An autumn love

An autumn type of love

Scorching sun, freezing winds that lift me away into an abyss of all the hearts I butchered with stainless steel daggers with leather handles.

Not quite sure whether a jacket or sun umbrella is appropriate for the occasion. Appropriate for the day your climate stabilises and you declare your love for me under the showers that the Gods will send for us in abundance. Appropriate for the day you kiss me under the sun for the birds and bees to witness and flutter their wings to the ecstasy that will be emitted off our lips.

An autumn type of love

Leaves falling along with the walls we built separately around our minds like continental boarders. Your love freezes my lips every single time you charge my body with those polished brass hands and copper veins.Heart pumping lightning you strike me down with a simple smile and send shock-waves down my flesh, while my head is on your chest listening to the complex machinery keeping you here alive with me.

An intricate type of love

Soul perplexed by this maze and why I sit and stare at it in awe, instead of searching for a way out, but obscurity has always amused me. Soul perplexed by this familiarity and why your kisses taste like home, or your touch feels like warm milk on my skin. A love so temperamental like leaves preparing for suicide to make room for birth.


Whisper my name


I’m in love with the way that you whisper my name, when my body hands itself to you in hopes of conveying all the eruptions your words evoke in my mind.

When my body hands itself to you in hopes that it can love you just as hard as my soul and that the energy stored in these cells can be used to satisfy your flesh till it numb to everything except my touch, tongue and tantalising hands.

I’m in love with the way you whisper my name when my teeth meet your ears, when you rise to the simple sentences I utter about this complex ideal called life, when my presence ignites flames in your depths fuelled by lustful conversations about our deepest desires and sexual expeditions.

I love how you whisper my name when my soul amuses your youthful, naïve eyes for they have never seen something so majestically beautiful. When my poetry kisses your succulent cocoa lips because my pages are way too familiar with your face and my ink has run out from all the times I wrote your name out alongside all the exhibitions in you I am yet to explore.

I’m in love with the way you say my name, because your voice makes my knees rattle and drown me in a pool of passion.


Fear of the inevitable

I have become accustomed to men who run. They run when something powerful enough to make their false titanium knees to shake.

They run when you make their hearts jump in puddles that were left behind after painful storms. They run. They pack their bags so fast, because love can make the strongest soldier back down. I have been accustomed to my father.

I pack my bags and run when I fear that you wont catch my heart in your palms like a crystal when I tumble over you. I run because I fear that I might be too much of woman for you, that you could never learn to love a deity such as myself. That maybe I am just an experiment, or a new ice cream flavour you have been dying to taste.

I run. because I become perplexed when you have no desire to escape from this prison I call love. Continue reading “Fear of the inevitable”

High school is not the end – hang in there

You wake up at 5am every damn morning to go to a place you have clearly been forced to go to, supposedly meant to build you into a wonderful human being destined to save the world. Save it from what, its self? You wake up at 5am every damn morning to shackle your mind to the oppression that’s hidden in dusty chalk boards. Where you never really are smart enough or sporty enough, a place where no one ever realises that maybe I am not good at science or some dumb maths equation I am never going to see again EVER, as if I will need to solve the value of x2 in the supermarket when all I really came for was just milk; how maybe I am great at painting, poetry, singing or making people happy is my talent. You are never really taught how to survive in this warzone we call life, instead we are taught how to think and taught to believe that there really is only one right solution to every problem, and you are supposedly an idiot because your solution didn’t make sense to their tedious minds and because the answers on your test are ‘just wrong’. So exactly how are we supposed to ‘be the change’ when all we are taught is how to box our minds and cram the perfect paragraphs? Continue reading “High school is not the end – hang in there”

We were young and dumb.We’re older now

He showed you lust that you easily confused for love. How you mistook “You have such nice boobs” for ” I love you”  and how lemons and honey tasted the same when dripping from his lips. The only love he knew how to show you was the bulge in his pants waiting to explode, and his rough hands that ‘love’ to touch you. He tore you limp from limp and left a brand new scar with every kiss. He tears you up like an old newspaper and crumbles your heart like a chocolate wrapper and leaves you standing in the dark with crusty cheeks from all the stains your tears left. How he brags to his friends about that girl you gave your last pad too, so that she wont embarrass herself in front of a peanut gallery of insecure high school girls; about how she is with him every hour that you are not around and how her bust and curves are far better than the devotion stored in you. And all the night’s you stayed up over the phone listening and digesting his every word that fell from his lips because he had a bad day, meant nothing.

You meant nothing… The pillows drowned in your tears and the walls cracked from all the silent screams you kept buried in your throat every night. And you never really wanted to leave, you just hoped that all the threats of your departure would remind him to love you and hold you. But when he walked out of your life like a storm, not even candles could light up your life like the fire of his love. Fire is beautiful but burns you to ashes with its warmth. Where was the light when it was needed ? Continue reading “We were young and dumb.We’re older now”