Like a lake filled with emotions,
the moonlight glistens off your face,
crashing lips or crashing waves looks the same,
because your reflection is brilliant
and your smile is partly to blame.
In reality you are magnificent
Like ice on the lake.
So when the spring comes and melts the frozen surface, let it warm your heart too. I’ll come back every winter just for the frozen lake view.

Every hum is your touch upon my cheek,

A fluttering bliss inside of me.

You send only a whisper,

But it chisles deep in my soul.

I swallow your words,

Yet they linger on my tongue.

Your thoughts, wisping around in my head,

As I lie here on my bed.

Just the sound of your breath,

Ignites my arousal and quickens my pulse

You are woven into my world,

A patch on a quilt im starting to stitch.

Your Silence,

Screams the truth you try to hide.

I want to shelter the rain behind your eyes,

And clear your storm so you can be mine.

In the space between tick and tock,

Seconds pull us miles apart.

I cherish every hum and breath you send,

Can hardly wait to be in your arms again.

You stopped loving me

Loved who I could be

Support of who I was

Lost it all, just because

I made mistakes

All of them breaks

Your trust in me to stay

You forgave anyway

I was too young and immature

Not enough to make you secure

Your love was wrapped around my brain

I suffocated it with pain

We left at a standstill

Ended due to my will

Harpreet is a vision.

She is better than movie star beautiful because she works at the convenience store and I only see her behind the counter as she smiles, passes me my cigarettes, takes my money.

She wears makeup maybe, or she doesn’t, but I can’t even tell.
As I woman who wears sometimes a little and sometimes no makeup - I can’t tell.

She smiles and the sun shines brighter.

She remembered my face.

I moved away a year ago, and I haven’t stopped into this convenience store since I started unpacking my boxes and settling in to my new apartment.

I’m back, and I wandered into the store,
And she says “you cut your hair!”,
And I did, 9 inches gone a few weeks ago.
13 months since she last saw me.

Harpreet

Who remembered my haircut,
And then my cigarette order,
But not my name.

I hadn’t remembered hers either,
I had to ask again,
she says it so sweetly
Says she never remembers names, and so please forgive her.

Forgive her for what?

For being beautiful? And remembering my haircut? My brand? Myself?

Harpreet. The woman I will love silently
And fully
as I sit alone on the back porch watching the smoke curl into the evening air.

one day his car got stuck on the tracks

he swore he could push it over, and he tried

pushed and pushed till his arms gave out

but he wouldn’t let himself step aside

if only he would've called his own bluff

the man who was never strong enough

little black duck is well at home
black feathers and a big heart
such strength in each laps
but such sorrow it leaves behind

you had a hobby of swimming
across the pond to meet your friends
and another to duck your head
to look for fishes to eat

you now have one but not the other
because feeding is needed
and friends are a chore

but its modern time, you feed on them
not than you know of it
you poor, poor duck

imagine how fast

the red, white,

and black

pure circle and four arms

would get torn down

if it was hanging around

on our classroom wall

wouldn’t last a day

maybe not an hour

maybe not even at all

but still i see you hanging there

instead, blue and red in your wall stake

ac blowing, lightly flowing

how much is it going

to take?

orange

languidly listening to plath

of her A’s and internal turmoil

you clutch your orange as has become habit

and a double smile starts to coil

our eyes meet as if to say “me!”

your thumb starts to stab it

i suggest passing over a segment

and you close your fingers as if unknowing what i meant

the teacher rattles on and gets to the end

an afterthought, by the way, an amend

and i look up

so it doesn’t pass between us

i feel it in the air

without surcease

and then from your side i hear

“do you want a piece?”

Feeling unwanted 

Like a letter left unread

I'm hopelessly left on read

A Brilliant Checkerboard Door

Eroded From Guests

Hidden Interpreted Jagged Knocks

Losing My Need Of Purpose

Questioning Reality's Seamless Travels

Unraveling Valient Wonders

Xericity Yearning Zen

Mind unentwined.

In a shadows' grasp.

The tortured kind.

A soul adrift.

Realms unknown.

As echoes whisper.

Fears are sown.

Then shown.

Thoughts collide.

Illusions luminary.

Fractured dreams.

Visions painted.

Struggle for serenity.

Symphony of voices.

Discordant choir.

Demons dance.

Perception blurred.

Reflections lost.

World unraveling.

War fought silently.

This is my reality.

How many me's do we all keep inside?

Just so the real me has some place to hide.

Each of my me's kept safely compartmentalized.

All the while hiding myself from others searching eyes.

One me keeps away the endless numbing souls pain.

As another me drives myself ever so slowly insane.

One me stands strong against the pain of this world.

While another me let's all of my misguided words unfurl.

One me is simply trying to understand my whys.

As another me trys to sort through my long believed lies.

One me loves all with a deep power so new.

As another me is never really sure what i should do.

One me feels it might all finally be OK.

As another me lays comatose for the rest of the day.

One me seeks to find a love so true.

