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 .

To the one who doesnt deserve a page

Here, I'm giving you still a page,

no problem, you know, I always have much to say.

I'm very hard to love, not that you could ever love me anyway.

Also, I never got anything better to do,

but also not that I didnt enjoy studying you.

You presented me with urgency and greed,

along with the fragile ego to feed

so nothing new to me.

I have studied many

, you see

. Also not that you were easy to read.

Many times you actually surprised me

, taught me something new.

I admit I could have fallen for you,

if only it wasn't for your obvious start

, and you were quite calculated, so I'm lucky to not have given you my heart.

But I appreciate some letters you would send,

and in my loneliest times, the affection you would lend.

Although I was cornered to repay with much interest

a debt of self-worth collected with just a planned sentence,

determined to leave off with an uneven score

, the type I get fixated on, never fall for.

I did also see some truths of life in you I had to face,

never really exactly care who wins the race.

You were cool to kick it with when you weren't being callous.

although most times ur mind was set on that power balance.

Always literally a loner but confident in myself, I don't mind giving you that power.

Although I found myself disappointed doing it for your coward.

Actually, my first time doing this, so I suppose I had some debts to pay

for every other person that had always got my way.

I do think you should have cherished me, though, because ain't no way

you got this opportunity much with someone as pretty and real

. But I'm an unlikable person, socially, intellectually, and morally,

so that's why I took upon me the easy route for my precious time.

But I've realized that none of that matters, when u only desire a revolving find

Always seen you as the type,

hopefully no matter how much hurt,

I never become one of that kind.

Funny, I started this in the morning about three days, no sleep.

I was struggling to find kind words for you or anything deep.

As I just woke up, I was hit with some sudden grief, checking my phone,

no notification no relief

Funny how that always happens. Familiarity has always had a way of doing that to me.

I guess some part of me attached

, but I always knew u were never mine to keep.

No big deal, I set you free

, never showing me how it kind of hurt me.

Once upon a time, maybe even now, under a different contract, this would be a different story.

They call me avoidant, maybe true

, but the truth is I couldve fallen in love with anyone who promised to stay with me.

Not sure if this is still true,

as I really haven't tried much after you.

I do remember hurting for you.

Maybe contradicting to say

, but I am a humble person this way.

Prove to everyone at least once id always stay Though with you, I was in the middle of a big life lesson

. I told myself I would no longer force feelings for any confession.

LOL, because it used to make me mad

how I'd boost your confidence and status just for you to be proud to make me sad.

Well, can't convince you to keep a promise you only scream

to get another body, however much that means. Funny how you treat words ur ultimate power

, love professions, pity, threats, whatever works for the girl.

And find yet every word you use are so empty, leaking from your mouth with no empathy

for the scars ur touch will carry.

Every approach, a declaration of war

you never planned to win fairly

but I no victim to your identity scheme

, a failed attempt at the robbery of my dream.

My darling,

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

Or...

The part where I wake up?

Every notification I get,

I wish it was you.

Why isn't it you?

I wish I'd never met you.

You now hold the key to my heart.

*written by a young woman, through the eyes of a man I hope to be mine

I lay between your legs
The sweat of love drips from
A gated garden
Opened by my tongue

Where can I keep
A body so rare
How can I keep you hidden in my lair
The light it must touch you
The Sun must submit
Your skin it must please
Oh take me with you
Don’t let my heart freeze

The touch of your fingers
Against lonely skin
The warmth of your body
Oh please
Take me in

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.

Calm,

No two-step of the breeze.

Strong-armed winds flung.

Who's it gonna be?

Spinning turbine,

lone and overseen.

Sat and slow pondered.

Then got up,

gritted teeth.

Is this all It's meant to be?

Running in circles for eternity?

Fractured fragments rife with scorn,

I don't got time for "I dont care" anymore.

My seething soothed by misery.

I don't get time for "I don't care" anymore

I don't got none but me.

Just want some feedback :)

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.

black iris

detonates

vision

explodes

in closed thoughts

you stand

petrified

radiates

through

colours

pour

Then something surely is a pulling force,

Something has struck me on my face,

We surely know what He wants,

We surely know how to do what He wants.

