In my dream, I paint our room black. You paint over me. We disappear.


I remember last night you touched my hair and I tried to lie still pretend to be asleep I would not stir for the fear that you might disappear the moment wouldn’t last the next day the air is sharp we are best friends walking side by side we don’t talk but my head is…


the most precious things are simple and free: the sound you make when you sip your coffee the morning sun reflected in your eyes the crease between your brows when you read poetry the way your lips move when you read me the way your fingers feel when you write me Daily prompt: priceless Photo…

for you

how do I find the words to paint you a new world when yours runs out of colour for you I bend my brain in search of things to say that could guide you by the hand words that might shed some light maybe make you want to stay here in this atmosphere and not…


you make me a shadow of who I am or aspire to be. is it the same me who was a long time ago? maybe not that long… maybe I still am maybe I haven’t changed or grown at all.

this is DEFINITELY not a poem

I can’t lay my head to rest Too distracted by the heart Beating in my chest I wish I could put Those sleepless nights to some use Maybe write a book or two But no such luck That won’t happen anytime soon I’m still stuck


How do I shine
you’ve stolen all the light

I’m not a star
you’re no longer my sky

Gone #2

I woke up gone from the present and present in the past you disappeared so fast but a part of me still lingers on the shelf above your bed I woke up gone from my head but still when I left a part of me stayed against my own will I woke up with you gone…


Sometimes I sit and stare at the falling leaves, pretend they give me inspiration while all I can really think about is how you built me a home in your arms and how I turned you down, chose the homeless life and called it an independent path. But my feet are always cold and autumn takes…

Words of Blue

No, don’t stop. You always said you liked to watch me work, said you didn’t mind me piling up my words along the walls of every room. Then something changed, the spell broke. All of a sudden my words of blue didn’t go together with your mood. You said they were doomed, you threw them away…

this is not a poem #3

I used to find comfort in words and words used to flow so effortlessly now sweat breaks on my forehead and I choke on my thoughts as I lie in bed and how many times a day am I to tell me I’m okay how are these haunted words once innocent to cure my crushed and fragile soul they hurt and they say it…