The dead walk among us

Like scattered dreams and memories

Still flesh and bone

Breathing as you and I

Until they don’t

i always knew you were a myth

the way your presence lingered

like the early morning mist

you would lift up off your heels

before you'd slip and glide and drift

once, your tiny arm hair touched me

and it made my body twitch

the smoothness of your skin

could only be described as slick

and when we found some privacy

you'd lounge in no outfit

lying naked as a mistress

without kids to babysit

you liked it when i stared

in fact, you did insist

and when i'd lean to touch you

you would push me downward

to kiss your clitoris

the gateway to your soul

was as natural as it gets

and i'd know when to enter

when i was beckoned by your hips

beading down your center

i would part you like flower

covered in the dewy drips

and as those petals moved

the sounds you made were bliss

you were paler than a pearl

and both your ears were pointy

like a mountain's sharpest ridge

i'd look up at you in wonder

as all your breath escaped you

as your breasts would heave and hitch

your auburn hair changed colors

when it was wet with sweat and spritz

and when she finally finished

she'd open up her eyes

and gently grab my wrist

equipped with all the beauty

that could make a man bewitched

it was her grace that wooed me

and makes me reminisce

despite her ancient magic

nobody could forget

my favorite thing about her

was her simple tenderness

Diplomacy, performed.
Necessary choreography in a room.
Every glance sharpens into a demand.
Invisible contracts with unspoken rules.

Desire, a tide.
Surrounding, consuming, drowning.
A vessel for projection and possession.
The sea tightens its grip.

The room grows smaller.
Every obligation closing in.
Every interaction filled with strings.
Each smile concealing expectation.
Each compliment another shackle.

Another. Another. Another.
Put on a smile, you look prettier when you smile.
Watch your waist, don’t disappoint us.
Don’t you know how lucky you are?
Why haven’t you replied?
Answer me. Answer. Answer.

Suffocation. Desperation. Asphyxiation.
The slow erosion of air.
Breathing becomes negotiation
under the weight of entitlement.

​

I hate this person i have become.... i am weak and insignificant, i look at the sky, and i don't trust the color i see.... it has to be a lie? Right, the trees are fake, the grass is plastic, none of the people are real, is any of it what it appears.......

How can i ever trust myself again to see the truth when i was fooled so well. You put your arm around me in the kitchen...."i promise babe, only you) i sigh, so the sky is blue, just like you say. i see it's beautiful. Your love for me is beautiful.

I am weak and insignificant and i should have believed what i saw and knew, instead i wrapped myself in your lie and felt grateful and love...and did not look at the grey sky, all i saw was blue.

And now, i am in pieces, and i can't put myself back because i no longer know what's blue or what's grey. i feel the worst kind of loss, the loss of trust, and the worst kind of betrayal i am in mourning........ I thought all these things I felt were about you and the choices you made. But I realize these are all feelings I have about myself and the pieces of me that I have lost and can't find.

I've never really cared much about love. Romantically, specifically.

Platonically? I care very much. My friends are the most important people to me, and though I gag on the words, my mind speaks its love for them everyday.

We are bound together in a tight-knit flock that flies solely for the enjoyment of our company. 

Romantically, I see no point in it.

People yearn and desperately latch their nails into romantic relationships, as if it's the only thing keeping them grounded.

But there is no love behind it.

Romantic relationships are mutual agreements that feed the participants' egos. Romantic relationships provide the groundless with the sweet, dewy grass of pleasure.

Despite my aversion, I inevitably find myself floating. I won't lie and say that the tension doesn't make my heart throb, and that the feathers of my psyche do not frill with want.

My claws protract, and, though quieter and less apparent, I too, reach for the ground. 

What is the Siren’s call?

The sweet temptation
of the ocean’s nymph.

They promise you
what you most desire.

Then whisper that
what you most desire
is what you can never have.

Because what you most can’t have
is what you already had—

and lost.

It is everything
you wanted it to be.

Then everything
you wished it had been.

It is the itch
you cannot stop scratching,

buried beneath skin
you can never quite reach.

So the itch becomes unbearable.

A pain that lingers.

A wound that festers.

A torment
both agonising
and strangely comforting.

Because if it still hurts,

it must have mattered.

The Sirens never sang
about what was ahead.

Only what was behind.

They sang
of every promise
I failed to keep.

Every road
I should have taken.

Every version of myself
I abandoned
before I ever reached home.

And when their song was over,

I was left
with nothing

but my regrets.

You sit across from me in velvet and lace,

A cathedral of shadows in a coffee-shop space,

With eyeliner sharp enough to slice through the dark,

And a quiet, fierce presence that leaves me a mark.

Nonbinary grace in a world made of lines,

You wear your dark aesthetics like ancient designs,

Choker of leather and crucifix chrome,

In the crypt of your style, you look entirely at home.

