Paint

He is an impressionist

She is a surrealist

And I,

Well, I am the water

The paintbrushes are washed in.

Careful.

We were so careful

Separately

You were careful

I was careful

We were careful

About ourselves

About each other

About what we were

We were careful

Together

We were so fucking careful

And then

We,

Just for a second,

Forgot to be

And when we stopped looking over our

Shoulders

Stopped listening for

Strange noises

When we forgot to be

Careful

Everything we had been so

Careful about

Broke down

Like a Jenga tower

Tumbled down

Crashing into each other

Rubble to sort through

And our carelessness

Fucked things up

Fucked everything up

And now

There's you

Being careful

There's me

Being careful

But

There's no us

Being careful

Together

Pinwheel

As pinwheel

Of red, orange, green

Spins and spins and spins

In direction

Dictated by wind

Her mind unraveled

All knots loosened

And thoughts rushed to

Her

In a force

That brought shame

To the wind that

Blew that day.

embrace

Embrace that suffocates
for your arms are no longer
soft and warm
love flowing through your
vessels

Your embrace feels like
a method of torture
making me bleed
draining me of love

Your iron-winged
embrace.

Eye contact

While looking through life's kaleidoscope
For a second, my eyes met yours.

The truth

You hesitate

For just a second

And that's how I know

You are lying

Rewing and delete

I know perfectly well that
there is no use in
wishing things of the past
worked out differently
But every now and then
when my heart hurts too much
I want to go back in time
and change everything
I would change the
day I was born
family I was born to
school I attended
I would change the
job I chose
welcome I gave you
trust I had in you

I would change everything
because this life I call mine
is nothing but a dumpster
And who likes being a pile of crap?

Moving on/Letting go

Maybe it's time to move on
They all tell me
It has taken me way too long
According to the experts

But tell me
How do you move on
When you love

But tell me
Would you ask someone
Mourning the loss of a parent
To move on?

Would you ask someone
Mourning the loss of a sibling
To move on?

They why tell me to?

Is romantic love that easy to replace?

Flight

For her

Life wasn't a

Roller-coaster ride

With ups and downs

But the smooth ascent

Of an aeroplane

And this is what

Scred her the most

For turbulence and

The possibility of

An emergency landing

A rocky descent

Was not too far away.

Birth certificate

The purpose of

Religion is

Defeated

If

Religion

Is something

One is

Born into

God

And each time

God said,

"Let there be

Pain and suffering

More and more

Bloodshed,"

She lost faith

Bit by bit

Flawed

Her flawlessness

Made her imperfect

In this world where

People strive to be

Flawed.

Screwed

You screwed me

Not in the way I would have

Preferred

You, deep in me

Snatching away

What society

Romanticizes and

Values

Oh but you screwed

Me

You drove nails

Into my heart

Laughed as they

Punctured cells

Smiled as the blood

Gushed out of me

You screwed me

Real good!

CupCafe poems

(February 14: Spent a few hours sipping lime juice and nibbling on a sandwich. Wrote a few poems.)

Coincidence

Do you think

That the days

My heart is happy

Are those

Spent away from you

Without your

Continuous yip yapping

And requests

-no, demands-

To pay attention to a

Conversation

I have no

Interest in?

And if loving was a crime

I'll plead guilty

And happily

Accept my prison sentence

And if loving you was a crime

Punishable by death

I would gladly

Put a noose around my neck

And if being loved by you was a crime

I wouldn't mind

Being guilty by association

Or convicted of conspiracy

There is female laughter
too-strong men's perfume
introductions
acquaintance made
and beneath all the
secret smiles
stolen glances
accidental contact
There are hearts being
broken
others being mended
Walls being built higher
others being pulled to the ground

Yes, I am angry

I'm tired

And I'm scared

Reminder!

There will come a day

When you can no longer

Scribble between the lines

Fill pages with words

There will come a day

When you can no longer

Write these things

You call poems

There will come a day

When stories don't flow out of you

Bleed black ink on paper

Empty your heart and mind

Of thoughts you despise

There will come a day

When words fail you

And when that day arrives

You will know fear and hurt

Like you've never known before

Press delete until

You've erased all

Memories until that

Very first hello

Once you get there

Press delete one last

Time

Their volume increases

As the conversation

Becomes about what they can

Show off about

And I now realize how we sound

When we are together

Oblivious to listening-ears

Disappointment

I hate stereotypes but

When I heard that you,

Unruly hair

Cotton shirts

Tattoos and

Politics,

Don't read or

Write

I can't deny that

My heart

Sank

A little

Artiste

As an artiste

Your goal should be to

Release yourself

From the prison you

Live in

But instead

You get entangled

In dirty

Party politics

And then wonder why

No one likes you

For your art work

Anymore

Trash

You insist on picking me up

Taking me with you

Although you

Without hesitation

Throw paper

On to the ground

Even though

It is me you treat

Like trash

A girl

She was young and pretty
Rosy cheeks, soft curls
Wore dresses
And believed in fairytales
She smiled all the time
Giggled and laughed
Saw houses as palaces
Fireflies as fairies
And as the years passed
She started growing up
The adults said it was a good thing
But she was unsure of change
She threw away her dresses
Wore jeans and tshirts
A frown replaced her smile
And she began writing poetry
There were no more palaces
Or any fairies
The world was raw and naked
And she was afraid of reality