img002 (2)i’m so scared of
the earthquakes that come
from my own
because just when i think
that everything’s okay,
you show up again.
an it’s enough to make my
world fall apart.

s.a.  ;  natural disaster

img005 (2)
when you first took your needle
and stitched up my wounds,
i welcomed your
careful sutures.
but now there are seams on my lips
and threads through my eyelids.

i used to wonder why
you left my ears to hear;
but when i hear honey dripping,
i wish you didn’t

s.a.  ;  tied to you


captions pt. 2

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brown is the color of
the warmth of an embrace,
the crackling of a fire,
the comfort of home.

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when dawn ignites the sun on the horizon,
the shadows can no longer hide us.
so let me savor this moment
spent in silence with you.

( 4:27 AM )

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a city that never sleeps —
methodical. systematic.
a forest of silent dreams —
tranquil. safe.

i was sitting alone,
my only company the
sound of cars running across the pavement
and footsteps fading down the hall.
yet it was

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she had the universe at the tip of her fingers;
she held the stars in the palm of her hand.
who are you to offer the world?

( already )

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my memories either have
faces without names
or names without faces.
but what i do not lack
is the spectrum of emotion
that one can never forget.

( faded, but never forgotten )

the other side of a broken heart

so often are words written in favor of
the broken,
the abandoned,
the forgotten.

but those who did the breaking,
did the abandoning, did the forgetting,
what happens to them?
what did they feel?
what did they seek?

were they truly brutal and cold,
or did they fumble with pulling the trigger?
were they a consuming fire,
or a rain that turned into a flood?

what if they didn’t want to hurt you,
but they couldn’t see any other way
to get out of the cage?

no, i am not justifying the actions of all.

i am only reasoning for the actions
of my own heart.

s.a.  ;  heartbreaker

Continue reading “the other side of a broken heart”


[ not sure where i’m supposed to categorize this. should i put a category called ‘rants’ or ‘blurbs?’ maybe ‘ramblings?’ it might be useful. ]

filters are interesting little things. they make sure that whatever comes out of it is changed, in one way or another. let’s start simple.

one. coffee filters are used in order to make sure that the coffee grounds don’t pass through. only the liquid coffee is allowed to fall into a lovely cup of coffee.

two. the filters for pictures are not only amazing but also quite useful. on one hand, it enhances your photo, making it look better and more appealing to the eye. it becomes a way of expression, a form of art even, if you want to get to that point. on another, it becomes a sweet lie. it becomes a way of hiding the reality of things — no sky was ever that pink, no eye was ever so vibrant. a way to make the unappealing appealing. whatever side you choose, no one ever forced you to use or not to use filters. i think it just became programmed into our aesthetics, or whatever you call that small part of you that thinks that everything has to look nice.

three. i think the most useful filter of all is the one we use daily: our minds. before we speak — and unfortunately some people lack this — we must first think carefully of our words. i do believe this is self-explanatory.

[ p.s. i’ve decided to make them all categories. i wonder how they’ll be filled eventually… also i still have no idea why i wrote this so don’t expect it to make sense all the time. ]

from today

[ there was a nice amount of inspiration today. ]

i’ve spent too long seeking
others’ approval
before i had the sense
to find my own.

s.a. ; don’t make the same mistake

i see those empty spaces,
and it only makes it harder for me
to wish away the need the longing
to be there beside you.

s.a. ; open seats

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there’s no better sunset
than one
spent with you.

s.a. ; home missing home


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it was abandoned.

no longer being able to serve its purpose, it was tossed aside for being broken — being useless. what had once elicited the joyful shrieks of young children now stays silent. it stays untouched. it stays, along with the moments of time past. it stays, but time is a thief — the ride, an oblivious accomplice. they have stolen memories that would never be made.

imagine how my heart had skipped a beat — in one of the worst ways possible — upon seeing such brokenness. imagine how my mind had raced to recall every memory attached to the merry-go-round in a feeble attempt to somehow give it life again.

when my hands had given a cart the smallest push, it had groaned in protest. it was the kind of sound that made you think of a dying cough or a house creaking just before it would collapse.

so i stepped away. and i let it cease.

you admire the flowers without knowing their names. you are so accustomed to glancing at a pretty bloom, acknowledging its smooth petals, then going your merry way.

you pick them without regard, without constraint. you savor its sweet perfume for a day then toss it out the next. the vases in your house are simply motels, each room waiting to be filled.

do you not care of what happens to the roses and tulips and daffodils and petunias? if only you had bothered to learn their names.

perhaps then you would realize how blossoms wilt once they are plucked.

( but you already knew that, didn’t you? )


you have no more silken sheets to hide your scales.
you have no more sweet incense to cover your scent.

i have seen those shining eyes.
i have heard your silver tongue.

your kiss, a pleasant poison.
your touch, a beautiful blade.

( but your seduction will not work here. )

s.a.  ;  sinful


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the cracks in the walls are there
to remind us
of how close we always are
to breaking.

( open wounds don’t heal easily. )

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drive a nail through my skin —
i’ll count it as a welcome battle scar;
i’ll have it as a stinging reminder.

( what story shall i tell? )

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once we fall,
we will truly experience
the world.

( perfection is not found here. )

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entangle me
in your coarse embrace.

( choke me with your love. )

Continue reading “magnify.”