POETRY.

COULD'VE BEEN MINE

There are many great loves
I've left behind.
Many great lives
that could've been mine.

The one with desire
who made my heart skip.
He made me a poet
with one touch of his lip.

The one with kind eyes
who cared and adored.
He made me feel safe
and never once flawed.

The one with quick wit
kept me on my toes.
He made my heart laugh,
healing all my woes.

The one who challenged,
bought my mind to life,
He posed incredible questions
of beauty and strife.

Now, here in the lull
of melancholic reflection,
I wonder "Why, oh why,
did I ever reject them?".

There are many great loves
I've left behind.
Many great lives,
but none of them mine.

07.01.24

MY DEAR, THAT'S LIFE

Bones aching, bruised with bitterness.
They abandon facts to favour attack.
Tongues sharpened by resentment
methodically carve into each other’s back.

"I don't know if I love you anymore.", he says.

Fresh wounds infected with sour spit
seeping with memories of a time he cared.
The spiteful taste of words half-meant
forging cracks in hearts once shared.

"I don't even know if I like you.", she says.

Daggered stares twist between lovers,
both clouded in passionate hate.
Heads pounding with bygone thoughts
and fears; maybe it's too late.

"Do you even like yourself?", he asks.

Bitterness fades into numbing pain,
both falling quiet with introspection.
'Is it me, really causing all this?',
they long for a sense of direction.

"I'm a shadow of who I once was.", she admits,
"i'm not living the life I foresaw.".
"Me too, my dear, that's life!" he exclaims,
"no point living for what came before."

Life's demands shock them back to ignition,
time for work, with no more delay.
Defeat lingering behind tired eyes,
she finds the only words left to say:

"Have a good day."

 ...

"You too."

05.01.24

HEY YOU, SENRYU

I see you. Hey, you.

There's nothing I wouldn't do.

Say you love me too?

11.12.20

PREY TO AN ANGEL

Is it really worth the battle
in this eerie earth you travel
to resurrect a broken angel?
A treasure, wrecked, unstable.

She, who thrusts her wings upon you,
entrust her with your heart if you dare to.
You discuss "us" in all its beauty,
she's disgusted, you're merely her duty.

By her body, you will be adorned,
become her sweet nobody, left scorned.
Disguised as the angel you thought you knew,
you lie with a danger no man should pursue.

Bleeding, bound to a Goddess by her spell,
sweet secrets you share, you'd never dare tell.
Her feathers grow black, from the darkness within,
shallow breaths escape as your back loses skin.

Her wrath grows to match every beating,
her secrets unfold with your racing hearts meeting.
It is your submission for which she does yearn,
for, to break an angel, today it's her turn.

Her feathers, now frosted with red,
still tempt you mercilessly into her bed.
With a halo blinding you from her disgrace,
she leaves you with scars that run deeper than your faith.

Her welcomed claws caress your spine,
with kind bruises she claims you. Your body; her shrine.
In saving your angel, you so sweetly endeavoured,
but in saving this angel, your own wings did get severed.

Is it really worth the battle
in this eerie earth you travel
to resurrect yourself, her broken angel?
A treasure, soon to be lost to a fable.

09.12.20