Sunday, 17 September 2017


so much love

could not be contained

(When looking at stars)

even after the source

was gone

the light continued to


(you're actually looking into the past.)

a brilliant blinding

dazzling radiance

seen for lifetimes

(Many of the stars we see at night)

infusing life

an afterglow

like a star a thousand

light-years away

(have already died.)

Saturday, 16 September 2017


sweet blank walls
green over gray
moving curtains in
a quiet breeze
speaking with
the quiet monotony
the reliable story
of time tick tock
if you listen carefully
you can hear this
and sometimes
even understand

Friday, 15 September 2017


a parched landscape
and narratives un-narrated
left to wither in crumbling dust
with fragrant afterglow
of what was and what has been
and what has yet to come

Thursday, 14 September 2017


the day after she won the lottery
she rose again at dawn
and trudged away
to work
sun rise sun down she
sat at her desk and worked
and worked
sometimes she went into
the washroom and locking
herself inside the stall cried
then returned to the cold empty
house and slept on the mattress
wedged over seventeen million.

Wednesday, 13 September 2017


like a plant yearning
leaning toward the sun
with a thirst
a longing
we stretch out one finger
pointing our own way
to what our heart craves
following, in pursuit of
trembling in our bones
for that one moment
we make contact
and ignite

Tuesday, 12 September 2017


a soft breeze
with just the hint of
frozen landscapes
infused with floral
a quiet murmur
with just the hint of
new beginnings
infused with age old

Monday, 11 September 2017


she sat on the dark wet sand
the edge of the waves lapping over her
from time to time
on the perpetual dark night
for the moon has broken free
and was long gone
so she sat on the dark wet sand
as the world came to its end

over the horizon there was a spark
then it was gone again

Sunday, 10 September 2017


she listens
staring at the ceiling
she can hear it    the sound of
him walking through
the house   in all the places
where he had never been
she closed her eyes
the door opened

Saturday, 9 September 2017


after all that time spent apart
the crevice has splintered
the crevice was splintering
and she stood at the bottom looking up
knowing that when the two sides broke
crumbling down in an avalanche of destruction
they would finally meet in the end

Friday, 8 September 2017


a white butterfly in the night
fluttering its wings
invisibly iridescent
not a moth nor flame
(so what could it know of love?)
shunned as a charlatan
spurned as a deformity
it fluttered in obscurity
until the moonlight
claimed it as its own

Thursday, 7 September 2017


It’s getting dark
But the sky’s still blue
The train’s around the bend
Hear it call: one, two
With only my name
And the clothes on my back
There’s nothing right now
I can say that I lack
Hear me tell you just three simple words
And don’t run away run away run away oh
It’s getting dark
But it’s gotten so bright
The train’s coming home
Do you see the light?
We’ve crossed over borders
Many lines have been crossed
I don’t know where I am
But I’m no longer lost
Hear me tell you just three simple words
And we’ll run away run away oh run away home

Wednesday, 6 September 2017


The night looks in
Peeping at the windows
Watching from a dark seat
At the people seen inside
Stilted conversations
Flickering muted lights
Under the same roof
All alone nonetheless
He watches from afar
or comes closer sometimes
Thinking he isn't seen
The night looks in
Quietly observing
From the outside
Then opens the window
And creeps in

Tuesday, 5 September 2017


when the light turns red
she crosses the street
walks across the highway
without a look either way
if she’s feeling cold
she’ll leave behind a trail of fire
when she’s feeling thirsty
she’ll ask the sky to crack
when it says this way
she goes that
when it says no way
she finds eighty-seven
permutations of ways
that no other dare walk
she is chaos
a name a place a thing
stopping for no one
the world stops for her
out of choice out of no choice
unless it wishes itself undone

Monday, 4 September 2017


find a place
that's all yours
where you can
put your arms around
the trunk of a tree
and hear its heart beat
where you can rest your back
against the earth
with leaves in your hair
or sand in between your toes
the wind and sun
against your face
find that place

Sunday, 3 September 2017


oh how she writes
in between climbs
snatches on paper
on napkins sometimes
when his back is turned
or when quietly beside
on a shore
on a mountain
on a foreign curbside
oh how such freedoms
become a solace
when you leave behind
that peculiar feeling
oh the many roads
so far away
wanderlust pathways
through new doorways
oh how she writes
as they journey
as she pens down
the words of the ghosts
wherever they are

Saturday, 2 September 2017


we all know
the only way through the forest
is through the trees
so how
did we get lost?

we all know
in a world coming to its end
we hold on to our own
so how
did we let go?

we all know
we love to turn our backs
on what is known
and what do we know
better than ourselves?

