With his eyes fixated on me; he strokes his chin and I’m unable to read his facial expression.

what?” I finally ask, without trying to sound impolite.

“it’s just…” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words to say.

“you don’t strike me as a woman who likes poetry”

I take a deep breath and reply.. 

“be careful of judging a book by its cover – you might just miss one hell of a story

The Heart Speaks

Sometimes, all too often, things I’ve long suppressed find a way of crawling into my heart. The only way I know how to soothe the aching is to write about it. 

you’re too emotional” they say when I splatter my feelings on paper.

My greatest lesson in life was mastering how to be true to myself in a world where everyone was trying to tell me who I am and should be. 

And then there are times when fear sneaks into my heart, telling me that I will never find someone to love me.

good things come to those who wait” I reassure myself 

So I’m in no rush to fall in love with the wrong person, because I believe the one who is meant to cross my path will do so, effortlessly

Until then, I’ll continue spilling my deepest, darkest secrets of love into my poetry. 


And although disappointment has stained my face, I know that one day his eyes won’t awaken the feelings I have inside. I know that his voice will no longer be my favourite song. I know that I will no longer feel his hands on my thighs. And I’ll forget how I pictured his lips tracing down my neck. I won’t be moved by the rememberance of the softness of his mouth pressed against mine. My heart will be freed from the thought of him being my forever. And I know that one day I will look him dead in his face and no longer will I feel a thing.

Let Them Go

“please” I pleaded with him

“please don’t walk away from me” 

I waited on his answer, but he stood there watching as tears poured down my cheeks. 

“say something.. please” I asked in the hope of him saying that I still meant something to him. 

“I can’t do this” was all I heard and the sound of his car speeding off into the black of the night. 

If time has taught me anything it’s that sometimes if someone wants to go, we should let them go. 


I looked at the man who I had fallen so deeply in love with and I tried to figure out what he was thinking, but before I could ask he kissed my lips.

Then, he ran his finger down my spine and his touch sent tons of electricity through my body as he whispered…

“I love you..”

“And I will love you even after every bone in your body has returned to dust.”

Fear & Love

Fear danced in the centre of his eyes every time I got too close to him. I stretched out my hand and rested it on his face. 

The moment our skin touched it was like the world had disappeared and our eyes never left each other. 

why?” I asked “why are you afraid of loving me?”

“I don’t fear loving you” he said 

And continued…

“I fear losing you, because already, I have fallen in love with you”


I have encountered great love, but I’ve also experienced great loss. It’s during these moments that we are transformed into beings that even we no longer recognize.

I’ve seen the sweetest honey turn bitter and how love has brought the toughest soul, onto the knees, begging to be loved in return. 

Then there’s us, the hopeless romantics and the dreamers who after every heartbreak and loss continue to love in the only way we know how. And still, with our hearts on our sleeves, we still hope to find the person to share our greatest gift with; our love.

The Pain 

And I made my heart promise to never fall in love again. It wasn’t because I was being selfish, or maybe I was, but I knew that if my heart broke one more time it would break my soul. One would think that after everything I’ve been through that I’d be used to the pain, but the pain never truly goes away, it just becomes bearable. It becomes so bearable that you can literally feel every second passing you by until you feel empty inside. You feel empty, but that pain still lingers inside and even though it’s buried in the corners of your heart, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still there. 

If I’m Being Honest 

There are parts about myself that I adore, like how I can look at broken people and my eyes can only capture glimpses of beauty. I find their flaws attractive and I find myself falling in love with the parts that they hate. I love the way acceptance of their flaws works like magic, because when you truly love their blemishes they start looking at themselves differently. I love how much love hides in the corners of my smile every time I think about how much I would love someone one day. My love will sink into his veins and it will become the blood that flows through his body. 

Have you thought about that kind of love that moves every part inside of you? It sways those parts to a 90’s beat that makes you believe that someone out there would do things for you that your mind can’t even fathom. The kind of love that makes your soul feel safe and whose heartbeat sounds like home. 

I haven’t given much thought to the physical appearance of the person I dream about falling for, because your eyes can never feel what your heart does. But if I were to think about that person and I mean really think. I would picture him with hands that are big enough to handle our future and soothe both of our pasts. I picture his heart to be strong enough to love me during the times that I doubted my worth. His arms would be my sanctuary and in them love would bloom every day of the year. 

But there are parts about myself that I hate, like when I question my worth as a woman and the things that make me feel undeserving of being with someone mystifying. I hate how I overthink and how my mind goes on these crazy expeditions and it always ends up in an era that doesn’t exist. I hate how my life was only ever filled with temporary people and how I feel the need to cover the parts of myself that make up who I am. I hide them so well, because I know how mind blowing moments only last long enough for you to take your next breath. I hate how I try to prove myself to people by unwrapping parts of myself that they don’t deserve to see, but most of all, I hate the fact that sometimes I forget to love myself.

The Stage 

My heart is like a stage and it lovingly welcomes everyone who passes by. It longs for an audience and it puts on a show for anyone who stays long enough to watch the opening act. 

My heart is transparent. There is no curtain to hide any mistakes or scars or wardrobe change. It fearlessly dances around like a star during the darkness of the night. It puts on one hell of a show. 

My heart is on exhibit. It’s free for anyone to hold and admire. From time to time it gets dropped, but somehow it still manages to shine. I’m surprised it hasn’t changed colour from all the times it’s been stepped on. 

And when the show is over and everyone has seen and touched all that they’ve wanted, my heart is left bruised

There is nobody who claps, or cheers or comes baring roses. I am left alone and I carefully place plasters over the scars of my heart.