From Ink Onto Blood


I wrote

Thriving in your presence

An ode to love

And today

I write

Sinking in despair

An antidote to your absence

A balm to the pain

A salve to the hurt

An obliteration of memories

Yet you seep into

Every word

Flow out

With every thought

Hijack every feeling

Till I can no longer write

In ink

As my heart

Bleeds dry.


Matches and Candles

Some people are like matchsticks

Starting up with a dazzling light

Before flashing and burning down to nothing

A simmering pile of soot

A has been of a never was

And some

Are like candles

Slowly burning

With a subdued glow

Spreading warmth

Giving light

Melting themselves

For your sake

Yet, we let the dazzle

Blind us to the warmth

Probably why my heart is dank and cold today

Rather than a well lit, cosy abode

Strike a match again, will you?

And light up the wick?


The shadows of the past

Catch up

When I’m not looking

Darker than ever before

Looming even larger

Scarier than what I remember

More eerily sinister

Whispering sweet-nothings

In hurriedly hushed silences

Ominously hissing closer

Heralding a spell of doom

I feel the walls close in on me

As I’m stuck inside this room






Once again





Against the spokes of time

Put in some distance

Dig a moat

And pull up the drawbridge

Into an island of isolation

Stir not

From therein

And don’t even dare

To venture a glance

Towards your own shadow

30 pieces of silver

Or a sum far less than precious

Is all it’ll take

For your very soul

To sign your own damnation.

Heaven, Hell and Something Else

I looked up

And saw the sky

Shimmering in all its glory

They call it heaven

An abode

Where Gods reside

I looked down

And saw the depths of earth

Fiery and smoldering

This one’s hell

They said

Standing for payback

And eternal damnation

Then I ventured a glance

Towards all that was around me

I saw a myriad things, places and people

And because it still felt dark, empty and hollow

I called it void

Where humanity goes to hide.


Like a child

Free of beguile

I’d once given you my heart

With open arms

And a smiling face

You’d played well your part

And now I’m doomed


And scarred

With no chance of a fresh start

And I wish

Like a child

Free of beguile

I could once more behold the world

For its pulchritude

Is lost on me

And in its multitude

I now reside

A soulless heart

In a nameless wreck

Now I’m just

An interlude.

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A Lot Like Love

A little like a nightmare

A lot like a dream

A long standing hope

Amidst fears it may seem

One in the other

Bonded together


And intertwined

A jumbled up smother

A tug

A pull

A snag

A hitch

Followed by

A lurch

A jerk

A jolt

A twitch

And soon you’d be free falling

And yet, somehow, also drowning

Into something


A lot like love.


One more time

On the merry-go-round


This time it’d be different

The ride wouldn’t break

The music wouldn’t stop

And the laughter

Wouldn’t fade away

One more go

At the merry-go-round

To relive the magic

That’s been lost

The twinkling lights

Around me blink

And, my love, I will be


Learn the art of converting your prized work into a book from one of the very best bloggers (and also my personal favourite) that we have here!

Thank you, Christine, for taking the time to write this.


When I first contemplated choosing pieces and organizing them for Composition of a Woman, I naively thought it would be fairly quick and straightforward process. I had recently served as the editor for an art show chapbook that included pieces from 12 very diverse girls and women and as the primary editor for Anthology Volume […]

via Anatomy of a Book: Choosing and Organizing Your Writing — Brave & Reckless

Pandora’s Box

I found it!

Yes, really

Tucked away

Within a distant memory

That floating sense

Of being in love

And more wonderful still

Of it being returned


Now reminded

I think I am

Perpetually hounded

By ghosts of what we were

And the shambles

Of what we are

How do I get

The lid back on

So a mantle of obliviousness

I can once again don.

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