Friday, 1 September 2017


what is the weight of
the moonlight
streaming over the ocean
as we sit on the shores
if I reach out to take a 
to keep it safely 
in the empty bottle
between us
will it expand
or disappear

Thursday, 31 August 2017


in every silent moment alone
she bows her head
sometimes a quiet movement
of her lips
imperceptibly, a name
sometimes a small flicker
in her eyes
a gesture of pain
sometimes a lingering smile
in her heart
ferociously aflame
in every single moment

Wednesday, 30 August 2017


i dont know

they're all clamouring

to be the first and the only

a position that has

no vacancy

in a slow motion

blink of an eye

it's gone from static

to fury

a roiling storm

but it's ok

it isn't love

if it isn't every emotion


Tuesday, 29 August 2017


you are more than
the one line afterthought
and the long dial tone of silence
permeating the rest of your days
you are more than 
unanswered questions
and the hours dedicated ignored
you are more than the bruises
purple and blue 
and under the skin
you are more than
the cold corridors where you've been
left behind
you are more than the hardships
you have vanquished 
on your own
you are more

Monday, 28 August 2017


at twilight
when the birds head home
she dances on blossoming moonlight
tiptoeing along a trodden path
over the fields
through the glades
and from between the blades
of gossamer green
she plucks white bulbs and buds
gathering them close
holding them to her heart she dances home
under the silver light of quiet dreams
carefully unfurling the white petals out
smoothing the crinkles and creases
hanging his emotions in new frames 
on the walls 
surrounded by his discarded drawings
she slept

Sunday, 27 August 2017


each day he trudged
down a broken path
to an old oak tree

and he sketched

drawing the things
he could never say

but once on paper
he ripped it out
of his heart the sketchbook

crumpled emotions
tossed over a shoulder

then he stretched

each night he trudged home
with a blank sketchbook
pages and pages lighter

Saturday, 26 August 2017


sitting on the front porch
just over the hill
in a quiet valley
shrouded in mist
a place that no one knows
the only map it existed on
was in a shared dream
oh the years that have dawned
scattering rays of lovelorn light
on a quiet breeze
no matter now many steps
or seconds on a butterfly's wings
I shall ascend that hill
and sit on the whitewashed
front porch swing
watching the sun set

Friday, 25 August 2017


fluent in all the ways to escape
sometimes upfront disclaimers 
masquerading as confession
solvents inflammable
or three words, an easy profession
sometimes in substances
or ripped out jeans or leather jackets
cufflinks maybe pinstripe ties
motorcycles or degrees (oh please)
reasons, excuses and then them lies
from the glib to the silent
from subtle to the violent
fluent in guarded goodbyes
when you love a man
prepare to love a coward

Thursday, 24 August 2017


long story short
he left his wife
after eleventy months of trying
he decided he couldn’t do it
after all
he was, he said, happier on his own
it was just how it was
after packing up and locking up
he went back up an old path
and knocked on the door
it was easier to be loved by the
overweight, much older, mother of two
whose husband left for work in the morning
and returned late at night
it was a freedom of sorts
to finally tell a woman no and make her happy
especially this one: when she asked if this or that made her look fat
lying was easier when competing against another man
instead of against himself

Wednesday, 23 August 2017


it is hearing a certain voice with a spanish lilt
asking questions bluntly, fearlessly
and it takes one knowing look across the room
to force them from bluster to blush
or seeing him beyond what others see
for the man who uses the teddy bear emoji
after every second line
though the world views him as arrogant, worldly
or there, a certain sense of a certain cologne
picked up among a million other smells
the smell of a gym, the smell of his skin
and sending you into an avalanche of affairs
or the taste of memory, a lingering of deoxyribonucleic acids
not your own but nevertheless yours
or sitting in a dark jazz bar
amid the clutter of trombone, sax, guitar
half listening to his tipsy torrid conversation
with a quiet, knowing smile
so many faces of love

Tuesday, 22 August 2017


and i thought: this
this was all i want to have again and again
every single day
more of the smallest talks
that said nothing at all but were filled with everything
a freeze-frame of purest infinity
a zero gravity sense of completion 
more of the hilarity
tears streaming down faces
tummy aching
and a goofy laugh that wasn't really a laugh
but a smirk and chuckle and embarrassingly pleased cough
and i thought: this
this was eternity right here
and because it was, really, it truly was,
it continues even until today
even when those moments are yesterdays
and even when i thought those moments
would be created again and again and again to the horizon
to the moon and back
tonight i can look at the moon all alone
i am happy with this eternity

