Look to the sky — each cloud is forged alone,
Yet from afar, they wear the same white throne.
  They drift like thoughts, alike yet set apart,
  A testament to nature’s restless art.

Likes and unlikes — such is the nature’s lore,
Be the seed that breaks its shell and grows once more.
  Stand firm and nurture all you hold inside,
  Your voice, your shadow, your unpolished pride.

Never let fear hush the thunder in your chest —
Speak storms of truth, though silence might seem best.
  Tongues will wag like branches in the wind,
  But roots run deeper when they don’t pretend.

Most trade their colors for another’s hue,
They wear borrowed skins to seem brand new.
  Yet stand apart — like a lone tree crowned in flame,
  Unafraid to bear your honest name.

You need not twist your soul to be untrue —
Be your own sky, be your sun and morning dew.
  For it’s enough — this flawed and fearless star —
  To live unmasked, to be just who you are.

Smoke slithered skyward, a silent silver hymn,
Like snakes of sorrow where the light grew dim.
My body, bruised, crept low through war’s refrain,
Yet my heart rang loud in the hush of pain.

The grass, like velvet, welcomed weary skin,
As pines above swayed slow in sacred spin.
The heavens stretched — a canvas washed in gold,
A breathless scene too wondrous to be told.

The Sun emerged, a monarch on his throne,
Scattering sapphires where the wind had blown.
Each blade of grass wore jewels like a bride,
With dewdrops dancing, star-like, side by side.

“Steal them!” stirred the mischief in my chest —
But peace, not plunder, filled my soul with rest.
The fields lay still, like hearts in silent prayer,
The world — a whisper held in morning air.

A single drop, like love, fell on my face,
A gentle kiss, the sky's forgiving grace.
The breeze began to hum a nameless tune,
The clouds gave way, and rain became a boon.

Each dewdrop held the story of the land,
A mirror forged by time and nature’s hand.
They gleamed like thoughts too deep for voice or ink,
Then vanished softly at the eyelid’s blink.

I closed my eyes — not sleep, but soul’s retreat,
Wrapped in the warmth of dawn’s unfolding beat.
Even as darkness tried to claim the day,
The dew kept shining — soft, and sure, and gray.

And I, though broken, found my burden gone —
Bathed in the beauty of the dewy dawn.

i keep on
waiting --
like the pause
after asking a
question that
nobody
answers.

my tears,
they dont fall loudly
anymore.
instead --
they sit behind my
eyes,
like letters
that i
never sent.

i write to you
in my head --
it's not the same.
folding paper thoughts
into quiet,
dark,
corners of my mind,
and pretending
you might still
be calling
me back
someday.

but theres only
ever silence,
no evidence,
and me --
still waiting
for someone
who had
let go
first.

i always say
that im fine.
its like driftwood --
something to
cling to
while the waves
pull harder.

but my soul...
it doesnt
float
like how it
used to.
instead,
it now aches
quietly
beneath the surface.
still calling
for something
that is forever
gone.

the ocean,
she knows me --
the way i carry calm
on the outside,
but also the way
i drown
on the inside.

i always say
im okay
like a shoreline lie.
but my soul
still listens
for the footsteps
that aren't returning
ever again.

and i keep on
caring --
quietly,
like the tide
always going out,
but never
coming back
the same as
before the
water.

i dont always feel
like im growing,
like im changing --
but even flowers
take their time
to bloom
and to change.

When thunder shades your brow,
I could burst the storm clouds,
looming overhead,
until a smile, reignites you,
and you glow, like a shining sun.  

When flares, of helpless pain,
snarl tender joints,
I want to find the thread,
hidden, in your bed, of nerves
and PULL it gently,
until the knot,
pops out.

I'd like to scry,
the deep, shining pool, of your eyes,
and read their formations,
like tea leaves.
I hope to exorcise the demons,
that lean over your shoulders,
and laugh,
at anything you do.

I want to take your hands, in mine,
and infuse you, with my energy.
I long to push my palm, against yours,
and see if our lifelines
kiss, as ardently as we do,
and travel harmoniously, together,
under a wake, of shimmering stars.

