how my day feels with you

mornings of a gentle kiss
the sun & horizon at bliss

early afternoons of a warm embrace
the clouds fluffy showcase

late nights of whispering sweet nothing
stories from our stars so entrusting


how you empower my life

since the day we met, my heart will not forget

you’ve managed to place a hold, weaving your way through each manifold

as I bound my eyes kindly, goosebumps warm my heart soundly

the way anxiety tortures my emotional self

I am letting everything ball up inside of me. It still feels as though a ticking bomb is placed carefully somewhere under my ribcage. It’s a sensitive little one. Making friends with the little me inside. That little girl went through much in her life thus far. She’s kind of comfortable with the bomb. She’s used to it. Talking to it from time to time. Yet, unable to control what’s going on inside. Being pulled in all sorts of directions. From time to time, she will play with the bomb.

Carefully placing it in the palm of her hand. It’s similar to playing with fire. Juggling all her pain in-between her hands. Just watching the chaos blazing. Waiting for the bomb to explode. She almost wishes for that to happen. It could make her new again. Although, it could destroy her entirely.

All her life, she’s played with similar kinds of bombs. Not intentionally. They were placed inside her. Each of them for her taking. Each of them carrying a demonic being. Patient in choosing their next victim. The little girl has an ability to detonate most of them. Yet, some bombs throw her off guard. She can’t piece together the puzzle. Too intricate for her to decipher. So the bomb stays, and leave her with a pulling sensation. The tugging persists as she lives on.

grief can be found in a garden


The garden was astonishingly heartbreaking

She began picking all her favorites

All the ones that flipped her heart sideways

For their beauty was contagious

An older woman walks by

Seeing her expressionless statute body,

Staring at a beautiful bouquet in her hand


The older woman says:

“Why that’s a gorgeous set of flowers you got”

Still staring longingly at her collection she states,

“…But I killed them all.”

Tears welling up in her eyes she falls to the ground

The older lady rushes to her side

“My sweetheart, each one of those are so individually breathtaking from the inside – out, someone else would have picked them anyways…”

She looks at her through her lost set of eyes

She whispers,


fire & flames

She was pulled in deep

Energy of magnetic ruthlessness

Sultry temptation arose in her blood

His fire became her fire

They went up in flames

Untamable lust dripping on her

Poured out by him

Steamy secrets unraveled

Her fire became his fire

As each movement told stories

Tales of an unknown mutuality

Growing in the disaster they’ve created

For they shall burn on or burn down


You shake up my moon & connect all my stars

like a summer night in June – ineffable; just ours

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