TAPESTRY

I was a rag doll— trifled, toyed, and played Whose patchworks were rended, torn, and ripped Every scraps and seams don't fit I'm a roman tapestry— stitched, sewn, and weaved Every thread is an untold story A piece of a whole new one unveiling before me

POETRY IN MOTION

You are a poetry in motion an epitome of flamboyance and grace a dainty lingering my sanity You are a metaphor swaying on the tip of my tongue melds into what I digest You are the nature of this piece— a hush within my gale, a gleam amidst my clouds, the lucidity on misty nights …

AN OPEN BOOK

her love for him was an open book and he wasn't fond of reading

I’D WRITE ABOUT YOU

Maybe my words don't have value as much as yours... but I'd still write about you. I'd write about you on empty music sheets and dusky dawn, through the corners of an old hallway, through freezing glass windows on a Monday morning, through sunsets and good nights that were never said. I'd write about you …