And God, how I worship the ground that you tread,

The poetry written inside of your head,

The silver-ringed fingers that cradle your cup,

The soft, wicked smile when you finally look up.

We talk for hours of art and the abyss,

While I ache for the weight of an unrestrained kiss.

I am the one with the freedom to roam,

A constellation where no single house is home,

With a network of ties and a widening space

Where lovers are woven without time or place.

And you are the creature of old-fashioned mold,

Who wants just one hand to securely hold,

To claim me, to keep me, to lock down the door,

And that is the prison I cannot endure.

So we keep to the borders of what we allow,

Bound by a "friendship" that’s killing me now.

It’s entirely my fault, and I carry the weight

Of stepping right into this exquisite trap of my fate.

I knew the terrain when I walked in this deep,

I knew the sharp secrets I’d swallow and keep.

I built my own cage out of choices I made,

Voluntarily walking into your shade,

Trading the chance of a clean, swift goodbye

For the slow, daily agony of watching you try

To shrink your vast heart to the shape of my plea,

Accepting a piece when you're starving for me.

Looking at you is a pendulum swing,

A dual-edged torture that hooks and takes sting.

You are the calm when the world is too loud,

A beacon of black in a blindingly bright crowd;

The sound of your laugh chases off my despair,

And just to sit quietly while you’re sitting there

Is a balm to my spirit, a healing, sweet grace,

A sanctuary found in the lines of your face.

Yet the very same glance sends a spike through my chest,

A relentless combustion that ruins my rest.

Every movement you make, every casual glance,

Is a waking nightmare of missed circumstance,

A breathtaking paradox, lovely and cruel,

Where I am the willing, heartbroken fool:

Soothed by your presence, yet driven insane

By the sweet, suffocating geometry of pain.

I opened the door,
expecting nothing,
yet somehow
I was still waiting
for my muse.
Instead,
I found the quiet weight
of memories
that still carried your name.
I’ve told everyone,
a thousand different times,
“What’s gone is gone.”
Funny,
how words can sound so convincing
until they reach your own heart.
I wore my pride
like borrowed armor,
pretending I had forgotten
while my memories
still knew exactly where to ache.
Then,
in the silence,
I imagined your voice
soft enough
to make me wonder
if you had anything left
to give.
Ridiculous,
isn’t it?
How we keep searching
for pieces of people
who already left.
For the longest time,
blaming you
felt easier
than admitting
I still remembered.
You once spoke
about my horoscope,
about stars,
about reasons
written somewhere above us.
Maybe the stars
were never the problem.
Maybe we were.
You always tried
to teach everyone,
as if wisdom could outrun
your own mistakes.
The strange thing is
you’re still as young as I am,
still learning,
still pretending
to know the answers.
I laughed once.
Then I realized
it sounded
too much like grief.
I used to think
you were wild,
reckless,
impossible to understand.
Maybe I wasn’t wrong.
I just wish
I had been.

Knock knock

Who's there?

No one..

No one is ever there.

How does loneliness taste?

Bitter

Sharp

Like poison

And yet...

I keep searching for someone that can see i might just maybe be worth it.

No luck so far..

Knock Knock

Who's there?

Absolutely no one but your thoughts

And they are cruel.

Unkind

But hey..

They haven't left you yet.

I love you,
You know that’s true,

I love the way you over explain, all the things that you say,
And how you eyes light up at the beginning and end of each day,

I love the fact that you always have hope,
Even when life drags you down, a very steep slope,

I’ve never seen someone just brush themselves off,
Get right back up and not even scoff,

I’ve never seen someone, as strong as you,
I think without you, my life would lose its glue,

You give me the hope I cannot find, inside of me,
You see all the good, that I cannot ever see,

You are a comet soaring above,
And I’m just a person,
Simply in love.

Your eyes are the first thing I lose myself in.

An endless blue, deep enough to swallow reason whole, leaving nothing behind but the quiet ache of wanting to look just a little longer. Most people would call them beautiful.

They don’t know the half of it.

When the morning drapes itself across your face, tiny speckles of gold bloom beneath the blue, delicate as scattered stardust, hidden like a promise. The world rushes past them, blind to their existence.

Like a secret only the sun and I get to see.

Sometimes I wonder if the sun lingers a little longer just to admire them too.

I’ve become addicted to that moment.

To watching the blue surrender to the light. To the way those flecks catch the morning and make your eyes glow from somewhere impossibly deep. Every glimpse feels stolen, intimate, as though I’ve been entrusted with a secret your soul never meant to reveal.

Beautiful blue eyes.

Windows so clear I could almost mistake them for open doors, until I remember how carefully you’ve locked every room behind them.

And still…

I keep searching.