Monday, 21 August 2017


six hundred and seventy six days of i'm done
of so many things that have since come undone
when the world comes to witness
it is a spectator sport
that is no longer remarkable
yet they gather in hordes to watch
every day, a heart is falling
and every second a heart has broken
and poems fly with words trying to capture
what is already lost
in ninety nine minutes hear the darkness come
and go and we pause, a trailer release:
observing the way this world will soon die
when the cooling creeps upon the warmth
seeping into our bones the idea of mortality
six hundred and seventy days of goodbye
warning: don't look at the sun with thy naked eye

Sunday, 20 August 2017


Love, he said.
Was a figment of my imagination.
Like bliss, happiness
All that shit.
I just don't believe in these things.
What, he said, after a pause,
Was the point?
Take it day after day
And if you don't like it
Drop it.
What if it was a person,
They ask.
Drop it, he says.
Drop it? they ask. It?
Drop the question, and leave
Get out of my house, just leave.
Who asked you to ask me these questions?
Who asked you to come here at all?
Asking five million freaking questions
Who are you?
He asked the empty room
Where just a slight breeze indicated something
Just the slightest something among nothing.
Looking down
A calling card
Picking it up, he read.
The name on it was

Saturday, 19 August 2017


i waited several lifetimes
until i found my soul
looking it straight in the eye
i died a million deaths
running through fire
lightning storms
racing up
the highest summits
while the earth grew barren
while the world grew old
plunging into the deepest oceans
exploding within seven billion bombs
with each step
from every direction
i keep going unrelentlessly
old soul i looked into your eyes and fell in too deep
i own serenity
and i lay down to watch the stars
knowing the secrets in the galaxies beyond
they are within me
they are mine
just as you
shall always be

Friday, 18 August 2017


An opalescent silence
So clear, crystal-cut
If you listened to the rain
You’d hear each single drop


There were no more tears to give
and so very few heartbeats left to live

And shatter

So easy
So simple
So uncomplicated it’s become

No receding
No feelings
As we stay comfortably numb

Winter, summer, spring or fall
What does time mean after all?

It doesn't matter.

Thursday, 17 August 2017


it was on the seventeeth floor of the seventeenth building
where he looked across the carapace and forgot his name
sirens wailing down a boulevard of veterans
alarms singing to the beat of burning pots and pans
a tinge of spices up gone up in smoke
broken glass and china and japan and geneva
a memory riddled with holes like imported cheese
if you could never hear yourself think
he was this thought

Wednesday, 16 August 2017


With a crack
The horizon began to fall away
Endless cold whiteness
Endless blue oceans
Endless exhaustion
At its end
That place where we placed our tomorrows
That place where we bury our dreams
Where the edges of evermore
Are nevermore seen
Crumbling chasms
Creeping closer
A slowly awakening eternity
With prophecy in its eye
So many unanswered questions remain
In a world coming apart
Do we run away or do we stay?
Do we at long last reach for each other’s hand
One frozen one burning
hoping for another chance?
On the brink and
Into the black
We began to walk towards
A horizon that was no more

Tuesday, 15 August 2017


after categorically compartmentalizing trying to neatly place this against that
and printing off adhesive labels that would later peel away in the heat
they went to celebrate at the local bar to drink to their accomplishments
patting each other on the back with raucous songs of fathers and sons

after they turned off the lights she opened the closet door and tiptoed out
opening filing cabinets in the dark and with a wave of a finger

pages upon pages went blank 
words falling off into piles of ash
blowing away as dust to land
once more on the earth

Monday, 14 August 2017


out it pours:
torrents gushing forth
a paroxysm
a body clenched
in toxic shock
as broken bones fuse 
even as she empties 
inside out
a wracking, shuddering 
relentless chronic cycle

cold porcelain
against the back of her hot neck

Sunday, 13 August 2017


to paint
the volumes
of all that is known of love
would be a molecule of
a drop in the ocean
of the chaos of your light,
my darling.

Saturday, 12 August 2017


I see the wet tendrils of her curling hair
through the blurred windscreen.

Rainstorms.  And raincoats.
So many reasons to sit in a flooded car.

It is thirty-three degrees and no air conditioning
provides the best excuse for delusions.

