Tell me about the roads
that no longer lead to you.
I’ve been running away for
some time, yet here you are
again, waiting for me,
keeping me afloat on this
journey we call falling.
But only in my dreams.
Only in my dreams.

*For #OurPoetryJourneyMay18


To the boy across the ocean

The ocean knows my heartache,
it understands how it is to barely
touch, before drifting back to the
other, the separation and the
infinite back and forth of
fleeting clandestine moments,
the daily endings and beginnings,
the torture of converging
but never being able to stay.

*For day 14 #theloveletterproject

To that petson who has lost everything:

At midnight, with shovel in hand, I dig unmarked graves and bury the dead in my bed sheets, I mourn for all the places I cannot exist, I mourn for all the fractures that can never heal, and all the pieces of myself I can never get back.

On good days, upon waking, I feel renewed, my soul stitched back together amidst the ugly phantoms in my head.

*For Day 10, #theloveletterproject

Everybody has that one

My first time doing #spokenword 🙂

The one with bad timing, the unavailable one, the inaccessible one, the one with baggage, the one who is all wrong for them. The one they think they see everywhere, the one they wonder about, the one they find themselves thinking about even when they wish they wouldn’t, even though they know they shouldn’t. Everyone has that one who has moved on, whom they tell themselves they’ve moved on from, and yet still makes their hearts skip and their stomachs flip and their fingers type flowery words into phones at ungodly hours.


Memory is flawed.

It dredges up only the best and the worst of things, and never the uneventful and mundane. I’m sure we’ve had a lot more memories, yet I can’t remember mornings that were as simple as making a cup of coffee or just us sitting beside you in silence. I’m sure there were days where we fought just so we could passionately make up, and nights that ended blissfully, but they are buried deep beneath the darkness of the cracks that ended us.

I am sorry if the latter is all I can remember. Our legacy deserves better, but memory is flawed, and I have nothing.

*For Day 29, Our Poetry Journey Contest
January’s theme: abc’s Revenge

Take my hands, will you?
What use are they now that
I have nothing to hold?
Tuck me into the spaces
between your fingers,
where I know I’m safe.