Astral Bodies|A Poem


Two astral bodies floating through space.
Poetry penned across a page.
I may never be able to match your light, I might make you fade.

Two chapters in a book shut tight.
As it sits on a dusty bookshelf.
We are rotting away.

Mortal beings. Slaves of time.
In my mind,
You are celestial.
Angelic you hold too much inside.

While I am withering away,
The nothingness, emptiness, the void.
Taking over my body.
Blood vessels, skin and bone.

One by one till’ I’m gone.-H


My heart is caught in a limbo, my eyes search the floor. Taking in every detail there is, a stain on your carpet. Coffee. I spilled it. Then they travel up, a look around the room. Bedsheets tangled, the book you would read to me when I was afraid of my own body. That old record player, how hard we tried to make it work, untill we didn’t. Untill it didn’t, work. Quite similar to you, me. Us. We didn’t work either, did we?
I try not to stay for long. Take what I came for. To my right, a cardboard box with a bright yellow sticky note attached to the front. My name scribbled across it in your handwriting. Is this what you did for the others too? It’s the box of my stuff, my clothes, shoes, picture frames with photos clawed in half. Was I that bad? 
Once I’m outside your flat I toss the stupid box of unwanted memories into the bin, better left forgotten, just like us. I look over my shoulder a last glance at the building standing tall. I see a reflection me, but I’m not alone. My hand is busy being pressed into yours, the smile on my face never fades and I’m not even looking at you. But this time I do. And you’re not looking at me too. You’re staring at Alex from across the street, as she bends down to pick something up. 
I realise just how blind I was. –H

A Late Night


I can see cracks in your skin, bruises on your thighs. Stood under dimly lit lights, empty streets and caffeine in my blood. It’s 2 am and I’m staring at the sky, as raindrops dance on the windows of shops long closed.And I say a little prayer asking God to stop time. Just like this, because the emptiness in my bones isn’t there, not like it was yesterday and the day before that. I wonder if this is being fine? Have you ever felt alright?

They told you to love her like poets fell in love with words and artists with art. I still remember the day I stole your skateboard, you weren’t mad because I was your friend and it was my birthday. Turning a year older had never felt better than it did that night. I scraped my knees on the road and you scared me on the way home. Something about needles and vaccines.But you could never stay, because they told you to love her like the skies loved the sea. Because they told you to love her. And that’s all that mattered to me.-H

Us |A Poem


We sang songs that no one heard.
Our voices choked up, they burned.
Sending flames up our throats.
Each note evaporated into nothing.
Each melody wasted away on a whim.

And we wrote poetry,
Words that fell from the sky,
Pages that screamed
Read me!
But our eyes were shut
Tightly like the insides of our minds.

Then when it rained colors,
We ran to find shelter in black and white.
To hide from what the universe needed us to be,
What we need us to be.-H

Your Last Breath


How did it feel? When you chose to say goodbye to the world.
On your dying day, did your chest feel tight? Was your heart all the way up in your throat, was it hard to breathe?

Did you look back? Did your hands shake? Your body sweat. Did those oceans inside your eyes finally start to overflow, coming out the other side, did they brim with tears that slid down your face over the dimples carved into your very cheeks?

All the hurt that ran in your blood, all the pain that swam in your veins finally escape, spluttering out of your body onto the floor, did you scream? Or was it just relief?

Did you see them? When you took your last breath, did you say something?
I hope you never forget.-H

Things To Get Off My Chest, pt:1


You live a hundred different lives. Each personality impaled into your chest, digging in like daggers thrust upon flesh.

I think back to the days you resembled something normal, when we could just sit at the dinner table, all four of us and we could talk about the neighbours dog, when making conversation wasn’t all that hard and sitting by you didn’t feel like the part of a job.

Now I pick the words I say, when I’m in a room with you I feel like I’m suffocating and the tension only rises from there. Zipped up mouths and every action is calculated, it doesn’t feel like a home anymore it’s more like an army camp.

