when she loves.

when she loves, she loves ferociously
unabashedly, unequivocally
and with all she has to give
she is the song that gets stuck in your head
and the book that you can’t put down.

when she loves, she loves wholeheartedly
like a rescue dog that follows you home
her lingering eyes speak volumes in silence
her wandering hands hold passion in spades
she has a diamond heart that has no price

when she loves, she loves unconditionally
with tender words and gentle lips
she grazes just the tip of your tongue
and holds you up to show the world
just how important you are to her

and believe you me, when she tells you she loves you
she means it, more than you will ever know.

fangs

{are there serpents in your heart?}
{do they whisper to you, seethingly}
{venom is the only love you have?}

I had never known a love so consuming

that could envelop me in bliss, in ecstasy

and I had never known a knife so sharp

as the one concealed behind your tongue

{sink your fangs in, numb my heart}
{then swallow me whole, eat me alive}

I owe you nothing but my wounded back

and you owe me nothing but another lie

the only one I ever wanted to hear, and now

the paperweight that rattles in my rib cage

{I still love you, and I always will}
{I hear them hissing on every word}

Cold Air

I feel her in the frost

That kisses my lips and bites my tongue.

She is the cold air that burns my lungs

And the stiff wind that numbs my skin.

Not that she is cold; contrarily,

Her warmth is something unparalleled.

It’s just that all that heat didn’t belong to me

Just fire, slipping through my fingers.

Autumn’s Odyssey

Autumn sets in as if it’s unsure if it’s allowed to arrive: it starts unexpectedly, just a knock on the door, and then slowly inches its way in. Once it arrives though, it sweeps in swiftly and pushes the summer out with force, throwing the cicadas and the gratuitous daylight out with it. The way the air feels on my skin changes, as it does every year, from the tingling warmth of a July evening to the satiny crispness of an October afternoon. It smells different, tastes different; the atmosphere is made with a whole new recipe. It’s almost palpable, this new vibe, tickling at the edges of my sensory capabilities. Yet it’s always just out of reach, like the perfect word to describe how a song makes you feel. There are no words that can describe these flavours, these intrinsic emotions that come about from the things that affect us on an untouchable emotional level. So just like every other year, I try to savour the taste of the season changing: I taste the lingering salt from the ocean waves and the sweat rolling onto my lips, quickly fading into the bitter taste of fallen leaves and black coffee. It’s the undetectable sound of the trees exhaling, giving us that fresh air that breathes so much deeper without the stickiness. It’s cold in my lungs, quenching a thirst that no amount of water could satisfy. I taste autumn when I look at the Japanese maple tree in the front yard, standing humble but majestic as its leaves fade from crimson to burgundy and then to brown. That tree always reminds me of the passage of time. Its red leaves scream in defiance of the summer green, as if to say that autumn never truly lives or dies: it simply exists to bridge the gap, between life and death.

Saint Mathias

when planes look like shooting stars

leaving streaks across the fading sky

and the night is just a newborn still

it’s young like us, its purple skin

a luminous backdrop to yet another

summer night I won’t forget

with fuschia clouds like candy floss

and willow trees with arms that graze

the surface of the water just to see

if Saint Mathias speaks to me

ephemeral

​”but life is such an ephemeral thing, isn’t it?”

it’s the most transient, fleeting thing there is, I reply
but I punish the words as they unravel from my mouth
my disobedient children, pull me astray
and deceive from what I try to say
that life is not insignificant; no,
it’s the most enduring thing that I know
the question lies in whether I know for sure
that I know much of anything anymore

for aren’t we all just raindrops to a fire?
we are not life, merely passing intruders
and we’ll evaporate before we get there
because we are so thirsty for the flames

a vivid daydream

blurry eyed and barely conscious

lost within the newborn daylight

dreams that only recently dissolved

leave their imprints on my mind

like footsteps on a sandy shore

they’ll wash away in time because

the tide will rise and swallow whole

my castles that were built too close

and leave behind an empty canvas

I can’t quite paint symmetrically

or let my brightest colours flow

but when I wake my hands won’t shake

and I will compose a vivid daydream

Nearly Lost, Never Found

When maps might lead you far away

Tear them up and make your way

Towards a better, brighter day

A light that won’t lead you astray.

When your compass can’t find north

Try your best to summon forth

The courage to be nearly lost

And never found, at any cost.

When everything you know is wrong

Clear your mind, remaining strong

Learn again, although it’s long

And sing out satisfaction’s song.

Burn Out

Light the flame, curse my name

Tell me it could be the same

Try your best to hide the shame

Let me take all of the blame.
I thought I knew you…
I thought that I could shelter you.

Reduced to rubble, now I see

That you were- I thought- home to me.
I’ll flicker until I burn out like you wanted.
Just let go, let go!

I think to myself most every night.

But you’re a fire I can’t put out.

I pray you’ll find your satisfaction

In my ashes, scattered on the breeze.

thunderstorms.

the sound of thunder rolling in
an ominous warning that
the sky is upset, throwing a fit
taking its anger out on the ground

you can hear the clouds break
and release their heavy load
as rain starts pouring in sheets
like tears from an injured child

the first flash of lightning
strikes the ground, leaving burns
that spread out like a web
leaving ugly black scars

the vicious, incessant thunder
cracking like a bull whip
asserts its dominance over
everything in earshot

some people are like thunderstorms.