Not Yours to Sell

Most times I bleed these words;
Deserted by the elusive genius
As she courts other talents

Most times I squeeze these words;
Salty waters blinding eyes
As dams burst leaving no survivors

Most times I sift these words;
Trash swirling, syllables protest
As I step on someone’s toes

Once in a while a verse is given
Mundane comes to a halt; urgency
As I capture the moment

Creativity and commerce always controversial
“I do it for the love”
Therefore, impostor! These tears, sweat and blood
Are not yours to sell.

Note: This piece is for Magaly’s dark poetry for the cruellest month.

Blow Me a Kiss

And what is love?
Surely not the fleeting butterflies in summer.
It’s your everydayness―
That gets my fingers twirling absentmindedly
Tracing contours of a body on fire.
Blow me a kiss, then!
For I love your company.

Home Comforts

Note: Sanaa at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, asks us to write about love using a common everyday image. And I just love candles. I light them up at home as often as possible, even if just to watch them burn, whilst my mind drifts off towards a perfect world and where I can dream up stories with happy endings!