One of these random days I'll be hungry for more of me beside myself. I'll stare at the glitter night sky and sleep in the sun. It's been ages since I felt the warmth of home where I'd sit by the fireplace and let its heat bother me.
Why would the heat bother me is a different question. Because if I had super powers I'll still be looking for pain to understand what I'm feeling. Or fear. Or both tangled with one another.
After all, what I fear most is not fearing anything. And very few people know I have a fear of heights but guess all I've been doing is looking down. And not all falls lead to death.
Sometimes, you get up and not tell anybody. and not everyone wants to be saved. Some just want to fall gracefully. I just want to get up afterwards.
Sometimes I feel the cold doesn't bother me, other times I shiver under my blankets. I can't tell if I'm cold or scared.
And I'll still freeze right by that fireplace anyway. Or burn, who knows?

-

And not once I find myself dying, but standing,
if in front of mirror then invisible,
if among people then unnoticed,
if on a busy road then permeable,
if under the lights then transparent,
if loved then untouched,
if touched then without consent,
if there then not looking back,
if here then not saying it,
if awake then empty,
if asleep then waking up late,
and not once it felt any different than dying really.

-

The dust settles on my skin and grips it a little too tight
I am feeling older yet somehow more, alive
like I've already lived through all this once
like I've already been
here before.
looking at you
blind in love

I feel wiser still stupid enough
to close my eyes, once more
just to feel again what it felt like before.

I mean maybe this time?
when I open my eyes
they wouldn't be crying for
some something that was never mine.

-

1. TWENTY TWO
after Taylor Swift.

When you were 13 you wanted to be 22. you wanted to have a blast 22nd birthday. you didn’t think you’d write a poem about it but some things are best described as fate. except this poem. this poem is not about fate but what you’d do with it. you’d hold it in your palms and embrace it like a story. but you will not tell this story to anybody until you’re asked to. because you speak a lot but talk too less. because you’re bags of untold stories and you get bigger every day. every day is a number but when 365 of those numbers come together they become a mark. a scratch on your body. one more tiny scar with so many stories etched inside of it. why don’t you write those stories they’re bursting inside of you and it doesn’t look like fireworks. it sounds like bombs though nobody is hurt but a tiny tiny part of you. a tiny scar appears in that tiny tiny part of you and only you and God knows what’s inside of it. you remember when you were 13, you wanted to be 22 and now you are 22 and you don’t want to be 13. and you no longer want that blast birthday but those blast 22 years of your life back.

-

I think red goes well.
on blue.
I think, I think.
pain is colourful.

-

• the human parts of me •
to me what it feels like to be a woman
is very very close to what it feels like to
be a human, like to wake up with messy
hair and stare at the swollen skin under
my eyes because we all have a little bit
of heartbreak on our pillows.
like to be so full of emotions just like your
next door boy and have the same stories
to tell but with a different ink, a different
paper and maybe a different audience.
like to bleed on random days and
sometimes not so random days but it's
all poetic how my body never runs dry.
like to be just like you and me and us
because we're all the same just as much
as we are unique and different and special.
like to be a part of the world and to also
let the world be a part of me because I am
human, but that's not all I am even though
that's the first thing I am.
like to live and breathe and breathe and
live like they're one and synonymous
until the day they aren't.

-

BAD CINDERELLA

I do not have Cinderella legs,
or a witty brain,
or flawless skin: spread across
my broken bones.
I do not carry a brave heart
and my smile is not
wide enough: to give you the sparks.

my shoes slip out but
I will not: run from you.
my words are hazy,
full of fear, full of doubts,
but I will: kiss you.
my heart is broken,
still it beats: for your lies.
smile at me; the mirror can't see
what I see: in my eyes.

I am not perfect.
you are not enough.

but when you sneak a peek in my heart
through your sleepy eyes;
I'll turn off the lights
and. love. you. naked.

-

you're feeling blue,
your smile is twisted into an image of the pain inside.
I, bring my hands closer to your face and let you see the yellow of my eyes.

-

you are a constant
in my life.
even when you were here
even when you are gone.
I just take your value
to be 1
for you might be a constant
in this equation
but it really doesn't matter
if you're there.

-

which can capture the things
that do not even exist.

-