the unnatural changes
that my body is gifting itself.
I'm not sorry about
the unusual transitions
that my soul is going through.

(Read the caption)

-

your touch still slides down
my warm void curves.

You're not here but
your aroma still lingers down
my air pipe to my lungs.

You're not here but
your moans still rhythms down
my eardrum to my brain.

You're not here but
I can feel all my senses
aligned to your presence.

-

I wanted to write a poem, but
you wrote one on my lips and
deciphered it with your moans.

-

I am hurt, and
the world gets to decide
how deep the wound is.

-

the feathers on the dusty page,
with delicacy and memorable!

-

I wrote and amused my words,
and the metaphors were my muse.

-

I know I am trying,
do I need to prove it
to others who feel
that I am not?

I know I am not enough,
do I need to express it
to others who see
that I am failing?

I know I am struggling,
then why do they
offer me a garland of thorns,
celebrating my defeat?

-

-

-

Self-love is often
misunderstood
with self-centered
character,
which eventually
turns into obsession,
and we are still
learning how to
practice self-love.

-