I yearn...to pour myself upon you,
like healing water,
and bathe, the full of you,
into the gentle tides, of me.

To tie, the nucleus
of our aching souls, together,
in a flagrant twist,
of the loveliest
flowers, and vines...
because I need you, to hold me,

to cherish me
beyond lives, that end,
beyond worlds, that collapse,
beyond stars, that explode
into supernovas
of guttering stardust.

In you...
I can see a love,
that transcends

lives, together
dimensions, apart...

and galaxies, that could crumble,
only to release more stars,
around us,
like free, and floating fireflies
in the blue-black expanse,
of sky.

What bliss, it could be,
to burn, like an eternal torch,
with you,

beyond the dark well,
of time.

What bliss, it could be,
to take your hand, in mine
and jump, beyond,

the spinning,
quiet void,
of death.

What is desire but to consume?
The holiest form of destruction,
Stirring an exquisite ache no prayer can thin.
It is a beauty so cruel it leaves the saints disgraced.
It breathes through the marrow, the mouth, the wound,
Splitting the spine from the soul with a presence stitched in shadow and silk

She arrived not as a woman,
But as a reckoning-
A cathedral of flesh made from midnight and bone,
Created before the world ever learned how to spell mercy.

He watched her at first from the safe distance of sanity,
Ignoring as God whispered to him to run.
At first, he classified it as fascination.
Then fascination bloomed into obsession the same way rot blooms beneath skin-
Silent, swelling, inevitable.

When he touched her for the first time…
It was the undoing of the commandments-
The rewriting of scripture in the language of skin.
Her taste- a sweet apostle of destruction
Carving prayer into his throat.
He had experienced her power and he now begs God to create another sin.
But there was no turning back.

His mouth learned the litany of her name
And her gaze was an abyss that whispered to him to jump.
Anointed with nails dragged down a spine
He, the disciple-
She, the altar.
Both overflowing with want,
With starvation.

When the angels wept, god finally picked up his pen
However, instead of carving into stone
He carved into trembling flesh:
“Let them be devoured.”
With this, God gifted her with the grace to tear him down to the marrow,
And he was grateful to experience each and every fracture.

Even with this, one cannot end in evil.
Not when love wears the face of ruin-
Not when surrender feels like salvation.
For how can one turn away from something so sinister when it wears the velvet guise of desire, whispering like a lover in the dark?

He laughed then. Loud- wild, cracked open.
Because madness replicated the flavor of her mouth-
Copper and honey, salt and blood.
There is no difference now between suffering and worship,
Agony and ecstasy.
And it is here he understood that love is to be consumed
To beg for the fire to burn cleaner.
Hotter.
Longer.
To become ash in her mouth,
And thank her for it.
He has forgotten his name and replaced it with hers,
Forgotten his face and replaced it with an outline of her hands

He has become broken by devotion and remade in her image.
For what is desire but to consume?
To melt the border between pain and prayer,
To be broken open,
To drown laughing in her shadow
And call it love.

I only grow flowers with thorns.
Beautiful from afar,
Their petals softer than skin after shea butter,
But poison to the touch.

Their scent so captivating,
You can't help but search for it,
Only to be knocked out once found.

Those brave enough to pick up the stem
Will always regret it.
These thorns are razor sharp,
And they love to embed.

I am caught, in your eye,
and I drown, in your tectonic wave.
You rattle, intimately,
for me, and shake...

You shift,
minutely,
soundlessly,

collapsing, into sprawling patterns,
into formulaic strains, of madness.
Then you madden, me, as you cascade,
into beautiful, and brilliant shades:

Your Rorschach mosaics,
in prismatic hues.
Each gemlike, facet, of YOU, that is you...

Burning out my gaze,
with your radiance,
as you irradiate...

I'd give anything...to label each color,
that infuses, your face...

Scattering trickles of light,
and roseate shapes...

as if your soul,
were a treasure trove,
of the most precious jewels.

Your vibrant emeralds...
your smoky citrines...
your sapphire blues...
your ruby reds,
and your royal amethysts, too

You twist, in my hands...
and, under the light,
I turn, and return, too,
if only to seek,
a fleeting glimpse...of you.