I hear her laughter in the silver of night
even though her laughter has ceased.

Friday, 11 August 2017


a breath away
or just a thought
sitting beside me
under my skin
and in my bones
so much sometimes
it's a loud echo
a quiet ache
in my teeth
in my head
in a blink of an eye
over years
over miles
but always
you're so close

Thursday, 10 August 2017


at first she would wallow
refuse a solid shore
            at least, after she recovered
            from drowning
to those same reefs where her boat crashed
staying aboard that so-called haven
even while it burned
though the captain
had long already jumped ship
with an island to call his own
leaving her with her big words and lofty ideals
so that when it sank, she sank too
with the anchor
with the mast
and treasure chest of gold floating by
her last words engulfed with the weight of water
deposited at a sodden salty shore
after drowning
after wallowing
she sat and waited, a self-exiled harbour
facing an infinitely vast ocean
keeping her eyes on that horizon
with a certainty that the captain would return
he couldn’t be far
               that much she trusted
sitting on a rocky coastline refusing to turn her back on the ocean
refusing the fruits and foliage and the shelter behind her
on the shores
of his island

Wednesday, 9 August 2017


it is the key to antiquity but lost in disambiguity
a speck balanced precariously on a breeze
negligible but weighted with all of existence
and swims with the plenary of perpetuity
sitting on an eyelash
make a wish
when a star falls
when you close your eyes
when four parallels coincide
when the heat of the sun hits your eyelids
lighting up a darkened world with roses on fire
it rusts

Tuesday, 8 August 2017


he fills his life with clutter
storing away knicks and knacks
behind glass walls
perhaps in the process of attaining
there is a semblance of control
to balance an inward spiraling
sensation of loss
dizzying and mortifying
a fortification of tenuous contentment
in the act of appreciating very little things
knowing deep down he let go of the biggest
bowing to the enormity of such appreciation
beyond his capacity to be true to
in a secret place he puts the universe behind glass
though everyday it breaks
he tells noone

Monday, 7 August 2017


there are no easy answers
though she lays with eyes wide open
blinded in the dark
she emptied out her closet
and cupboards and drawers
seeking abandonment
like an addict
giving away her possessions
until she lay her head down
on a bare mattress in a bare room
listening for the sound of a thing
-- an empty heart --
to abandon once again

Sunday, 6 August 2017


cotton candy sunsets
with a moon so bright and true
overlooking water
so cold and icy blue

the roulette spins both hot and cold
but sunshine's on thy face
a boardwalk walk with kindred spirit
and a field-full's breathless chase

back against the grass
or flying up to touch the sky
checking out volley-ballers
there's more than one kinda high

though the summer begins to set
like a stranger just passing through
surround yourself with those you love
and those who love you

Saturday, 5 August 2017


dispossessed by the breaking sky
a tornado dropped me at my next stop
walking up an empty aisle
muted whispers from those on either side
I am dripping with each step
and dropping wet petals left behind

maybe i took form when i became rain
with a breath of fresh air i was born
i listened to that voice
and thought it was sane
"when at your hands did I deserve this scorn?"

kidnapped by a midsummer spell
i found a quiet corner in the library
reminiscing on many night's dreams
with a view down an aisle with nothing at the end
i am lost in wonder as i sit
dropping baubles of memory left behind

but why do we try to keep what we keep
from movement, still life to celluloid
unchanged, unaltered, embalmed
in preservation it is destroyed

Friday, 4 August 2017


no matter how you think you've taken back all you ever gave

by withholding an equal amount for an equal amount of time

there are things that were originally yours but you never had

a genuine obstreperous assignation of misaligned intangibles

misunderstanding and confusing the possibility of propriety

no matter how prolific or profound the phrasing of prolixity

when you think you've done a great job at creating boundary

of demarcating lines and distances and measuring separation

you realize it's in building these epithets of silence and song

that keep reminding you of what was given and what is gone

Thursday, 3 August 2017


when we say we're in that place called love
perhaps it's just a temporary safe home
like a witness protection program
we've built around ourselves from sticks

when we call that place that certain name
instead of the wild and impulsive yen
of  obsession--for what else fills us
like that all-consuming fire burning

perhaps we thrill at the torments and tides
when the waning moon and rising sun
become muses for poems and canvases
instead of just being what they simply are

but sticks can burn and tides ebb
and even the moon erodes
paint and paper dim and dissolve
and the heart implodes

when we forget to simply be
instead seeking ourselves in reflected irises
in tiny specks of consciousness
through that other person's gaze

when we lose ourselves to manic obsession
an ache permeating to the depth of bones
to know we exist--we reach to the stars
seeking in that void an echo calling

perhaps we still our beating hearts
when we hear in the murmur of space our name
learning the language of distance and silence
realizing a permanence below the despair

and sticks can burn and tides ebb
and the moon can fade away
eyes and stars close and collapse
and yet here we stay

