I mourn

For the things I have lost
The people I’ve handpicked
But heedlessly let escaped
I should’ve kept them

For this hollow frame
A wreckage of crooked parts
Wanting to fit
But never seem to

For the parts of me you took
And never returned

For all the questions you left me
I never found the answer

Perhaps I never will


Like stars in somber nights

The first time they met
He came home with the widest smile
And with a throbbing heart
Beating so hard,
It reverberated outside his body
Filling the room with sound,
I felt his ardent affection for her
And from then on I knew she was special.

I could see her in everything he does,
I see her in his eyes,
Like stars in somber nights.
I see her in his mouth,
He spoke of her,
As if magic was coming out of his lips,

They kept each other’s hearts
Like engine gears,
Or chess pieces
One couldn’t function
Without the other.

And so I hope,
I hope that when the time comes
And the seas will separate you
And the miles will try to break you apart
That you will remember
How good it felt
When you held on to each other,
How nothing really mattered,
As long as both of you
Were together

Like chess pieces,
And engine gears.


This is dedicated to my great friend Prince and to his Abby. Happy Monthsary you guys!

What I really mean to say

Why do you say
‘I love you’
When what you really mean
Is you love the idea of me
Of possession
Of waking up in the morning
With someone thinking about you

Why do I say
‘I love you too’
When what I really mean is
I am lonely,
Hold me
Close and hard
And maybe these crooked fragments
Will piece themselves back together

Why do you say ‘I miss you’
When what you really mean is
You miss the summer
But when it already was summer
You said you miss the winter

So I say
‘I miss you too’
When what I really mean to say is
I miss you like the sun
It may set or rise
But it is always there
It exists not just because
I want it to

So you said
And I knew
From the moment I met you
That it will come to this

That’s why doorknobs are made in pairs
People are meant to leave
And maybe that’s the reason why the locks
In doorknobs are on the inside
You aren’t supposed to stop people from leaving
If they want to

So I said nothing
But what I really wanted to say was
Thank you
I’ll never forget you

But I hope I do



“Hands learn more than minds do. Hands learn how to hold other hands. How to grip pencils and mould poetry. How to tickle pianos, and dribble a basketball and grip the handles of a bicycle. How to hold old people and touch babies. I love hands like I love people. They are the maps and compasses with which we navigate our way through life. Some people read palms to tell you your future, but I read hands to tell your past. Each scar makes a story worth telling. Each callused palm, each cracked knuckle is a missed punch or years in a factory.” – Sarah Kay (Hands)

(photo not mine, credits to the owner)

What it felt like

Across the room,
Your piercing gaze met mine.

It felt divine,
Sacred even

It was like coming home
After being away for so long.

It was like watching a sunset,
Over and over again.
Painting the skies orange,
Taking away all the misery and blues.

It was like the smell of rain
In the dry concrete floor.
Petrichor, that’s the word for it.

But what’s the word for,
Hating something
But loving it at the same time?

And I know how you hated
The color orange,
‘It looks absurd’ You used to say
But how can you love
Sunsets and falling leaves
But hate its color?
I wish there was a word for that.

When you said you loved me
But hated
How I still felt lonely,
Even when you hold me.

I wish there was a word for that,
When you hate the parts
But love the whole.

Because that’s what it felt like

When you left


Love (as defined by a blind person)

Love is when I hear your voice,
Rebounding in every corner of the room
yet still managed to find its way to me.

Love is when you touch my hands,

Sending jolts of electricity
As if you’re keeping me alive.
We could’ve survived anywhere.
Love is when I go to sleep,

And I know that you are somewhere
In this world, breathing and living
And the mere existence of you,
Makes the darkness worthwhile.
Love is when I touch you,

My hands in your breasts,
Your lips on my neck,
Our souls intertwining, like deep roots
I feel most alive when I’m with you.
Love is when I know you are smiling
even though I’m sure as hell I can’t see.

It’s not your attractive facade
Nor your arousing figure.
Love isn’t something you can see.
Trust me,

I know