From the very dawn of my existence
Your velvet blanket covered over me
Shielding me from prying eyes.

Your heart beats along with mine.
We are one.

Your cord of love tethers me to you.
You rein me in to keep me from flying away.
You are my safeguard
You are my snare.
I am attached to you forever.

The produce of your breasts nourishes me
Yet it is also like a poison slowly killing my independence.

Your hands cover my eyes over so that I do not see the calamities of this world
And yet they also blind me from your faults.
You shut my ears to keep me from hearing the voice of reason.

When you cry, I cry.
When you lose, I lose
Yet your victories are yours and yours alone.

Mother, I would kill for you even if that means the life that has to be sacrificed is my own.


“The Last Man Standing”

He is standing there . . . still like a well-crafted statue.

Loyal to his assignment, never moving.

A faithful witness, dependable and true.

A reliable timekeeper, he is never late.

The rains never faze him. The winds never shake him.

His face as pale as white ash glimmers through the darkness of the night.

His stark features make him stand out from others of his kind.

Clad in classic all-black attire that carefully wraps around him like a meticulously woven cloak.

His countenance slightly changes with each passing night but his exuding beauty still humbles me every time.

I marvel at his presence, I stare just for a little while longer before I walk away.

He basks in the attention of his audience.
Young and old, they are all captivated by his spectacular image.

Cool, calm, and quiet.

Composed even in the face of the dangers of the night.

He rests his eyes on me, and I feel safe under his protective gaze.

His bright silvery eyes reassure me.

He stretches out his hand to help me find my way home.


“The Deluge”

A large ocean surrounds me
A deep void of darkness is inside me
Waves of doubt crash against my face
Im losing what’s left of my little faith

I’m overwhelmed

My head above the water
Trying to keep afloat
Screaming out for help
I feel the waters tightly gripping my throat

I’m overwhelmed

Sinking deeper and deeper
My limbs are getting weaker
How long will I survive
Before I lose my will to stay alive?

I’m overwhelmed

My body becomes heavier
My heart emptier
I freeze in motion and accept my fate
The ocean floor is my destination
And I will not be late.


“This is not a Love Letter”

To my hopeless love

This is not a love letter, rather, I write you with a heavy heart because I know we can never be together. Even so, I am gripped and can’t break free from your charm.

This is not a love letter, but I am incarcerated by your gaze. The truth in your eyes sees right through the lies in mine. I try to hide it, but you are all-knowing. Just a glance from you melts away all my defenses and chokes away all the words from my mouth. I can’t seem to remember how to speak or breathe.

I promise this is not a love letter, however, your rare touch, insignificant as it may be to you, leaves me longing for more. My hands and body quickly free themselves from your embrace but my soul can’t, and won’t let go.

This is still not a love letter, but the sound of your voice leaves me paralysed I lose my sense of self and I scramble to pick up the pieces of my scattered mind. That is what you do to me.

This is certainly not a love letter because we both belong to someone else, but I cannot ignore the passion between us whenever we are together, and the emptiness I feel when we are apart. Tell me what to do in this desperate situation, in this tug-of-war where the battlefield is my heart. How do I escape you or forget you?

This is not a love letter, but it might as well be because my heart belongs to you.

From your secrete love


“Who do you think you are?”

What makes you think you deserve better?

Your tears mean nothing, your pain is nonexistent.
You’re not soft enough, not feminine enough, delicate enough, or even desirable enough.

Who do you think you are?

Why do you think you deserve more?
What you have is sufficient for a girl like you.

Love? for someone like you?

Do you people even know what love is?
All you’re good for is labor. Hard labor, no playing around, no having fun, be serious and you will be taken seriously.

Why are you relaxing?!

you people are strong, with thick skin, born for heavy loads. It’s in your genes. Now, get back to work!



She was planted on the cold hard ground.

Stomped on, stunted, just left behind.
Suffocating in a dark, cramped space, feeling confined.
The only voice of comfort was her own, her own mind.

She was scattered along the concrete sidewalk.

Expected to take root, expected to flourish.
Neglected, unwatered, unnourished.
Will she ever grow or see the light of day?
Or will she perish and just wither away?