And each day you come up with something new to fight about, something that shouldn’t matter at all. Accusations are made and fingers are pointed between you and her, I just sit aside not wanting to be caught in the storm you give birth to every night.

Flames dance on the ceiling of our house, the atmosphere always rigid. And I see you eating away at her brain and I wish I could say, but you’re too good at that game. How you twist it around and suddenly you’re the victim in this round.

And we’re not a family anymore, though we might have been long ago. We’re just a group people living under the same roof, simply because we have to.-H


So I figured that every now and then there are going to be things that bother me, things that hurt me in my personal life. And keeping them buried in my body won’t do any good, but to have them sit in my drafts won’t either. That’s pretty much why I came up with this series type thingy called “Things To Get Off My Chest”. Here I’m just going to write about the things that I don’t want to weigh me down. And maybe this is the last time I do this or maybe this is a start to something great, whatever it is, all that I know is that I felt like doing it and so I did it.

All that I can hope is that you guys can find something to relate to, something take away. Even if it’s something small that really doesn’t matter as long as it’s something at all.-H

Paper Stars |A Poem


You painted a hundred paper stars blue and hung them on my wall.
With cherry red lips, trapped between your teeth.
A bad habit you would call it.
Your vice.

Whispers felt like icicles down my spine.
Teach me how to dance, I know I keep stepping on your feet.
But it’s hard for me.

Under the warm summer sun,
Mud stuck to the bottom of my jeans,
You and your adventures
Will certainly be the death of me.

I lay in bed, stare at those paper stars.
Visible brush strokes and weirdly cut edges.
They look like shapes left undiscovered,

I’ll just have to pretend. Afterall,
You were never really good at art.-H 

Do Roses Grow Underground?


My name sits heavy upon the tip of your tongue. And I wonder, do roses grow underground? Will sunlight breakthrough the blanket of dirt in which you sit concealed, hidden below our very feet.

The thud of your heartbeat, arms clenched around my small frame. With limbs tangled and lips attached like skin stuck to bone. Digging in deep, let’s see what you find. Fire, water and ice, let’s see what you find.

Secrets stitched in flesh, broken promises, empty thoughts. There are scars on my mind, would you like to see?
Time sits captivated in the palm of your hand, your eyes tell jokes, ones that are so deeply twisted I might never know what you say when you speak, what you actually mean.

And I prefer to hide in the shadows, the light you bring is just too bright. Your grip on me is way too tight. I fear someday I might just snap, but for tonight I sit in your arms and I wonder, do roses grow underground?-H 

New City |A Poem


You took me to a new city,
A new home.
We stepped outside and you pointed to the sky,
A peculiar shade of pink.
Distant thoughts of calamity collapse.

Rolling down the windows of your car,
It’s cold outside, the wind blows through my hair,
Chipped nail polish, sun-kissed skin and mischievous grins.

We sit near the neon coloured gates, beyond them shine lights.
I can see how small I am, just another speck of dust.
Another light among the thousands that shine above.

Your car stops midway home.
We crouch down on the streets for some rest.
You hand me a cigarette and so the cycle starts.

A new city, hours of regret to forget.-H

You Lit The Match


You lit the match. Not inside my heart, but inside my brain. My thoughts were on fire. Some would only scream your name, some would beg me to run.

But you lit the match, and so the fire spread. In my mind, out my skull. Bones burning in the heat, skin melting away like candle wax, slowly.
A house of wood, paper-thin soul inside. Watch it light up like fireflies in the dark of the night.

As smoke rises, ashes fall to the ground. Black and bruised, can you distinguish my ear from my nose? Body parts scattered, no flesh inside. As secrets abide. Remaining in place as the barriers drop. Even with a flame so strong you couldn’t bring me down, not the whole of me at least.

What hushed whispers you heard, were aching screams tethered to the ground.
Who are you trying to feed?
Perhaps it’s the monster, inside you keep.
Fist fighting, clawing and biting. It comes out, the monster inside.

But don’t you worry, for he will be gone when you wake up. And so will I.-H