Pen touches paper’s silent stripes,
Women struck by ******’s vice.
Each etching their nails to scar—
One verse more sharp by far.

We trade their wounds for cadence,
Their silence for a rhyme.
Our ink absolves no bodies,
Just stains the frame in mind.

Is every poet a criminal,
Who can’t resist or cease?
Shall we erase this hunger,
Or name it as disease?

Oh how I dream of us.
I imagine you purely you,
Among your dreams
And among mine.
You, my muse.
Me, yours.
How artful would it be?

I picture you entirely,
Captured still in photos,
In paintings, in sculptures.
I, in your writing,
In fabric, in drawings.
You are my art,
I am yours.

what is our purpose, if not to help,
why do we say these things, when they're not felt,
so focused on our next big break,
we've forgotten everyone it takes.

not meant to sit alone, meant to stand & test,
for those who refuse, for those who can't,
our helping hands only help so much,
set up against social norms & Picassos,
left to bludgeon, burgeon & bargain,
still only to be second best,
what Einstein life is this,
not one we lose to win.

Golden sunlight drips
Kintsugi salve on the hills
Three trees remaining

Sunlight endows warmth
Golden strata breathe promise
Three trees remaining

The hills pray for aid
The sun renders grains of gold
Three trees remaining

And by remaining
Three trees swell with seeds of hope
Gold granulation

There are no words that can describe
my love to you, a heartfelt vibe
my body shudders with loving daydream
the heart is bursting from lover's esteem.

Nothing can stop me, I'm the wind through the stone
this love excites me, my mind has flown
my smile is a sign, something unique
A lovestruck swan with nothing to seek

Thoughts of you are waves on an endless shore
a rising rose whose beauty I adore
melody that caresses my mind
sweetly played and gets rewind

like birth of a toddler, my love hiss
Heaven's greatest wonder, love of bliss
my mighty love a floral arch
a newly sprung at the end of March

Paints my heart, with blooming scent

You wore your tattoos
Just like your heart
On your sleeves of wonderful art
Each tells a story, a reason
Each admired and seen
But it was your heart
That wanted to be seen, heard
It was your heart that had the reasons
Of why you were art itself
Your skin adored
But it was the heart that yearned
A canvas for black ink, worn proudly
An uncolored heart, worn openly
You loved the pain of the needle
But you feared the pain of your vessel
Despite it all
You wore your heart on your sleeve
Aching to be filled, colored
To tell its story, its love
Your most beautiful tattoo
Is the empty outline
Of where your love should be