Well Crafted Heartbreak.


Oh, I’m an eclipse?
this, is this heartache crying?

You tell me,
who’s heart I trampled;
when mine’s beat
had never withstood
harshness of change
within a day.

I, I loved you…
I loved how it seemed
it was your well crafted piece
only saying my name,
the call in it went beyond
just my name being called.

Take this, take it all.
This, this is what I would’ve wasted
in form of tears.
Now, they’re only a tug
and haven’t been embroidered
in indecisions, corruption;
both our individuality.

But before I can claim,
any brightness attached to my first tasting;
I’m not an eclipse.
To us, if we were to recollect
our memories similarly,
I would be a stagnant time;
bound by weakness
and overthrown by change.

Related to us…

I, I loved you.
I loved your hurried steps
like bundled years that let me to you.
You didn’t notice but,
I, I always counted
yet every time our toes met;
it felt we’d already lived out our time.
Tragic desires
That fulfilled their passion.

You tell me,
When I became an eclipse…

After Dark.

I guess you could conclude
deceiving the dead has its merits,
It lets you hear your mistakes
at their most vulnerable
and your heart when it’s close to explode
You could say,
betraying right before a peak
is not outright evil but
epitome of how human selfishness
can truly reveal its magnificence.

– (after dark),

This is to say,
If I were to die suddenly;
won’t you remember me?

If Not, Reprimand Me.

Would you blame me Father?
for not listening to their teachings of you,
how they told me to love you
but would rather I follow my heart?
And held resentment in my human heart
for differences I noticed between me
and those who are said to be blessed,
not said by anyone in particular but
my eyes where I think those in your
favour are ought to stand?
Would you blame me,
when I think of you,
my eyes fill with tears that contain
much loneliness in this life;
detestment of this life
I wonder if for you I was ever a shining star
amongst your trillions of brighter shining stars?
For wanting reassurance
and asking for that testament
in those that are materialistic though
my soul is content with only seeing the sun?
Would you blame me Father?
as you’ve seen how I’ve fallen under
the judgment of their eyes and
can no longer proudly claim myself
since I have nothing to put forth as tribute?
This has turned my side of the relationship bitter,
do you blame me,
having love for you that’s been corroded
by what being human is and I thought
I could overcome by believing in you wholeheartedly
yet have succumbed to this monetary world?
Is my love for you only selfish Father?
Do you blame,
because when I’m alone lost in thought;
I blame myself.

Our Innocence presents Selfishness.

How you said,
between us; our meeting time and place
is closer to our souls resting,
not dying but rejoicing on;
how our eyes will start to chase
the journey of a shooting star
this is,
how you said;
when we met, it couldn’t have only been
clouds clapping hands or
winds from China seas racing
to tangle with those at the African front,
we met and;
I might have forgotten to lift, secure my past
past the prying eyes of life,
and the bearer of our simplicity;
falling in love?

secret admiration

Soul, have you ever wondered;
I collect the unrefined feelings of – brought into this life
and they fight over dominance with you
yet you remain hidden, untouchable light
that not even the hungry eyes can devour.
Have you thought what might happen
if you came into my heart or mind
placed your presence were it won’t turn everything to ash
but suppress this greed, this hunger
this longing, this loneliness
my picked up redundancies; overthinking or overindulgence
maybe you’ll make out of me then
a content vessel; after all I host freely,
and would cherish favour to be me?



In love?

It must be a waltz but I’ve never waltzed
or soft tapping of feet on solid cloud
but a steady feeling, observing when to storm or harvest
the kind one can never regret.

You know a craving of chocolate
while having an aching tooth,
Or a run on a rainy day,
There’s reason, not spiteful but one
which could prevent a headache
Yet the heart will only stomp it’s feet.

I feel, I might have been in love
each time a pen translated my thoughts;
Yes, my hand was writing
but description that lets me meet
my thoughts, how it feels as though
they’re conversing with me
whilst silly but to my soul
it’s a taste of said waltz or glide by amongst the stars.

You know; the roof that’s been unrestricted.
In love…


What that irresistible
feeling neglected to say is,
there lives other feelings beyond
your touch shortens my breath
and with your eyes locked on mine
If there is lava alive
in a heart that could come down on its own
my cheeks will tell all
how you set me alight.

I fell in love, no?
without insurance and
the smoke have left no trace.

Pick me up, along the ashes of that irresistible.
Wasn’t I alight?
But on my face is; it went too quickly.

Subtlety In The Wind.

The subtlety in how the wind stirs a conversation
between my hunched self, the dreamer and the reluctant
I heard is a form of dance, art that persisted
would keep it’s elegance even when the howls
of a dying species are ringing more than the wind can tame.

I saw a formation of rich men
rich men that by their perspective
I’m a leech because though my facade is firm
how I raise my hand, touch my face even drink water
says I’m overly exerting my desperation, trying
to jump into the lane they were born.
Are they saying I am a gold-digger?

I learnt, not only learning but I starved
a writer’s mind to keep my head where my mother could
see her own dreams start to walk, and walked they did
for a mile or so they gallivanted. See, I could speak that language
she could not and my reading along with writing was beyond
only the world she knew, being I was a writer in my dark room;
but this along the backwater town mindset I inherited
proved mightier than the pen, thus I’m living here still
and she no longer calls me her daughter.

Yet the wind’s seduction didn’t reduce,
when a full moon remained above my head teasing to a hungering soul
the wind didn’t let me enjoy even a conversation with the stars,
it let me to believe, it let me to be convinced that
I should bow not only my dignity to the power of living but
history too; history of where the rocks might have drifted
and men along the way learnt too to be by themselves.
I didn’t become a man…

Let me go I said, I said perhaps it was in a dream
that dream my mind could let go but my conscious lives by.
In the end I’ve become unhappy, tormented
by the man I hope to love and a life I wish to live.
Bargaining, I told those men
each full moon to pass by my street, if the sight is to their satisfaction
then let me eat on the plates they’ll throw away.
Mother no longer speaks to me…

Blatant Oblivion

In capacity of my own understanding,
me; bringing forth what I should have let go
many years ago, now standing in front of you
still explaining the very same thing;
I knew not how to let go
says, besides my own negligence that I
me who might have fallen in love
was never truly in any stance or chance
to say, my feelings were true and I understood
what they meant no matter how blatantly I ignored
I knew who you would’ve been to this parched soul
had my intelligence been the sky in my life
but I find I’m out of favour with normalcy
I know to stew and hover, along those
feelings that have started to boil.