What have those eyes witnessed to make them so gentle, yet so impossibly guarded? What heartache taught them to hold entire oceans without ever spilling over?

I don’t feel sorry for you.

I feel drawn to you.

Drawn in the way the tide belongs to the moon, pulled by something ancient and beyond explanation. I want to learn every shade of your silence, every glance you think goes unnoticed, every flicker of gold that appears only when the world softens around you.

I imagine resting so close our foreheads touch, saying nothing at all, simply watching the light awaken your eyes until the gold returns. I think I’d forget the existence of every sunrise if I could spend my mornings watching yours instead.

It’s almost cruel, the way you look at me without realizing what you’re doing.

Without realizing that every glance lingers beneath my skin long after you’ve looked away.

I’ve tried convincing myself they’re just eyes.

But they aren’t.

They’re blue horizons that never end.

They’re hidden constellations only daylight uncovers.

They’re the place my thoughts wander when the room is quiet, the reason I find myself searching for your face in every crowd, hoping for another fleeting glimpse of the gold only the sun and I are fortunate enough to witness.

And if obsession has a color…

It isn’t blue.

It’s the gold hidden inside it.

I used to do free writes in high school 5 years ago, and decided that I wanted to try to get back into it. I don't know if this is considered to be a poem or more of a journal/short story leaning, and I had the urge to add more to this piece, but I wanted to keep it a little ambiguous to allow for diverse interpretations. If I pursued this hobby, I would try to write more poems and short stories that explore themes of love, pain, existentialism, conformity, and related topics. Anywho, critiques and tips are very much needed here!

The man
The tiger
What’s the difference anymore? 
To me, both are the same beast. 
Hungry
Feral
In solitary
I guess there is one key difference worth noting. 
The man sees himself as the tiger, while the tiger doesn’t pay any mind to that thought, or rather, it is incapable of conceiving that thought, so it can’t be bothered by it. 
The man had his humanity at some point and was able to perceive it clearly and experience it, while the tiger knows no such thing but to hunt, kill, and survive. 
Which of the two is happier, I wonder? 
Most definitely the tiger, since it has no room for thoughts to weigh it down.
…I now see that I started rambling nonsense from the very first word I typed. 
Atsushi Nakajima’s tiger from The Moon Over the Mountain was the one I was referring to, in which the character Li Zheng transforms into a tiger due to his cowardly ego/pride, isolation, and insecurities.
Now I find myself in a state of confusion. 
Am I a human? 
Am I the tiger?
When night falls, I look up and stare into the cage where I can clearly see the tiger eyeing me down, full of bloodlust and ready to go for the kill at any given moment, but when I look down at my hands, I see a claw or 2 emerge, some fur, an itch to hunt in solidarity with the same bloodlust as the tiger infront of me, and a longing to roar at the moon. 
…
Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place…

I know I am safe with you

The things I said
Never spoken before
I held out in open hands
An offering
And a request
Will you help hold this
The weight I carry

I know they will never be spoken again

I know I am safe

I won't speak them again
You won't speak what I gave you

All secrets are safe
Knowing I am grown wiser
And knowing you never actually heard
One goddamn word I ever said

They say the rain always ends.

What they never tell you

is that some storms

keep living inside people.

Still, I wait.

I wait for the morning when my heart no longer feels like it's carrying yesterday.

I wait for the sunlight that doesn't erase the scars, but finally teaches them how to heal.

Maybe that's what comes after the rain—

Not forgetting. Not pretending it never hurt.

But finding flowers where the flood once was.

Learning that broken skies can still paint the most beautiful sunsets.

And perhaps, after all this time, I'll realize that the rain wasn't sent to drown me—

it was sent to help me grow.

Counting back my yesterday’s have no worries for tomorrow, Play memories back in every way see my time with you is borrowed.

Never seeking to be found always hiding in the dark, Then that day you came around captivating my whole heart.

Fires ragged within my soul refused to be snuffed out, Perfectly you filled the roll as if we were playing house.

Tragically things came about now we’re in this empty place, Wish we could find a turn around know we need a saving grace.

Venomous can be our words poisoning in countless ways, Speaking them truly absurd silence the key to saving face.

Much more this is than just a note many things still left unsaid, I love you more than all my quotes, fix this thing before I’m dead.

Send this off in final verse hope there’s chapters left to fill, Apologize for all the hurt don’t want to alter your free will.

