Beyond Repair

A hole does not grow bigger

Than the heart

Which is its home;


A knife does not cut deeper

Than the flesh

Which clings to bones;


Time cannot steal the beauty

Of a face,

Whose light won’t age;


And fire cannot burn

The story

If burns the page;


Thus, I will not be broken,

While I breathe,

Beyond repair


And with my hands and thoughts

I’ll reach for hope

Beyond despair

The Brushstrokes

It’s all a dream:

The lowest moments

And the greatest,

The imperfections

And the changes

Made by the mind

To what was by the mind,




It doesn’t hurt, really,

When in my nightmares

Hungry demons

Gnaw at my bones

And rip to pieces

The magic heart

That every morning

I find unfailingly

Beating in my chest;


It is all a mirage:

This face, this body,

Their existence

And their ultimate


There’s nothing wrong

With pieces breaking,

Cracks manifesting

On the unforgiving skin


Painted over


In thick colors

Of fear

Named and signed

By the artist,

‘Me’ –

Both as a sentence

And a key


To freedom

The Habit

I have to ask you

Not to ask me

If it hurts –


Pain has become

Less of a feeling

And more of mere word;


It walks me home,

It sleeps with me

And holds my hand


Keeping at bay

The creeping fear

That I have nothing left;


You say I seem

To love my pain;

I wish that this was true;


What’s true’s that all I ever wanted

Hurt, challenged,

Broke or bruised me;


You see, I wasn’t

Made to live

The dreams of greater men,


And this was why

I had to make

A habit out of pain


The Ghost

Rise as if nothing had changed,
As if you still had all your powers;
Smile with the courage and grace,
Which once made you worthy of love;
Walk, as if you knew the way,
Thanking the loved ones you’re leaving forever:
They needn’t know that you will not emerge
From the storm, which will swallow you whole;
Now, not tomorrow, not a moment later;
Now! Brace yourself, take a breath, then, the step
Into the whirlwind of all you’ve been dreading:
There’s nowhere to hide and nowhere else to go;
Look in the eyes of demons from your nightmares,
Feel their claws brush against your bare nerves;
Watch them dig out your heart and cut into pieces
The treasures you lived for, honored and adored;
Scream if you must, here nobody could hear you –
Hell is as private a place as they come,
But writhing in pain, please, remember, remember
The faces of those, who loved you, whom you loved;
And then, rise as if nothing had changed –
It’s behind you, the eye of the storm;
You cannot go back; you stand alone
You have said your good-byes, ghost