writing

    Vacancy

    It was a beautiful violet evening. The sun closing its final curtain, sinking behind a row of cityscape, casting an uninvited silhouette of the skyline in one’s bedroom. And here, in the east, an unheard story of a woman weeping in the dark emerges. Continue Reading

    writing

    The Lucky Ones

    It is easy to love when times are good. No flower has ever cowered from the light of the sun. It is effortless to open yourself to others when nobody has ever given you reason to be close. A heart that has never been broken is a heart unafraid.

    Loving when times get rough is another thing. Only the foolish would continuously throw themselves in harm’s way. Those who find themselves loving again, until they have names for their scars and rainy days, those are the ones people call crazy, those are the ones people pity. But they must see something in loving that others don’t, they must feel something that others can’t, and even though outsiders may look in shaking their heads, calling them the poor things, maybe it is they who are the lucky ones.

    writing

    Broken Roof

    Stand under this broken roof of mine
    It’s a measly protection from rain and sun
    There will be leaks and drafty air
    And I can’t always shelter you from them

    But under this broken roof
    You can lay down and count the stars
    Until you fall asleep facing heavenward
    With the moonlight encasing you

    Then you’ll wake the next morning
    Opening your eyes to a piece of the sky
    So breathtakingly azure and deep
    That you would think you’re still dreaming

    Take shelter under my broken roof
    And you’ll see life a little clearer.

     

    writing

    Girl on Fire

    A damaged beautiful girl,
    her name the colour of fire,
    burns brightly in the dark,
    sparks fly wherever she goes
    on the road of self-destruction,
    she pushes hands away
    refusing help

    burn, burn, burn,
    she crosses her heart
    and hopes to die.