Mushy Old Love

Our love is icky and mucky,

We got our fingers all messy so we tried to be careful.

Now it’s all over our hands and face,

I tried to scratch my ear and I got some there too,

Then He tried to wipe it off with his elbows and soon enough he had the muck all over him.

Our love is messy,

And our love is sweet,

Sugar, cinnamon and rainbow frosting,

Goodnight kisses and cuddles in the morning,

Ice cream parlours and walks on the beach,

Fire works and stuck on each other like a leech.

Too much sugar sometimes makes you sick, but this was sugar that could always be sweeter

Our love is icky and mucky,

Mushy old stuff.

And still to get mushier soon enough.


Precious Girl




Have you seen her eyes?

Chiseled from saphire, blue.

Have you seen them glow, even at love untrue?

Have you seen her lips?

Born of roses, red.

Have you seen them blossom in monochrome autumns we dread?

Precious eyes of saphire blue,

They could sit on an emperor’s crown,

But have these eyes ever cried, have they ever drowned?

Lips so royal, of scarlet sin,

Its beauty ages old,

But have they ever spoke of love,

Have they calmed a soul?

Precious girl, what are you made of,

Or what is made of you?

Rubies and roses, silver and gold.

Is that all you’ll ever know?

Or love and kindness,

Courage and politeness,

Will there be ever more?




The Emperor’s Daughter

Watch her sleep,
Cushioned in love, fluff and a purple velvet blanket.

Gold linen curtains and an ivory canopy, filtering the room of nightmares, aiding her sacred slumber.
The Emperor’s daughter , sorrowful princess, velvet-clad.
Beautiful as the sun, she was dawn’s glory yet birthed hell’s fire.
Embrace her paradoxical charms, for she thrived on nothing but unpredictability.
Watch her sleep, watch over the royal child, with bated breath she will rise and when that happens…
Help her calm her demons and welcome the morn.

Praying man


I watched him pray, this young man of hope.

With eyes humbly closed,

He joined his palms, close to his heart,

as if to cradle,

a few pieces falling apart.

I fixed my gaze on the praying man

and wondered what he was praying for.

Could it be for his family

or for himself,

This man had me wondering all to myself.

Was he offering gratitude

or beseeching forgiveness?

Maybe a prayer for the world,

and the ones who cried,

Or wishing for strength like the ocean’s tide?

He transcended from chaos to bliss as he prayed on,

through the night that preceded another dawn,

The breeze softly brushed his ebony hair,

as the angels shielded him from evil’s lair.

He was  peaceful,

yet inside him there was a storm that raged.

He was a beautiful sight,

praying in a world ever outraged.

This praying man got me praying me too,

for a heart that is mighty and a mind that is true.

As I looked at him with longing eyes, I prayed for the praying man’s dreams to be fulfilled too.




He scares her so much,
that when her knees tremble
She sees the stars change their place in the sky.
He makes her so insecure
that she’s lost faith in the sun to rise.
He’s made her so vulnerable,
when the clouds float in the sky
She feels they’re after her.
She has fallen for him.
because,how else can he be the venom and the only antidote,
the disease and the only cure, all at the same time?