Wednesday, 2 August 2017


it's when you start backtracking
trying to retrace your steps facing a direction only your past ever faced
like a glorious hike through a forest
where every tree represents a story and every glimmer of sunlight
dappling the shade, a moment
but after you emerge, and look back at the way you came
every single thing looks different
an imposing stranger with no familiar landmarks
just one gestalt entity that looms on the periphery of memory
it is no wonder we often misconstrue that backwards glance
as a negative space, a dungeon of emotion: evil
rather than a sequential paradigm pulled together from moment to moment
memory to memory, a fluid, shifting movement
from one stage to the next
backwards it's love
forward darwinian but on the way we forget our train of thought
and it drops off
for it is only to be expected, nothing is ever the same again

a retrograde that's strange
despite nostalgia: change

Tuesday, 1 August 2017


filament by filament
i unravel
pulling the thread out
with the precision of a surgeon
needling through skin
flesh, ligaments and bone
piecing together nothingness
in pursuit of untangling
lament by lament
in fulfillment
i'm free

Wednesday, 5 July 2017


beware the causality
of holding on too long
to a relic
that with time
barely functions
warns the bereft
timeless clock
stuck on the hour
stuck on the minute
with the second hand striving to
move on
(from the search of the ever-elusive first hand)
but always returns
and tocking
and talking:
he spoke with his soul
she listened with her heart
whose beats emulated
the resounding echo of time
the scribbles cogitating the silence
calibrating the viscosity
of her cardiac flow
in deciphering
those indivisible
lyrics of his soul

Friday, 30 June 2017

Deccan Traps

I am standing alone in an empty field
in a world silvery blue
pierced again and again by shards of lightning
the sky is tumbling and rumbling
rolling over itself to close in from all sides
a strong gust of wind flattens the grass as far
as one can see, flattening the trees to one side
intertwining my hair and blowing my trench coat apart
i stand, rooted
with water rising over my feet,
blades of grass and murky warm water
rising between my toes
with each strike of lightning
and each broken sob of thunder
when the world is silenced with a roar and a hush
i recall when i lived in the time of the dinosaurs
when therapods and compsognathidae and
and promises and love and archaeopteryx
went extinct

Monday, 19 June 2017


I am denial while you are acceptance

We’re all those hues of melancholy and grief

Of disaster and despair, you and I

I am detachment and you are apathy

That promise was the rumbling anticipation of overhead clouds

Ready to soothe and assuage a dusty drought

Instead, passing overhead without one drop fallen

I am that cloud and you the earth

For want of release and 

thirst and satiation

exchanging one last polite smile

we perish

ferocious gentle storm

Your touch be a sun ray or a caress from the wind

Your voice the roiling waves, rumbling thunder

The furrows of your frown

Chiselled edges, plateaus of the mountain high

Your eyes the forest at a certain moment at sunset

I sleep under your skies

Monday, 12 June 2017


sometimes in love
sometimes not
sometimes above
and under and sideways
liquid and molten
syrup: gold
sometimes we're young
sometimes old
it's a comfort that's not stagnant
but forever on hold
it is that ease of breathing
a breeze hinting despair
but a solace like no other
the ticking that betokens repair
time keeps expanding
elastic, pliable
stretching on into a
loose-limbed yawn
sometimes empty-handed
sometimes not
sometimes sure-footed
and stumbles and
a secret on the wind
a season
a scent
a sense
so languid

Friday, 26 May 2017


all you have to do really

is slow down your steps baby

let yourself let go

and let it all flow

breathe in the air slowly

until in equals out maybe

and look at the big picture

down to the small

cast off the hurry

and the haste and the fury

this moment is it

just let it

all go

Sunday, 7 May 2017


Would you love me still
if I ran away
Would you love me if I
forgot your name
Would you love me,
he asked,
if I killed someone?