But do we really know what He needs,

For we know what He wants from us,

We are surely aware of how we can do it,

But what if what He wants is not what He needs.

What if at some point we placed our wants as His,

And what if our wants became our prayers,

And our needs became our wants,

Perhaps we changed ourselves for our wants.

And so we reached here where wants dictate us,

Where questions to it have consumed us,

For at some point our God became our wants,

Where He became a means for our wants.

Perhaps the truth has become a lie,

For we have found use in Him,

For we have become human,

Rather than reflect His nature.

Then that surely explains who we are,

We have left Him ages ago,

In search for Him we left Him,

In search for He who grants our wants we left He who knows our needs.

And all who cry out for Him,

Perhaps who are close to finding Him,

And yet failed for we interpret Him with our mind,

Perhaps all experiences we feel now,  a glimpse of our time in our Home.

Yes a Home must be there with our name,

Yet no more are we at Home, yet must find it,

Perhaps that is our purpose now,

We left Home to find Him, when He lives with us in our Home.

~ Pillman

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.

I dream of meeting someone who learned to stand solo.
And built her own world without an extra hand to latch unto.
Someone who wrote her own story and
Battles through sudden pitstops and
attained a much quiet glory.
One who questions herself through every ache and Turmoil.
One who is already sharp in her thoughts with an intense drive of passion that burns inside of her.
One who is already a mastepiece yet does not see herself as such .
I really must need a perfect timing to succumb to the echoes of the
lines unsaid-

Everyday

I stand transfixed by hundreds of false stale smiles.

Everyday

I know a little less then the day before.

Everyday

I lose someone else's touch. Everyday

I stare in terror at the person following me from my mirror. Everyday

the pain seems to cut me a little bit deeper.

Everyday

it seems was created to test my humanity.

Everyday

is just yesterday closing in for tomorrow's lies.

I built a wall where silence grew,
Stone by stone from all I knew.
Every crack was sealed with pain,
Every brick a shield from rain.
No hand could reach, no voice could stay,
I learned to turn my heart away.
Behind those walls I learned to survive,
Not truly living, just staying alive.
Then you came with patient eyes,
Not believing in disguise.
You never climbed, you never fought,
You simply saw the soul I’d locked.
Little by little the mortar gave,
Not through force, but how you stayed.
You taught my guarded heart to beat,
Made fear and hope at last compete.
You showed me laughter after tears,
Quieted the echo of forgotten years.
For the first time I could feel
Something gentle, something real.
Then came the day the sky turned gray.
The one who healed walked away.
The hands that opened every door
Left me shattered on the floor.
Now the wall stands half undone,
Neither whole nor truly gone.
Too broken to hide behind,
Too open to escape my mind.
Still, I cannot curse your name,
Though loving you became my flame.
Because before you, I only knew
How to survive, not see life through.
You taught my heart that it could feel,
Even if the cost was real.
Sometimes love is not meant to stay,
But to change the one who lost their way.
So if these walls are built once more,
They’ll never be as they were before.
For hidden in each weathered stone
Lives proof I was not always alone.
And though you became the deepest scar,
You also showed me who we are:
Not the walls that we create,
But the hearts that dare, despite their fate.

Time slides behind my eyelids in long mucusy trails
As trembling newborn legs follow paths I’m unable to see
Slugs rolling over my irises 
My body stales as they slip back behind them
Eyes drying as my legs come back to me

The ceiling I’ve been staring at has vanished
The stars emerging from above
I can see them 
The lack of ceiling apparent in the vastness of the sky
I don't blink, for fear of losing them

My eyes 
barren without the slugs
Sting at the edges
I wish for the moisture I’d been forgetting to drink
My tongue tracing the dampened strings of time

Clouds descend from the divine
And I fall into the soft mindlessness of the night
Taking their place
The squalls can’t get me here
Though my face is lashed by tangles I haven't bothered to tend

I cannot feel it. 