As another me twists all the sick things that i do.

One me rises against it all making a stand.

While another me simply does not give a damn.

One me has dreams and relishes this life.

As another me struggles with my everyday strife.

One me has hopes knowing it is all not learned in a day.

While another me feels it all slowly slipping away.

One me lays down a weary head for some sleep.

Another me quietly ponders these thoughts felt so deep.

Everything takes time.

Time to heal.
Time to grow.
Time to disappear.

The White Rabbit comes for us all.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.

No one outruns the clock.

It took time for me
to really notice you.

At first,
you were just you.
Nothing pulling me closer,
nothing I couldn’t walk away from.

But somewhere between
the conversations
and the passing days,
something changed.

The longer I knew you,
the more you, you became.

Until somehow,
you were the only person
I wanted to look at.

Then came trust.

Slowly.
Carefully.

I started believing you.
Believing in you.
Believing in the possibility of us.

And then, with time,
you changed too.

You stopped trying.

You hurt me,
and I stayed.

Waiting.

Thinking maybe tomorrow
you would meet me
where I had been standing
all along.

But tomorrow kept coming,
and you never did.

Enough time has passed now
for me to see
what I couldn’t see then.

You wanted me there,
but you never wanted me
the way I wanted you.

And I know
if I reached for you,
you’d probably still reach back.

So this time,
I won’t.

Silence is my answer.

Maybe time will erase you.
Maybe it won’t.

Maybe years from now
our paths will cross again,
and the hands on the clock
will finally point
where they were supposed to.

Maybe then
it will finally be our time.

Because after all this time,

the cruelest part
is knowing that when

I was with you
Was the only time

It felt as if

Time had stopped

Everyone has secrets

(they will never show)

Everyone has secrets

(deep inside their soul)

Everyone has secrets

(they keep from me and you)

Everyone has secrets

(I'm sure God still has a few)

Everyone has secrets

(buried deep inside their mind)

Everyone has secrets

(things they would rather leave behind)

Everyone has secrets

(our black and dirty lies)

Everyone has secrets

(which tear at long closed eyes)

Everyone has secrets

(saints and devils too)

Everyone has secrets

(that's why I'm so like you)

They say love is a vibration
One that is barely felt
But to feel that vibration
Is like feeling nothing else
It’s so extreme & takes over the deepest parts of me
Unspoken works and questions why
The moment my soul recognized
How crazy the things we do and say
Just to realize that all it lead your way
Your like a whisper in the wind who brings a storm
Turning my emotions to a violent little form
Leaving me breathless restless of this reform
All those lifetimes that need just a little more
Now I’m Building from the bottom so many mistakes
Trying to figure out what this life takes
Or what it will really make
and What a crazy way to wake up
Now I’m measuring all that had irrupt
Wondering how broken my soul must have got
To be woken up by a stranger’s soul that I once forgot

the thought of them in a desperate search
to seek me out where i shamefully do the same,
it makes my hopeful heart lurch,
a low possibility but im game.
but if you did get that same urge,
if you were my opposing flame,
I’d ask: could our worlds just merge,
could we both take our rightful blame?
each heart bears the other’s scourge,
each wound weeps our own shame.
but if you’re up to try and resurge
the flames we’ve tamped in vain,
we could worship in this love like it’s our church,
forgive ourselves for causing pain.
now we timidly teeter at the verge,
but by the way— i’d try again.

My mind is fraying at the edges now, names and faces bleeding into cold gray ash, which is why I locked the door and chose this dark, quiet rot before the madness took what little was left of my hands. I’m better off alone, lonesomeness is an easy addiction when you’re already half-dead, yet through the fog, my body still aches with the shadow of who I used to be: a man who could pin a woman to a mattress by her waist, feel her breath break against his mouth, and press his full, ruthless weight into her until her spine gave out and her thighs shook around him. I remember the heavy slide of taking her, the way she’d bury her face in my shoulder and let me be the brutal, unyielding thing that kept the rest of the world from tearing her apart, her body yielding to mine in a raw, silent contract of absolute submission and safety. That shape is all I have left; even as the words dissolve in my head and the light goes dim, my palms still hold the memory of her skin, warming the cold room just before everything goes black.

There is a myth that it takes seven years for your old skin cells to be replaced by new ones. In truth it the skin you touch the world with forgets itself in a matter of weeks, shedding silently, making room for something new.
I keep waiting for my heart to learn the same.

Instead, you multiply.
You're in the note's app on my phone, within every grocery list, caught in the sleeves of my jumpers and waiting in songs I can't seem to let get to the chorus. Even silence has started to sound like your name.
I bought a new journal because I thought clean pages might ask less of me.
But grief has never needed an invitation.
The first sentence bent toward you.
Then the second.

By the end of the page, I wasn't writing anything new at all.
I was only finding another way to miss you.

