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poem

Poetry

ROBOT (a sketchy February)

Please, please and please, please
I beg you, let yourself fly,
you are not meant to sit on this ground
while your blood is made of air and wind.
Open your heart and let these wings take you away.
You are not cursed to bend a knee for this.

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Poetry

GIFT (a sketchy February)

What do you think I wrapped for you,
a pot of gold made with silver covering?
Do you think I bought the heavens
and put it in a box of butterflies?
I am not petty enough to bucket your tears
I am not humble enough to read your love letters.

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Poetry

INSECTS (a sketchy February)

I feel the itching around my heart,
some days it makes me want to split open apart.
Lately, I feel the crawling in my neck,
like I am so much trouble to you, a piece of wreck.
I never forget that emotions are like insects
they come with some special effects.

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