Poetry

My First Heartbreak.

They often asked me

If I’d known from the beginning

I’d end up with a mess of a heart.

I smile.

I can’t tell them I’d known

When my eyes had first connected

With his amethyst ones

Across the room

That he’ll be my destruction.

He had smiled that crooked smile

And I’d experienced

My first heartbreak.

Poetry

The unnecessary Debris.

When he had walked inside,

He had bled.

The broken pieces of my heart

Had been scattered everywhere.

He had cleaned the wounds,

His and mine.

And then, he had settled in

With a curtain on the broken window

And the cardboard boxes strewn around.

Some to be unpacked.

Others, empty,

With a promise to dispose off

The unnecessary debris.

Poetry

Weight of her Soul’s Words.

Groaning joints

And whimpering cries

Later, she

Realised she needed

To relieve herself

Of the weight of

Her soul’s words.

Fingers swollen with

Golden sparks of

Poetries, she

Put a pen to paper

And let go of

The heavy words

Which lit up the

Skies a

Glimmering

Onyx.

Poetry

Bringing her words to life.

Alienating her heart

From the rest of her

Being hadn’t been

The easiest thing.

She was her heart.

Her poems were a

Part of her soul

And without the

Touch of the

Messed up muscle

All they reeked of

Was defeat.

She needed her heart

To bring her words

To life.

Poetry

Embracing her Demons.

And as she ran

Far far away

With her demons giving

Chase relentlessly,

She realised she

Couldn’t run from

Them.

They lived inside her.

She turned around

And threw her arms wide.

She was ready to accept

Herself as

She was.

Completely.