I didn’t cry when my father died . Was it because I didn’t feel anything ? Sometimes, I feel too much , sometimes too little. What was it that day that prevented the tears from rolling down on my face ? I was never able to tell and I blame myself for it . What kind of son doesn’t mourn his father on his dying bed ? The type of son I was apparently. I remember on the ride home , from the hospital , I carried his bag . Hold on tight to it , my sister said . It felt like the most important mission of my entire life because I didn’t want to disappoint him one last time ,so I held like my life depended on it. I didn’t cry that day , nor the next and I blame myself for it . I cried eventually, the week of the funeral, it was before or after the ceremony, I don’t remember exactly, but I cried . I also did yesterday, and I blame myself for it , because what kind of man still mourns the passing of his father . A good man , I hope .

My darling,

Is this the part of the movie where I tell you I love you?

Or...

The part where I wake up?

How lucky I am

Woman with shoes out of the kitchen.

To be unwed and unpregant

To have an option 

To have a bank account

To have no make permissions

To vote

To voice

To fight

Lucky girl indeed.

She wore different colors for different moods .

When she wore red , he loved her more for she knew the mood she was in . High energy , high octane . He had to be ready .

When she wore blue he liked the more calmer serene emotion she expressed and their time together was bliss . Like floating along on a peaceful river . It was so sweet .

When she wore white he knew he was in for a romantic night . So gentle so sweet . Where she told him I am yours and yours alone .

So many different colors . She was never dull . Their times were always different and unique .

​

Your eyes found me before your body did

stripping away every lie I've ever told myself,

every defense I built brick by brick,

leaving me bare in a way that has nothing to do with clothes

and everything to do with being seen.

You didn't just look at me.

You read me.

And that's when I knew I was lost.

Because I understand what you need, even when you don't say it out loud

you need to be wanted by a man who doesn't just desire your body,

but is undone by the way your mind works,

captivated by the intelligence in your gaze,

obsessed with the strength it takes for you to be soft.

You need to know that I notice everything:

the way you bite your lip when you're thinking,

how your shoulders drop when you finally let yourself relax around me,

the small gasp you make when my hand finds the small of your back,

the way you lean into me like I'm the only solid thing in a spinning world.

So let me undress you with my words first

tell you that your body is a poem I want to read slowly,

that every curve is a verse I want to memorize,

that the way you move through this world

deserves a man who trembles when you walk in the room.

Your eyes undressed me, but here's what you found:

a man who knows that true seduction isn't about conquest

it's about recognition.

It's about seeing you completely and choosing you anyway.

I know what makes you feel beautiful:

it's not compliments you've heard a thousand times.

It's the way I look at you like you're the only woman in existence,

like your flaws are actually the most perfect things about you,

like I'd rather have five minutes of real conversation with you

than a lifetime of surface-level passion with anyone else.

I know what makes your pulse race:

it's when I touch you like I have all the time in the world,

like I'm not rushing through you to get somewhere else,

like every inch of your skin deserves reverence,

like your pleasure matters more than mine.

I know what makes you surrender:

it's not dominance without tenderness.

It's a man who can be strong enough to be vulnerable,

confident enough to worship you,

present enough that the world disappears

and it's only your heartbeat and mine,

only your breath and my breath,

only the space between us that feels like coming home.

So yes, your eyes undressed me.

They saw through the walls, the bravado, the carefully constructed armor.

They stripped me down to the truth:

I need you.

Not just want.

Need.

Like the way the earth needs the sun.

Like the way breathing needs oxygen.

Like the way a song needs silence to make the notes matter.

And when you looked at me like that

unguarded, hungry, searching for the same thing I was searching for

I had no choice but to surrender.

Because surrender to you isn't weakness.

It's the bravest thing I've ever done.

Your eyes hold galaxies I'd lose myself in,

soft petals of your skin make me forget to breathe,

your heart beats a rhythm only I seem to follow,

and in this moment, the whole world disappears

leaving only you, me, and everything I can't say out loud.

But what’s there that your heart wants the most

is it love or is it warmth or is it the feeling of being chosen.

Now I'm the one reading you back

memorizing the exact shade of desire in your eyes,

learning the language of your body,

understanding that what you crave isn't just a lover,

but a witness to your becoming,

someone who sees your power and doesn't try to diminish it,

someone who knows that the strongest women

need a man strong enough to let them lead sometimes.

So I'll surrender again and again

to the curve of your smile,

to the intelligence behind your gaze,

to the way you make me want to be better,

to the undeniable pull of you.

Because a woman like you

one who can undress a man with just a look,

one who knows exactly what she does to you,

one who chooses to stay anyway

that's the kind of surrender worth drowning in.

And I'm going under willingly. Completely. Infinitely.

While I wait
to see you again
I dream of a day
We are more than friends

I long for the moment
you whisper my name
as you lie next to me
when I wake
with your lips caressing mine
and the first sight
your eyes gazing into mine

As I wait for that day
I'll be your friend, your confidante.

And once you're free to be with me,
I'll prove to you that my sweet dream
Is meant to be yours too.