Heartbreak at 16.

Moonlight casts shadows.

Hides the wounds.

The vermilion invisible.

The cuts cloaked.

The pain peeks

From the cracks

In the armor

She’s been wearing

Since the first

Heartbreak at 16.


My Doom.

They say you sense doom from far, far away.

I hadn’t.

I hadn’t seen the destruction.

I hadn’t heard the heartbreaking wails.

I hadn’t smelled the stench of unending hurt.

I hadn’t tasted the salt in the tears.

I hadn’t moved the vessel of my being,

Lying like a corpse at his feet.

I hadn’t backed away from my doom.

I hadn’t sensed.


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