The clash of my heart,
against my skin 
as it thumps like the beat
played by that marching band
on the evening of the third day of fall
when vows were exchanged
when two hearts blossomed like one 
rose. Something red fell and landed on your head
and it was light and I remembered the chuckle I gave 
as I swept it away
deftly.

Under that tree, two became one
and as we walked my feet brushed against the fallen gems
crushing it all that lay on the ground 
the snap of twigs
the crunch of leaves,
of that leaf.
The thump of my heart 
as it beat against my chest,
against my skin

On the third day of winter,
snow fell and I saw it through the stained cracked glass.
What’s left of it is a fist sized bloody hole.
In all the white fluffy goodness
All I saw was red

Red was the colour of autumn leaves
Red is the colour of blood
the colour of love
the colour of pain

through the hole in the window 
I saw the tree and
it was bare,
the snow buried the fallen gems

it buried my heart.

Snowflakes fall on your head
my hand runs through your hair
and brushes on your face
Your tears fall down
like the raindrops surrounding us
in this world full of
pain and love and things
that make me sad yet these things
do make me smile and burst with
joy but fear and all things possible
in this world full of…

As long as I can feel

the girl opened her eyes and
everything was the same
the world hadn’t changed
not for her.

Only in her dreams
the future didn’t seem bleak but
what is a future
after all?

all that’s left is
a ghost of the 
past

A Brief History

I started writing poetry casually when I was 13. I think some of my first few poems are somewhere in my archives of blogspot (which I shall not be pulling out).

I started a blog specially for poetry when I was 17. I created it on Tumblr, with my first post aptly entitled Turning Seventeen.

A while back, Tumblr has decided for some reason that the material that I have posted may be “sensitive”.

I have been meaning to do this for a while now, but I am finally exporting my old poetry into a new blog. And in turn I am hoping that I will write more.

At 13 I was writing for fun. At 17 I started writing to express the thoughts and emotions I couldn’t share with anyone. Some were dark, others were about the quintessential teenage experience of unrequited love.

Now at 22 – having mentally and emotionally aged exponentially over the past few years – I am excited to see what my poetry will be about.

But first, the poetry of my late teenagehood (I will probably cringe while re-reading some of them but hey, growth?).