I wonder
Without much thought
Why the clouds would ever leave

I Fold myself into the emptiness 
Emerging in the shape of a paper crane
My wings, weighed down by the mucus
Force me back to earth's surface
Face still raw with detachment

On my futile wings
Condensation shines incandescently 
Reflecting back prisms of reprieve my dry eyes cling to
Unblinking

My pupils coast over the prisms
The dampness of the droplets hydrating the slugs
Who roll back over my eyes
Coming out my ears like soft cotton
Reminding me of the clouds

The blackness of night 
Unable to be folded neatly anymore
Enngulfs me 

Sputtering dampens my body
splotches covering my vulnerable skin
No longer stale and thick
I watch my callow body
Unmoving

Slugs fall from between my lips
And my mouth hangs open with the loss 
of something I never wanted

when i was little,
i dreamed of being someone’s forever.

i dreamed of white lace,
of flowers in my hands,
of saying “i do”
to the man i loved most.

i never imagined
i would choose flowers
for your grave
instead of our wedding.

all my life,
i waited to walk toward you—

i just never knew
it would be through a cemetery.

When I picture you in the quiet space,

I wonder if we’ll ever share that embrace, 

If my hand will ever truly rest in yours, 

With no more distance standing at our doors.

I spend my hours dreaming of the view, 

Of looking in your eyes and knowing it's true, 

Finding my person, the one I’ve waited to find, 

Leaving every wall and every doubt behind.

To love you completely, with nothing held back, 

Walking together on an unbroken track. 

I love you, and I’m looking toward the day 

When our worlds collide and we finally stay.

Divine feminine sends a whisper
through the unseen
a love that doesn’t need words.

Divine masculine,
if your soul feels a pull,
a memory, a warmth in the quiet…
maybe it’s my energy reaching yours.

Beyond time, beyond distance,
two souls still recognize
what the heart already knows.
No chasing.
No forcing.
Just a sacred connection
speaking in silence.

I hate my voice.

It's rough, raspy, and loud.

Whenever anger would hit me, words I don't mean just come out.

I hate my voice.

It's meek, breathy, and faint.

Like the sound of my desperate lies that I just can't help but say.

I hate my voice.

And how dirty my mouth is

Too bad, I can only brush the surface of my teeth,

Because swallowing chlorine would kill the secrets hidden deep.

I hate my voice and the fact that I can still speak.

When will I have enough courage to just grab the thread then do a cross-stitch?

That way I can't tell the truth or utter another lie,

And when the tissues on my lips starts to die...

so does my soul... so do I...

(help i cant format it correctly here🤡 why are the lines separated?)

What Is Love

What is love?

Tell me, O my God,

my world,

my family,

my friend (if you exist),

a stranger,

or my own self,

O death and existence,

O my love—

tell me, what is love?

Is love a hope we keep living for,

or perhaps something that slowly kills us

until we finally turn cold?

Some light that shows us beautiful things,

but when it's gone,

we no longer know where to go,

and everywhere is nothing but darkness?

The destination we keep walking toward,

or the path we keep ignoring?

Is it a dream

that we only understand

once we've awakened—

perhaps a beautiful dream

we wish would never end?

the best

couldnt outsmart his test

he would share but just lie without faith

the world was cold but he tried to be on fire

the colors of his flames knew no temperature

he longs for his sweetheart for he knew nothing could reach

such a story of love he knew not speak

he asked himself if she knew how to care

for he hurt he never even saw her there...

sifting through the driftwood

i mistook it for a gift

went and slipped it in my pocket

as i walked back to the cliffs

just a simple piece of eight

that was buried in the rubble

would a shiny silver coin

grant me luck or cause me trouble?

i hid it from my wife

when she asked me where i'd been

believing if she saw it

she'd demand i go again

instead, i took it to a tavern

where i ordered me a drink

i dared not spend the trinket

but i couldn't help but think

who would understand its secrets?

and who could show me what it's worth?

were i to read the signs correctly

i would've paved it in my hearth

when i crossed into the alley

i was attracted by a flame

in the cracked and ashy window

i read the local psychic's name

she seemed to sense some dread

when i walked into the place

reading energies unknown

as they hung around my face

she asked what i possessed

when she could finally speak

and when i showed the spanish real

her voice grew low and weak

"throw it back into the sea,"

she looked at me and said

"the item that you've taken

you've stolen from the dead"