Self Loss

Don’t tell me I don’t know what loss is. I’ve lost more than you can imagine. I’ve lost so many people, people I never thought were capable of leaving a bruise. I remember watching a boy I once knew when I was young in a shopping centre. I remember wanting to talk to him and deciding not to. I remember my trembling body later that night when his name was mentioned in the caption of a picture that showed smashed metal and glass. That boy lost his life that day, and although he didn’t mean much to me I felt the loss. However I didn’t feel it as intensely as I did when the first boy I loved crushed my soul. I lost that boy then and it hurt like hell. I lost him the same way I lost the girl I once called my best friend. But all that loss is not the loss I’m referring to. I’ve lost more than people, because I’ve lost pieces of myself with every single one of them. I’ve lost more than you can imagine. I’ve lost myself. So don’t you dare tell me I have no idea what loss is, for what greater loss is there than this.

To The One

My doors I have opened
To too many strangers
As impatience grew on me
Awaiting your arrival

Impatience grew
And it blossomed with tears
That sent its vines spiraling
Against every inch of my body

Impatience adorned me
Made me a shrine for the desperate
Where entry begged no cost
And guaranteed a relic upon departure

My doors I have opened
For too many to peek
For too many to pick
From the garden planted by impatience

I know not your face darling
But I know you have not yet visited
And part of me hopes you do not

For I fear you may not find
A single rose left to treasure


Fragile Skin

My mother always said I had fragile skin. Skin that carried scars for longer than it should. But I never did listen when she told me not to touch my pimples or itch a mosquito bite. I wish I did. I wish I had listened to her warnings. I wish I had taken them more seriously, so as to prevent the terrible marks that have made a home of my flesh, like uninvited guests. My mother always said I had fragile skin, but she never did tell me I had a heart just the same. I wish someone had warned me. To be careful with my emotions the way I was told to be careful when riding a bike. I wish someone had reminded me to wear a helmet before taking off. Maybe my mind would not have been so damaged now. I wish I had been reminded to wear knee pads. Maybe the falls would not have been so bad. I wish someone had taught me how to use the brakes on the damn thing. Maybe I would have learned how to stop before reaching the steep dip. I wish someone had, but nobody did. Mother you never told me I was such a fragile soul. I figured that one out on my own. I figured it out a little too late, when I realized the stories my scarred knees told were foreign to my ears, while those my drained eyes told were always alive, constantly yelling for justice through the prison bars of my body.


I am on a bus, seated facing opposite travel direction. I am on a bus, a bus that only moves backwards, covering the same tracks which now appear unfamiliar. Strange how the ordinary is now new, capturing the attention I would usually grant the clouds or a mark on the wall. Strange the way the buildings stand distorted although they are very much upright. I have never bothered to look too much, but I could almost swear that cafe never existed, and neither did that sign. I am on a bus, and now I am not sure I know the way. It all looks so different from where I sit, and although I know it is just the same, I am yet anxious of the unknown. I am on a bus, and it seems I am the only one moving backwards, while the other passengers move forward. I am moving backwards, noticing all I prefered to be blind to. I am on a bus, and I really regret choosing this seat.


Darling, will you like me in the dark, when the eyes hold no value? Will your fingertips know the flesh on my hips, the bones that give it the stretch you worship? Will you know the landscape of my being, the veins that mark their tracks on my earth, your earth, your world, as you once said? Will you like me in the dark, when my demons rise like hair on cold skin, texturing my body with the distinctive pattern of fear and anxiety? Will you feel it being imprinted onto yours at the touch, will my shivers shake your anatomy? Will I rock your world? Tell me darling, will I rock your world when the lights are off, when you are forced to hear, to smell, to taste, blind? Will I still sound like the raindrops through the storm, will I still smell of caramel once my sugar is burnt, will you still be able to taste a sweetness in my damned bitterness? In the blackness, when light is shy, will you prove to be dauntless, to cherish me in my utmost nakedness?

I Saw You

I saw you the other day. I recognised you instantly, although I was staring at your back. The back that held your overgrown but childlike legs, and those damn shoes you always used to distract blind eyes from your face. I never understood why you didn’t like your face. You never told me that, but I could tell. Insecurity slept with the reds that filled your cheeks. Insecurity slept with you alone. I saw you the other day, and when I saw your face from my distance you were smiling. You were smiling to someone else, flashing your laboured teeth to a being who wasn’t me. It was only a second, maybe two, but God those few seconds succeeded in consuming me with a sadness I could not come to understand. Was it her? Was it you? Was it me? I need to understand why. Why that image haunts my waking eyes, why my mind keeps trying to convince me that my limbs belong wrapped up in your arms, why after all this time I still think you’re different. I saw you the other day, and I envied you. The way you held your self straight, while I was barely crawling. The way your face told stories, while mine was mute. I envied the way I meant nothing to you, and I hated you for shining in my Winter. I hated your eyes, and the way they’ll never take a glance at me. I hated that you were not mine. And now I hate that I can’t scream this to you, I hate that you do not know. That I never wanted you gone, that I wanted you to fight, to stay, to save me. I hate that I still want you to. I hate that I’m writing about you. About how I saw you the other day, and I thought to tell everyone but you.


Is home here
Beneath sun scorched
Against fabric excessive
Foreign to the sister

Does home taste bitter
Of salty sea
Or bloody trees
For tastebuds do deceive

Does home know love
Does it beat in another chest
Is it asleep with a woman
Who knows not
She is homeless
Or does it hide in a song
To which I am deaf

Possess it a tongue
Wise of truth
And if so
Will these ears fluent prove

Home hear me helpless
Abandon me not shelterless
There must be room for mess
Within your wilderness

Twin of the Rain

I heard once one say
Love is twin to the rain
He told me darling
They are one and the same
Charity and chaos
Pleasure and pain
Rainbow and the storm
Loss and gain

He said I heard once one say
Love is twin to the rain
Identical to every aching face
Embodied by every circumstance
He said darling before you
I never did understand
How water can breathe
Talk and dance
How a heart can tremble
At the sight of its strands

And now alone drenched I stand
Missing him like I cannot explain
Speaking to his ghost
In the tongue of the rain

Hand of the Man

A mans hand I do adore
To pick me up at the fall
I lust for hands of a man
That tell tales at the touch
To perfume my skin
With flames of endurance
A mans rough palms
To caress my cheek
To carry my fingers
To cure this disease
A mans intricate texture
Do I so admire
To trace in my sleep
Like a lost wanderer
I fancy the hand of a man
Yet at yours delicate I stare
Captivated in its youth
Hungry for the sensation
And now darling
I crave it like the air
To feel your fragile fingers
Run through my tangled hair

Burden Bearer

A sick cycle is it not
The birth of a soul
A mere product of desire
Life forced out of love

Unfair do you not think
Dressing another with skin
Gifting them flaw and sin
And telling them to begin

Placing history on their shoulders
By branding them with your name
Decorating their existence
With the colours of your own pain
It is no wonder it is you they blame

Cruel this cycle is
A neverending train
Of regretful limbs intertwined
To recreate a life unlived
Mindless of inevitable burden

Of your intentions I am unaware
But sure I am of this undying despair
That fault you carry a fair share

For I being the child
You wish you did not bear