“I would watch you burn over and over and over again just to see your sins scorch your skin for eternity.”
Closure, Part Two
original
Reading You
Original PoetryAnd with every poem I read,
it’s you I see between the lines.
A Poet’s Curse
Original WritingYou bleed out a thousand incomprehensible thoughts onto paper and suddenly the world commends you for being a fucking artist.
To Feel, or Not To Feel?
Original PoetryHe used to feel things so deeply,
yet on the day he left me
he felt nothing at all.
World Views
Original WritingI don’t know what he sees in me, but I pray it’s the world.
A Breathless Desire
Original WritingYou make me feel a little like the way I feel when I see the sky alight with the fire of a sunset.
You take my breath away.
Bitter Kiss
Original PoetryYour name was on the tip of my tongue
when he asked
“why the bitter taste?”
after he kissed me.
A Middle Eastern Sunrise
Original PoetryI felt you in the Eastern sunrise
just as I felt you in the Western sunset,
but you weren’t there.
I saw you in the overlapping mountain peaks
and in the layer of mist caressing the snow-capped tips,
but you still weren’t there.
I sensed you in the mid-winter breeze
as it lashed it’s claws onto my skin
but you weren’t there next to me.
How can one be everywhere
without being anywhere at all?
Paper aeroplane
Original WritingHer soul was a poem that would never reach paper.
Dissipate
Mental Health Activism & AwarenessThey’ll ask me: “what’s wrong?”
with the expectation of hearing “I’m fine”
to which they accept
and move on.
And so do I.
Inside, I’m far from fine;
I cry at everything
not knowing why.
I sleep a maximum of four hours a night.
“I’m fine.”
The offers for help are vacant.
“It’ll be okay” soon becomes
“maybe you’re overthinking things a little?”
You can help me with my maths homework
but you’ll never help me solve
the puzzles in my head.
One plus one doesn’t always equal two
up here.
You can’t help me get rid of the monsters under my bed.
“I’m here if you ever need a shoulder to cry on”-
fucking liar.
That offer is far too soon retracted.
I’m here for you if your boyfriend dumps you
but that’s all I can offer you.
My problems are not as shallow as that.
The depth of my problems compete with the ocean;
what will drown me first?
I guess I’ve learnt over the years
there’s only one hand that will reach down for you
into the abyss,
whilst you’re drowning and gasping for air.
Trying to gasp hold of the last fragments of sanity
as they dissipate between your fingertips.
That hand, my friend
is yours.
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