[POEM] You, and you, and you.

You are such a drug. Just you.
Simply the outline and voice and scent of you.
I put my finger on it, and it dissolves into
The mystery that is you.

My heart is such a pit. Dark.
Tumbled into an unending intoxicating spark.
I tremble against it, but I melt into
This love, true and stark.

I could cling to you forever,
And happily feel the ache in my knuckles. Ever
Wishing this sweetest pain into
Me deeper. Leave me, never.

You are brighter than the sun,
Searing into my vision until eyes, closed, run
With tears that melt and twist into
Sight of you. My seeing done.

My galaxy, my swirling eternity,
Never leave me, my coloured universe in entirety.
I pray myself over and over into
Your arms, my precious deity.

[Poem] In so many words

I love you, in so many uncomplicated words
That trail through my mind, flickering and
Indistinct like stars amid an ink sky full of
Spent wonder. Eyes could never truly capture
This beauty, and my soul can only just
Manage to form words that might confess
The wonder of what you truly are.
I bleed all the world’s colours from my chest.
Hollow with wanting and full of love,
Always undulating with joy, loss, sorrow.
Unbearable mirth, continuous warmth
And turmoil of every shade from the milky way.
Each hue feels full and lush. I would be
Nothing without them. Breath pointless.
Words meaningless. Twinkling skies just
Eons of endless, cold wonder that I would
Not want to face. But with you by my side,
Among my tide of pouring colours tumbling
From my emptied chest, I face it bravely.
I face eternity, knowing that just for a
Speck of it, I am yours and you are mine.

And in that knowledge I can breathe.
I am no longer choked by fear.
I feel fear. I feel trepidation.
But I also feel you. The most precious sensation my soul has ever known.


I love him. So much so that sometimes it turns into pain.

There are times when we’re not perfect, but never are we ever fully broken apart. I don’t think we ever could be.

Undramatic, unconditional love that just -is-. It’s so silent and simple. Even when depression built a wall between us and tore me down, he still stood waiting patiently, accepting me for who I am.

I will forever count myself lucky to have experience love, respect and kindness from this man. Lucky to finally see what love should look like.

My anxiety gives me the deepest terror, it tells me I might lose him. Because I once came so close to that. I would change my entire life if I had to, and to be honest I really did make so many changes, just to make sure I could make him happy.

And he was patient, he made his own changes, we both moved forward together. We did everything we could and compromised, so we could keep the promise of love and happiness together.

I miss him always. He is mine as much as my body is mine.

[POEM] Hands

So long I have been kept away from your touch.
Eyes glazing over as you drifted further from me.
I couldn’t even yearn for it, though I wanted so much
To understand that need again, and how I could be
Myself once more.

Light came back to me, like a thousand falling stars
Slowly, maybe one or two at first. Until the sky
Is littered with drops of light, between Venus, Mars
Pluto, love and war and death run away, shy
Of us once more.

Each brilliant collision against the earth of my bones
Woke me, and fed our longing. Your hands come
Near my lost soul, darkened eyes filled with cyclones
Of furgid need. Dripping ink, cleaning off the humdrum
World once more.

Purple tears rest upon your hand, drying into blots
Heart shaped and wonderful. I could not think
Of love without you. As your hands swipe away clots
From my stained cheeks, and we bleed and drink
Sky hues once more.

My fervent need. My forever sky. My dreaming
Wakefulness. Passing by the mundane soil below,
We adventure upon the starlight tails of streaming
Cosmos. Now will my strained heart bellow
Your name. Once more.

And forever more.



I catch a spark from heaven

I feel in love when I read this


Night unfolds
Under a november moon
I catch a spark from heaven
As moonbeams flare my fingers
Stars dip into my inkwell
Spinning across pages
Binding lines together
Firing the ebony
In monochrome of abstract.
A flowerbed of sky..lanterns 
Glow platinium
Pushing darkness to pulse radiant
Dew scents night's heartbeat
Moving sepia of perceptions
As an opal sakura  breaks shadows

The winter wind dreams of spring...

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[POEM] Living in other worlds (inspired by “Other Worlds” by Trivium

We’re dreaming in color
But we’re living in other worlds
Breathing in other worlds

“She’s drowning”

His eyes light upon his found prize.

