days of sweet rain and
scar-less skin
have long been gone.
these days summer leans
on my window,
handing me nothing but
cold flame, but
i have changed.
this time, i know what i deserve,
and i deserve more.
gb.
so this is how it feels.
i never imagined it to be
this hard.
outside, the snow glistens
but behind the doors
are creaking floorboards.
i feel the waves
moving
inside my veins.
my skin
tastes of salt,
it screams.
"A poem in a difficult time is beautiful flowers in a cemetery."
To a Young Poet
— Mahmoud Darwish
she holds a cup,
jasmine petals floating.
she breathes in
the scent
& the moon shied
away.
I’m tired of trying to understand
why some things end. they just do.
no matter how hard i try to analyse it, what went wrong, what i did wrong, it’s not going to put things back the way they used to be. things happen. things end. i need to accept it, let go, then try to move on.
You stole
my thoughts,
my words
with such subtlety
I hardly
noticed it.
Happiness seems
to have weakened my guard.
I am left
with a dry ink &
a blank parchment.
Frustrated mind but
a satisfied flesh & heart,
I think I could live with that.
almond orange
on the bay area. words,
not needed
at this moment.
lips part, weakness is
left on the knees —
forgotten.
colliding lips
share a single space.
dare oneself to strike a match
and don’t be afraid to get burned.
rain does not
always heal a dying leaf.
sometimes,
it takes more than just water
to quench a deeper thirst.
