Look up! You fill the skies and demand attention that cannot be distracted. You make the stars jealous with your moonbeams. Come with me and let us once again get lost in the stray beams of this rare moon to slowly find ourselves again in the darkness that once contained our light.
I am a difficult person, twisted in my own difficult ways and no one can touch my heart, but it’s only you who lives inside it.
You are my hardest slaughter in love, and you make playing with the blood look like a game for two!
I would move mountains, redirect the oceans and capture clouds just to stand next to you. One. More. Time. Are you crazy? They mock. If it doesn’t burn a little then what’s the point of playing with fire?
At times, I have gotten tired, feel sick of what I do. I feel like hue and cry to express myself of all the things I let die. A place where I don’t feel the need to apologise, not afraid to let go. For I find myself mesmerised by you, through the rambles of my soul.
Even years later, I see you in your timeless glory, my eyes will still be mesmerised awakening my soul.
In the night to day, love love love- that may you have gotten or lost. That’s why the poetry, makes a symmetry between metaphorical cohesions, in the tunes of a flute or the dreams of the mute!
It’s not the nights of fiery passion challenging the moon but rather the moments in the morning when she is sipping her coffee with her glasses on and it fogs up as she takes her first sip and she crinkles up her nose and smiles at me staring at her. It’s the gentle elbow nudge during a movie pointing to the man on screen with a smirk to tell me that he’s as particularly handsome as me. Its these looks and nudges that move mountains, more than that is created when two stones are rubbed together to create fire.
Fight the stubbornness in my bones, it’ll be the greatest battle you’ll fight, you will have to pour love down my throat and burn down these walls I’ve built. Perhaps then I will drop my weapons and invite you in, after we have buried and burnt down the corpses.
This is how I sent you a message and asked you to kill the demons I was fighting within. Instead of bringing in your sharpest sword; you take a cloth and rope, gently cover its eyes and tie a rope and lead it out to allow it to walk away.
It shocked me! This is how I knew you were the one. I knew that if I’m ever caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, just being alive, you’ll greet me with the same kind of mercy. Not the fancy dinners, expensive clothes or cars, not the diamonds or precious stones! This is the love I wanted to feel in return for showing my scars.
The hardest step you need to take is the blind step. Trust it, it’ll be the most beautifully tragic step you’ll ever take that’ll connect you to the parallel universe in your mind. It’ll always be your first slaughter and your first sacrifice, it’s what happens even before you roll the dice. It won’t be perfect, it won’t be nice, it’s what you got to do so you don’t need to pay the price.
I wear the universe backwards and go fishing in the clouds. I imagine putting the stars into my coffee and two spoons of sugar into the sky. I’m too busy dancing with my imagination than to even tip-toe with reality. I’m playing hide and seek with the two rocks in the sky, day in and day out. I’m going mad they say. They’re right! 🤩
Every island has a shore and none of them are mine, our fate decided not to intertwine. Salt-stained skin and a choking throat, I’ll come home floating in a sinking boat.
The mute lamppost watched her dance in the shadows. When the light was flickering on the empty street at dark, that night will never be on the colour arc. To make someone feel the way you made her feel; is to trade in your soul for a slice of pizza. Left by the garbage cans across the street. Abandoned. Her love tied to a lamppost, it’s better off alone.
I want to go places people dream about, I want to go places people talk about, I want to be in the places people never see. Places where it feels like the street lamps were hung just for you, there are fewer cracks in the sidewalk so you wouldn’t fall, there are more flowers on full bloom just so they make you smile. Maybe this is what love feels like, less like coming home and more like being lost in familiar places.
There are 2.866 million people in the city tonight. Each breathing fire, like the flames they ignite you see shining so bright. They’re the city of angels, they’re monsters that roam the night, they’re warriors born to not give up without a fight. Although diverse, their hearts beat in time to the city of lights. I stare and write poetry about it. With the large rock that casts a faint glow against my side of the Earth for company; I wonder if it was him who conspired for this moment to be?
Hey you sailor, drift away from the harbour pull up your anchor and set sail to the horizon. Take off your blindfold and hoist the flag high, the wind is your guide and the sun and moon play your compass. Cut off from the mainland, the saline water beckons you and every grain of sand cushions your feet. Drift away into unknown waters, so you live to know them all!
I live for the night.
I live for the lights.
This skyline is etched in my veins. You can never put that out, no matter how hard it rains.
I wonder, if the sunrise ever looks down on us inhabitants, And holds its breath as the beauty of life overwhelms even that of the sky!
The little dark girl with kind eyes, knew when she had to use the knife. Dreaming of something better! Perhaps she wanted to be somewhere further. Her mind did not find itself to him, ‘she doesn’t want to be married’ What a sin! She didn’t want to receive love; She wanted to see how much she had in her to give, And that is entirely different from dating, marriage, relationships, and one night stands.
Never fall in love with a poet, for the stories that they tell lies a little piece of heaven, and a little piece of hell. The little dark girl with kind eyes, didn’t believe in all his lies.
She denied.
Sometimes all it takes is one cup of coffee. It had taken her many years to build the walls tall and strong, but for him she always left the door unlocked; And on that fateful day he knocked! It’s like someone had finally responded to her ‘lost and found’ flyer. For some inexplicable reason you were here. Even though in the last 20 years our lives hadn’t crossed paths, you were right here.
Oh the things that you’d love to hear from people you know you will never hear from. So when they do, you are deaf and misconstrue what they mean. Isn’t that funny? I took my soul out of my pockets. Like origami that has been folded and refolded and worn at the edges with alcohol and coffee stains, greasy finger prints and smudge marks.
A cup of coffee maybe? Even the dustiest corners of my mixed-up soul dressed up to meet you. I ran as if to meet the moon.
Together — under the fancy dome of skylight that emitted glowing confetti, we compared our souls. Years later he had aged so gracefully with grey hair and folds across his chin, yet his charming smile and aura stirred a blush within. The perfect stranger was finally a friend; the puberty-hit girl never imagined she would meet him where time would never end. All it took was a cup of coffee.
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