the currents breaking in

find words

that can’t be washed

away

the pain, though tossed

in still waters, is not lost: it

spreads in the black

absence of you

and lingers

with the obstinacy

of rock-clinging things

how do I grasp these words

to cut through the gray matter

suspended into the silence

the mass of it rises

up slowly, blearily

mutely screaming

if i surface,

i’ll lose my hold

on you

and all these words

these words

will be forced

into being 

“Ugly.”

“Stupid.”

″Worthless.”

Day after day she would spit those words at me. Mom said to put on a brave face, don’t let her know how much it hurts. So I tried.

″Loner.”

But she knew if she was persistent, my brave face would melt away and drown in my tears. Each word stung like a hornet. It felt rehearsed - as though she spent hours sharpening her tongue to hit a direct target: me.

″Nobody even likes you.”

I began to avoid her at every turn. I stayed in the library at recess and ate lunch in the bathroom. But she always found me, every day she would scratch at my heart until it felt hollowed out, enough to give room for all my fears to reside.

″I would hate myself if I were you.”

One day, I was eating in the stall and I heard her come in. I froze and peeked through the crack, praying that she wouldn’t find me; but she wasn't even looking.

She stood in front of the mirror and, just like I had imagined, stared herself hard in the eyes and practiced saying those words that were keeping me paralyzed in fear.

“Ugly.”

“Stupid.”

She hissed the words at herself with an intensity that surpassed all I had seen before. I shivered, imagining how quickly I would crumble if she performed as well as she practiced.

″Worthless.”

I held my breath as I waited for her to leave, certain that she could do no more, only: she practiced my part too.

I just love you so much that

I can't get over you

I love you so much that

I just need a touch from you

I need a look into your eyes

I need to tell you how much...

I loved you!

How much I need you

How much you meant to me

How much you can heal me

How much this is so painful

And how much of pain

I'll have to live with 

Without you

I love you sooo much that

Even my dignity couldn't 

Beat up my love for you

Your love burning my soul

And my dignity cuting

My lungs open to bleed

Aches and sorrow 

And here I am

Lost. . .

In between 

Of

Burning love

And

Beaten dignity 

#love vs #dignity

you bend the truth 

until it cracks 

you watch it bleed 

and you plant roses 

on my grave 

and expect it to grow 

you knocked the words out of my lungs 

and expect me to breathe 

through the ventilator of you 

you kiss lies 

with the words I love you 

you whitewashed the past 

with white out

you blot out the blood 

with your lips 

you lap up my feelings 

with your tongue 

and push down my throat 

and devour the bitter aftertaste of your sickening love

you dust my tongue with sugar 

and got me addicted to the sweet taste of sin 

you origami the truth 

and make it beautiful 

you write poetry with your lies 

you sing lullabic tunes 

stripped from the songs I sing while 

I fall asleep in your crystalized 

eyes encased with chipped truths

and you hold me and tell 

me this is LOVE ........

but I know otherwise 

to say anything 

because you keep me warm 

you keep me warm

I am a blood sucking parasite just trying to feel 

all I wanna do is feel alive 

My words catch and roll

Like marbles in my throat.

Choke on the inarticulate,

Unreleased into stagnant air.

But do not despair!

For the night is far too quiet

For utterances of instability.

So swallow these stones

Coated in mania and chaos

And save this madness that creeps,

Unforeseen and steep,

For the coming dawn.

Anger is a new sharp knife,

while Pain is the dullness of war and strife.

Sadness is the pouring of rain on a gloomy day

and Happiness is nothing but a sunny ray.

Love is the cackling of a fire,

warming you up like fries in a fryer.

Jealousy is your teenage bully,

and Depression is nothing wooly.

Joy is the bright Christmas tree,

while Shame is a useless plea.

Trust is a loving hug,

Fear is a murderous thug.

Anxiousness is a consuming pressure,

Calmness is no new refresher.

Being Lonely is nothing fun,

Braveness is like standing in the sun.

rose are red

The heart is broken

and so it bled

violets are blue

like bruises you gave me

reminders of you

flowers are mauve

lilac scented

placed on my grave

I sat down feeling discouraged

Not feeling encouraged

From others I rhyme different

Wondering if I should write another?

Many think I'm just a poetic novice

Like one lost in a dark forest

Questioning to pick up my pen

Should I attempt to write again?

Exotic sweet laced scent

succulent rivers of juice

heavy with desire

encroaching into

deep pools of longing

tropical splendor

ripe lusty mango

embraced with light

dripping with passion

intoxicating the tongue

breezing in

like a hot wind

unclothing my soul

breeding sensuality

orange enchantment

of flushed breasts

soft core of

ravished need

naked maidens

explored with eager

hands and anxious

fingers, searching

for soft spots

shivers of moisture

thirsty mango tree arms

reach to

hollowed clouds

inviting lovers

to follow

seductive trail

savoring mangoes

in tiny drops

of morning sun.

I knew death was inevitable. It will happen to me and everyone around me.

But I never expected my little sister to die before me.

At first, I thought it was a dream. I still think that I'm in a dream. One day, I'll wake up.

Little Fiona will be jumping on my bed, shouting for me to wake up and play with her.

One day, I'll be happy again.

The thing is, it didn't feel like losing someone. It felt numb. I wouldn't say painless, what with all those tears rolling down my cheeks. But it felt surreal. And I'll never forget this feeling. The feeling of grief and such sadness that maybe someday, I'll have to experience again.

Her room stands still in the particles of dust laid by the sunlight peering through the windows. White sheets were draped over everything. It was my only proof to myself that she was gone and this was real.

Every night, I strip the white sheets that covers her bed, and sleep on the white puffy mattress of hers. Believing that the next day, I will be with her.

I'm holding onto the strings of hope.

But they are fraying so quickly.

I still remember the funeral for her. The day we both wrote our wills together. Our wishes for our family and our friends. Except, she would be the only one dying soon. But, it's not true. She isn't dead. I won't believe it.

I will never believe it.