whispered the ghost
of the girl I used to be

Monday, 24 April 2017


what do you think falling in love means?
is it like a dust particle falling into your keyboard
unseen, minuscule—unnoticed and negligible?
is it like a tear dropping into a teacup
losing itself in many circles of frequency
dissolving, diluting into nothingness
it is like how my cat goes crazed at times
she suddenly freezes, her focus,
her entire world now suddenly just one particular thing
she turns her head a full one eighty and although
it is inextricably a part of herself
she chases it
trying to capture that one thing
that one thing that provides her balance in life
would you think on a bright blue day, when the sun is shining
when the boys are playing basketball on the tarmac courts
when the kids are hanging upside down on the jungle gyms
clambering to the top of slides to call out
"here i am!"
to a world below
that on a day so bright that we're all inside a tiny globe
that's floating inside a vast nothingness, so full of black
so full of dark, with shooting stars, and gas and dust
dust particles that are like that little dust particle
that fell off your skin and into the keyboard
superclusters of galaxies of dust particles
they say there is that theory where the universe
came from nothing
where after a blink of the eye
you suddenly have a reflection when before there was none
what if when you are standing on the shores of a lake
looking at the glassy surface at your reflection and realize
that the reflection is really you on the shore
what if love was really nothing but everything and
falling was not into a thing nor within a thing
what if you fall in to fall out again
because it is a strange thing that is happening to me you see
that i am in love with being out of love but still i am in
and it is a complete circle i keep on going around and around
chasing a something that is already a part of me
if everything comes from nothing but things fall apart
maybe things can fall back together
like the number of times i've pieced myself back
when i thought i'd already shattered the shatters
when i thought i'd already shuttered the shutters
closing out the light to batten down the darkness
but really i was outside the whole time and inextricably

Saturday, 22 April 2017


laughing eyes to match sighing sighs

sometimes, I wander far from you

crossing the world to get away from you

but at the end of the day,

curl up in a ball at your back door

quietly resting my head at the place

your feet tiredly step.

Monday, 17 April 2017


He asks me his questions
and I tell him my lies

Stack them up
They look the same
Same colour and same stripes
They would solemnly swear
Cross their hearts
and think they are
But that is how they are not

He thinks each day
I am farther away
Not knowing that I am closer than ever
that slight wind on the back of his neck
Is my breath

But he can't see me because he is hiding
Hiding behind cowardliness that strips away
Under glaring fluorescent lights

So he asks me his questions
And sometimes I smile
Sometimes I look him in the eye
Because the truth is a riddle
So I tell him my lies

Stack them up
Side by side
Then with one finger
Watch them topple

Sunday, 16 April 2017


So many crossed paths
And aimless wandering around in the past
There are those strangers
Who were once your very own
Out of the crowds suddenly one day
You see them coming, and when you blink
They've turned right around and are walking
Impolite polite ways of pretending you never once were

I'm not waiting for you
I'm waiting for me

Monday, 3 April 2017


on a tide of shores
Fervent, frenetic
A placid tumult of breaths
Seventeen million echoes singing five billion sighs
A dance on breezes like whiplashed strands of hair
Hands that once clasped each other grasp air
We hung on to save lives only over this precipice
All those shards of broken pieces that we thought lay below
All those fires we thought we would walk over for one another
We had to let go to fall In order to learn to fly
a threshold of heartbeats
Frantic, fluid
on a coast of waves

Monday, 20 March 2017


somewhere in the world it is 2 am
and from the silence of the silence
a guitar plays
the wind must be gusting and the stars shining
somewhere raindrops drop
a slow melody thrums
all i know is this beat inside outside out
eyes are closed but heaven is open
a slow dance in the shades of moonlight
and it wanes
as i and you and the world
fade away into somewhere


Thursday, 9 March 2017


love is a mirror

not only a light

love is a caged bird

that has taken flight

love is the self first

love is the world

love is all your million colours


Monday, 27 February 2017

One Breath

If we must
we must
dance more freely
live again just one more day
if we can breathe
and let it out again
every inhalation
becomes an ex
If I must
You must
Let us linger
A trailing finger
Caressing dust
Because I am reaching
And touching
These stars
Lighting up
This path I tread
What is up?
And what is down?
What is lost
Can be found
If we must
We must
live again.

Tuesday, 14 February 2017


I have loved you every day
Thinking the next would be the last
I have loved you despite the feeling
of falling in love
With other people, different people
Thinking that maybe each love
Would teach me a belonging that
I could not have with you
Love has brought me laughter
that all too soon brought me to tears
Because I found that love in you
You are that reflection
Of all the things that were broken
Of all the things that were strong
Of all the things that were simply beyond explanation
Because you are me.