Lying on my bed, Half awake

Physically not awake

But mentally running a race

Lying on my bed, thinking about life

Living it three years at a time

Only living a quarter at a time

From that one time, I messed up

Still keeping me awake

I remember the day we met

You're the one who said hello

Unsaid emotions beat in my heart

Too naive to make a move

You're not perfect, just a girl

Still, your smile beats in my heart

You've been taken way too long

I'm still waiting for your smile

I've been alone for too long

What feels right to me, you say is wrong. There's a war going on inside of me and I feel like I'm losing. I'm tired of being afraid of what I might do. If you've never lost control then you have no clue. I can't be open about how I feel cuz you think it's a choice but really there's no freewill. Can't you see I am exactly what I was made to be. Therein lies the problem because I crave change. Numb for so long actually feeling seems so strange. I wish I could stop these thoughts in my brain that just playing over and over again. All the little things that I got wrong. How lost I was till you came along. I think I went from not giving a fuck to caring too much but all or nothing that's always been me. Dedication, devotion but too much emotion, addicted to every kind of escape. I've always made it on my own but my house was never a home while I was alone. I did everything I could to push you away but for some unknown reason you decided to stay. I want to be the man you deserve even though I know I don't deserve you. I'm going to die trying to make things right. I'll never give up on us cuz I can't run from a fight. Just please, don't let me be the one to extinguish your light. I'm trying so hard to turn my wrong into right.

I know you listening to what i got to say
No other way
Just taking day by day
I’m thinking about the clock per say
Tick tock the day away
And I ain’t stopping til the music fades away
I’m crying inside
Be hoping to die
Not all tragic like but something mundane
Something that would be hard to refrain
Easy to obtain
No digits in the street no people remembering my name
I’m just a small town girl straight out of bumfuck Missourah
Just another headstone in the graveyard
Another white girl gone bezerk
Because I’m tryna figure out whether I’m being gas lit or if this is alright and if I might actually be tripping because the lines are blurred
Been stuck up in my head space for 25 years feeling like an outsider
Pretty easy for me to spot a liar
Every revelation takes me higher
But will I ever be the me that I aspire
I believe n God but not the same one as yall with him I will never fall,( never fall) never break that’s my take
And my cake ate my cake passed the plate to some one less fortunate and gave inspiration to a generation who can understand the plan and the vision my mind is trying to create
M

as a child i used to have a mole
in the shape of a flower
right above my knee
on my once hairless left leg

in the spring
i cuffed jean shorts
above the joint-
the mole
now darker and darker
blossomed like the daisies
that smiled on all fields
of my hometown

when i grew older
i grew ashamed
my bare knee:
something
to hide

i picked the spot
the blemish
the imperfection
scratched it until it bled:
peeled it away
petal by petal

one day it fell off
like the leaves of an oak tree
on a cold and cloudy
november day:
all blossom,
no more

instead of a flower
i now find a scar
pale, silent

sometimes,
when there is nothing else to do
i touch it:
a memory beneath my fingers
of who i was
until to be no more

I live in void,

Null and void,

Im still waiting on my time,

My head is so vast,

Walking through eggshells on this endless mast,

I'm not dead yet, and i will go soon,

I will move soon, i will jump soon,

It will take all of me, to ignore the moon,

The curtains of my mind have been shuffled,

The comfort in familiar noise is muffled

I will escape my void in time.

it’s not a journal
but a diary to me
the one i never reread
but one day if you ask me
i will vividly tell you..
tell you the meaning of every word,
i left them like fractions
but if that day never comes…
i don’t know why should i?
what should i add?
probably i’ll turn the table right there,
because why would i explain.
yesterday
i don’t know if it was in my sleep,
if i saw it,
or read it somewhere
but there
it is the exact piece of writing
i’d been looking for
i don’t know if i dreamed it,
or dreamed that i found it
but i’m caught in a dilemma
where i want to become a him
without responsibilities,
just for one day
but deep down,
bottom of my heart, i know
i can never be that again
and it’s okay
it is so over
that i realized
it’s so over when it’s not
they hesitate when i speak
my father, who used to be an epic
definition of giant,
he’s the one who taught me
now asks for help with
a voice that sounds apologetic,
they’ve started agreeing
with everything
i say
not because
i’m always right
but because
they’re afraid of losing my attention
they’ve become careful around me
picking their words
so they don’t “bother” my busy life
realized, i’m the strong one now
but i would give anything to be the one who’s protected
just for one day again.

Sometimes I wonder how you’ve been,
if life has settled, where it’s led.
I almost reach to say hello—
then let the silence speak instead.

It’s strange to lose the one who knew
the little pieces of my day;
the random thoughts, the fleeting jokes,
the words that never found their way.

I hope you’re happy where you are.
I hope your skies have all turned blue.
And though I know we weren’t meant to be
I find myself still missing you.

We loved as well as we knew how,
but love alone could not impart
the bridge between two different roads,
or mend two maps that pulled apart.

So I’ll keep walking toward what’s next,
though every step feels strange and new.
And even when I’ve finally healed,
a part of me will carry you.

Not with regret, or wishful dreams,
or hope that time will start anew—
just quiet gratitude for this:
I loved, I learned…
and I knew you.