He has searched through heaven, with hope in his heart.

And there he found her, next to his body, far gone from his spirit.

Her eyes were vacant as they stared through him,
Gold leaf painting the sky as it bled for her, for them.
Every cloud was finished with a murder red trim
As if someone had sliced off each one’s hem.

Blind, and breathless, a cage for a bird was her body,
No longer a vessel for life, as she found herself lost.
Living in another world. Breathing in the other worlds.

She choked on this grey sin, though he was holy.
Her form, cut with hues, was crippled from heavy cost.
Dying here, while her soul reached out to other worlds.

You’re like a song within a nightmare
A thought within a scream

Lances burst through with colour on solid flesh,
Desperate tears run ink black down pale skin,
Living within her own mind, she finds the colours
Of her torment painted on the sky, in its spears
And dripping languorously. So beautiful. So Fresh.
Eyes wide, she had seen her fate before, akin
To a dream, unlike a nightmare, fleshed behind doors.
Her fingers tremble against her death. It burns. It sears.

His knees grit beside her broken body, fingers seeking her relief.
His hands coat in her purple and red ink, her black tears of paint.
His eyes watch, as the dark figure of death swirls like a thief.
His soul prays, hoping this world lost traveler finds a saint.

To rid her of her colorful sin.

To mend the broken bird of her suicide.

To heal his knowledge of her, and forget what he knew… That he knew she would choke and die in this world, when she was connected to so many.

We’re dreaming in color
But we’re living in other worlds
Breathing in other worlds

Her, broken. He, welled with grey tears.
Fingers forever stained with her years
Of blooming, hue filled pain.
A rainbow of sorrow.


[Poem] Blessed

Finding the right words to express joy
When it has been a longtime stranger…
Learning to feel its elation through my bones
Is hard enough, but to entrap it with words?

It’s as if I have found an old childhood toy,
And am struggling to make it work. Danger
Is in the back of my mind. Chance blown
As my fingers clumsily untangle it in thirds.

The tip between happiness and pitfalls
Is far too near to rest easy within glee.
But I still clutch onto it, not too hard,
In hopes I can keep it near.


[Inspired by Yaskhan] A Poet’s World

A poet was born under the same moon as any,
Languishing in the pain felt by just as many.

She felt her teardrops fall past her lashes,
Cracking down her face in rivulets and slashes.

She was not born, she was forged, within her own furnace,
Hoping that one day she could express herself in earnest.

Lament surrounds her like a cushion, so commonly found.
This mortal realm seems to bring sorrowful sound.

Brothers and sisters are humanity,
Misunderstanding each other completely.

A poet’s world is the same shape as any other she has seen
Nothing too different or special than any other place that may have been.

She trusts in beauty that lies within every space,
Just as pain hides behind every face.

A poet’s world simply has more words. No fate.
As if we could be born too early, or too late.

[POEM] The Tree

Winter shifts its bone white sheet of cold
Across the world. From colours oh so bold
To bare and barren our world slowly turns.
Each tree leaf sets itself aflame and burns.

Orange, sunlight and blood trickles off
Their heights, into the pavements like troughs
Of colour and brightness. And then, they sleep.
Except for one. She hides within herself so deep.

The others look upon her with pity as they
Prepare for their winter slumber. They lay
Their leaves down like covers on the ground
And let their hibernation come without a sound.

“Is she even a tree?” one asks in hushed
Voice. But she stood green, not flushed
With tender colours of blushing leaves
As the earth around her dies and heaves.

Her friends have all shed their skin, as
She becomes lifeless. Dead? She has
Lost her life, but her branches still grow.
Perhaps her nesting time is just slow?

Pity whispers on the wind as one day
She finds herself alone. Some, they say
That she is bare and lifeless from pain.
Not able to feel slumber ever again.

So she stands half alive, grey trunk, alone.
Until she finds vulnerable, nude to the bone
And exposed, to the sharp touch of Jack’s
Hands. She sometimes wishes for the axe.

But what can a tree do, when she forgets
How to die for the winter? Full of regrets
She misses the feeling of spring between
Her fingers and weeps over flowers never seen.