I spent too much time hiding my true feelings, Pretending everything was alright and concealing. My anger, frustration, and hurt deep inside, Afraid that speaking up would cause my ties to be untied. But today, I’ve had enough of pretending and lies, Of suppressing my emotions and living in disguise…

I write love poems instead of suicide notes, I remind myself that I am capable of feeling more than hatred. I don’t give death a voice today. I don’t give sadness the breath it needs to speak. Write a poem about your eyes so that I won’t cry. …

Bear with me on this for I am aware of how the title might sound, while “a lot”might not be the most intelligible approach in such a statement, I believe I can underline and enhance it more positively for is it not quite the challenge to gift various perspectives and…

(Where the love will never be served) The world begins at the kitchen table, they said. I heard the song and poems about it everywhere, the dining table that serves meals as warm as a hug. I have been always listening closely and nod because I thought I understand. What…

It is seven, and the day is unclear whether nighttime curtains us or rather, morning has crept upon the fissured lot of where we reside Blue hour stains the skies, blood amongst cirrostratus clouds – watercolor across thin edges I wrap the entrails of my thoughts like knots from a…

I often keep my eyes from wandering too much when I’m walking; headphones on, a specific song that I’m fixated on for the rest of the month is playing, and I just walk. Often times more than none, a destination should be ahead of me, this time I’m going home…

Time on my wrist, And time in my pocket, Operated by battery, Or plugged into a socket. Time on a clock, and time on a phone, Time to go working, and time to go home. Time to eat up, And time to be sleeping, Time to be happy, And time to be weeping. Time kept to love, and time left to hate, Time to be early, and time to be late. Time on a dial, As told by the sun, Time on a spring, All set to be sprung.

I can still recall the first F I got in university, it had to be one of the most traumatizing experiences, I cried for days on end, as one does when they fail while having their drive be academic validation. …

Being alive is the strangest feeling. It’s a fever so low and as cold as ice — you wonder how your heart beats and feels so numb. I’m still learning how to breathe in this world: with ocean eyes and smoky lungs. A universe within a universe born out of…