The street where we used to walk together with all the memories telling ourselves the street is our favourite place, now you walk on that street with someone else .

-

You are the sun which I see every day but there are days when clouds don't let me see you.

But I still keep some hope to see your glimpse

-

My mind wandered in a garden of angst
I roamed a little too far
that an exit was nowhere to be found,
no matter how rapid my pace was,
I was still strayed away
deep into that dire garden.

Little did I knew that there wasn't any exit made, my mind was indeed the sole exit.

-

I will still miss him.
As I grow out of his skin.
But if he asks to see me,
I will always let him in.

I'll invite him to walk
round these brand new marble halls,
and show him all my castles,
each one standing so tall.
We'll tour around inside my mind
and i'll show what i've built.

That I cleaned up the mess he made
and i'll tell him, "child, feel no guilt.”
he made me who i am today,
the foundation of what i've become.

And I hope that one day very soon,
we can learn to coexist as one.
But until the day that he comes back,
I'll let him watch and see
as I put him back together
and turn a broken him into me.

-

too many thoughts,
too many emotions
all knotted up
inside this little human.
I lay it all before You
in the quiet pockets
of the night
and wake up,
my soul poured out
eager to receive
gentle spools of sun
and crisp morning air
rising once again,
with your love
and forgiveness.

-

Dark whisky and an inky gaze, friction's needle long run past the record, it was at this point that I realised that I write poems for the world but I only read you.

Cloaked by night with moonlight masks,
we lay under the stars and understanding
we could be brave if only for the night.

Brave, before the world took another breath.
Hours later, at your window we watched sunlight spilling dreams and our bravery waning.

The world took a breath and I realised, I write poems for you.

-

Forgiveness
is a fragile ask and it slips
from the silence and shatters
like a sunset scattering on the sea; sending
fragments across bottle-green waves that seldom spill onto the shores.
As the sky falls, I sink searching among shredded shells that wash ashore; please,
return me a peace, a seaglass sliver
of solace before the sky
splits a scarlet sunrise.

-

It's midnight,
and the only thing worse than heartbreak
is the quiet emptiness of apathy.
As I wash the dishes, I tell myself I love you.
It sits stranger on my tongue, heavy in the silence
and I continue scrubbing absently at these porcelain bones.
I know I can rub away the wear
and shine them life like last spring -
but to press citrine petals to soured eyes
is a dud cry for preservation. It's too late
for saving and the dull refrigerator light glowers
at our leftovers. I can pick blue flowering
undertones in the grey until I am threadbare
but spring is long gone and winter bleached
a time forgotten.
It's past midnight now
and my fingers are wrinkly and numb.
The silence has bloated from my sighs
expiring, and the moon is neither full
nor smiling. It's too late. I ask thin air,
how do I know when it's time?

-

My house is burning blue with the ghost of you.

And call me arsonist but
these restless hands know only of warmth and I'll gladly lie
furled in silk-spun fabrications,
tucked into the folds of your memory.

Do not read this as a smoke signal.

This heart knows only of pain and I'll gladly stoke ashes so it spills poetry.

-

Oh..society.
When you brainwashed me with formulas
of how I should be.
Shaped me and destroyed my individuality.
Schooled me and fooled me.
Told me what I could and could not see.
Took me and shook me.
Of my urges to be free.

-