Yes, she was forsaken. Yes, she was shaken. But she was never broken.

Against all odds, she began to sprout.
Shunning all doubt.
Shooting out, aiming for the sun.
She is chosen, yes she is the one.

Budding, flowering, blooming!
Soon all will see her rare beauty, so consuming.
They will hear her song unsung.
Be mindful, her journey has just begun.


“You have one new voice message”

A note? Really?!

You didn’t have to stoop so low.
Could have just told me to my face.
Well, I guess you’re just slow.

I loved you for real.
Instead of loving me back,
You just made all my mistakes a big deal.
Endless nagging and whining
In front of friends and family, you always had the worst timing.

Good riddance!
That’s all I can say.
I hope you never come back my way.

I guess we were never meant for each other,
Because we were never good together.

I don’t care if I hurt you, because you hurt me too.
Don’t act all innocent, you know very well that “it takes two.”
I wish you all the best too.
As long as I never hear from you.
Next time someone mentions you,
My response will be “Sasha, who?”


“The note on the Kitchen Counter”

If you’re reading this, it means I’ve already left.

The act is over, no more pretending.
We both knew from the start that we would never have a happy ending.

Loving you doesn’t feel right anymore.
It feels more like a chore.
Believe me when I say you hurt me to my core.

I wish I could say writing this was hard.
But the truth is, all your “love” ever did was leave me scarred.
No love allowed, I am like a wall. All emotions are barred.

I can’t decide what hurt the most, your actions or your words.
But that doesn’t matter anymore
I’m good, regardless of what you thought or heard.

I want to fall in love again, but this time with no regret.
What you and I had is over, I just want to forget.
I’m leaving you, and no, this is not a threat, not a test.
Despite everything though, I wish you all the best.


“What I’m hoping for”

I never knew loneliness until I met you.
I never knew pain until I felt you.
I never knew fear until you looked into my eyes.
I never knew sorrow until you rejected me and never held me when I cried.

I am not asking for too much.
Please don’t judge, or hold a grudge.
I just need a little attention.
That’s why now and then I give you a little nudge,
For you to look at me, just look at me.

Is it that hard for you to express your feelings for me?
If I was different would you treat me differently?
What do I need to change please do tell?
I will do anything, I’ll try to break out of my shell.

I’m tired of fighting for a portion of your heart.
Either you give me your all, or you’ll watch me depart!

What if I meet another
Who will treat me like no other?
With one look, he will know exactly what’s in my heart.
And he will accept and love my every part.

But that’s just what I’m hoping for.


“I remember the day I caught sadness”

I remember the day I cought sadness.

It was the day I realised that I hated my father. Well, he hated me first, so I hated him back.

This illness began as a tiny seed, but then it grew quickly and weeded it’s way all around the blooming flower garden of my juvenile heart. It suffocated me. It choked all the joy out of me.

My father had no idea how ill I was, or maybe he knew but just didn’t care.
To my dismay I found out that he was also suffering from this disease, and it was hereditary. That meant I had no choice but to suffer.

He was a man of few words, and with those words he would always convey discipline, disgust and disappointment. Bursts of anger and endless tantrums were typical whenever I made a mistake. I hated it, I hated him. I still do.

I still remember the day I caught sadness.

The sound of my Father’s foot steps haunted my dreams. His disaproval hung over me like a dark cloud carrying a heavy storm. I was so afraid to dissapoint him, and this is why I never learnt to love him.

I was condemned with this illness so early in life and that proved to be too much of a burden for me to carry. I wanted to get well so desperately, so I took refuge in pills and potions. They only dulled the pain with temporary enjoyment. It felt like a peaceful dream that got interrupted by the horrific nightmare of real life.

I recieved neither consolation nor comfort. No “get well soon” cards, or warm soup to help me recover. Not even a single kiss of compassion from my mother. I was just left alone, to perish on my death bed.

So I decided to run, to leave my father and all my pain behind. I wanted be free, healthy and happy. But the further I ran the heavier my feet got. So heavy that they would drag me back. Back to that dark place. A place that I’m still trying to escape.

I will always remember the day I caught sadness, and it will be apart of me forever.
No relief, no remedy. Till death do us part.