inspiration
There was a time when a bird landing on one leg would prompt a pensive verse, when a drop sliding down a glass of iced water turned into an ocean under my magic pen, when an elderly couple holding hands summoned the avid poetess within. Today I stare at the fan. At a blank page, at empty walls that would’ve been filled with quotes and colorful visuals. An empty space used to send me searching for unique artistic expressions to grace the void that surrounds me today. My foggy brain and anxious hands can’t come to an agreement. But it’s about time an executive decision is made by, I’m afraid,…
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The last heartbeat in me
And even after the sun did twelve laps even after your claws came out even after your true colors showed the last heartbeat in me was somehow relieved I was able to breathe I had agreed to just let it go I had made peace with this popular belief that habit was stronger than love but I guess I never saw a feeling bloom on concrete Eternity falls short and I still can’t understand why, but it is one of those battles you just fight hopelessly to win and stay alive And no matter how many red flags were waved you go back to sleep hoping or thinking or wishing…
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Routine and familiarity
Seven corners, too many walls, battled windows, an old white door simple closets unknown history hide of long gone muted voices echoing the empty night The colors of the night match my soul cold like blue, dark like coal my heavy eyes the day unwind until I drift, oh, quiet mind Bedtime calls, ready to fall feeling safe in all my walls a soft reminder of the clarity one oddly finds in routine and familiarity
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The difference is
Somehow we crossed paths first but never crossed hearts Or one ran over the other on its way to check-out Was it yours or mine? cause I still think of reasons and seasons when you let all your demons walk out in a waltz Only to help me conclude it wasn’t me you walked away from but the thoughts in your head wondering what society would say And I can’t help but wonder how it’s such a shame for the twinkle in your eyes say it’s here you’d rather stay but you built an imaginary scale where two or more bodies balanced for a chance to conquer your undercover malice…
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In all my wishes
I wish you could feel my thumping heart every time you texted to tear me apart say you can’t come by after disrupting my time I wish you would’ve seen the excitement on my face cause I hadn’t seen you in more than twelve days and it was overdue having you in my bed feeling your embrace I wish you knew how much it hurt when you made me derail, a perfectly clear path for you but flip me around like another page, another prisoner in your jail I wish you knew what monogamy meant to some of us and the million hints you couldn’t get whenever I’d vent I…
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You’re not weak
In a world where, once upon a time, some human gave way to who and what we’re meant to be night or day: You’re not weak for feeling the motions You’re not weak for feeling the weight of life more than other humans may You’re not weak for seeking help The same way you’re not stubborn For going away, for keeping people at bay You’re definitely not weak for shedding tears You’re not weak for avoiding your fears nor are you selfish for chasing happiness in whatever form, way, or shape You’re not weak for closing your eyes when life takes a bite at your joyful side You’re not weak…
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Snow in July
The cows would come home, snowed in July, lilies bloom in the Sahara the Nile gone dry before a single atom in your body learns how to commit to one I saw a way out and I took it didn’t come easy a decision but sometimes better be a quitter had to eat my words for even thinking you could take me seriously, shapeshifter ashamed to admit my naivety ashamed to have wandered aimlessly for on the shakiest of grounds I searched for stability Not my problem anymore still truehearted you’re not but can’t help but wonder, did I get away for being too wise? Is it always only the…
