I went upstairs and looked at the moon,
wondering if you are looking at it too,
I asked old moon to deliver a message,
that I live each day waiting for you,

Right things comes at the right time,
the moon is patient and so am I,
and when the stars finally align,
I know we will meet eye to eye,

Make love to me with a touch of grace,
hold me tight and caress my face,
but until that day we are together,
I ask the moon to keep you safe.


A letter to my love.

Dear Love,

It is ok that you picked her over me. Who wouldn’t pick a rose over a wildflower?

A rose is beautiful. Poets, philosopher and lovers are hooked over its magnificence. Even gods stare at it. The scent is celebrated and the color is worshiped.

But darling despite the beauty, you crush the rose when you pluck it. A rose hurts you with her thorns. Rose is vulnerable. Rose is dependent. Rose craves attention. Rose craves love. It is withered by storms and the wind carries it away unlike the ungroomed wildflower.

The messy wildflower stands still. Patient, strong and unwithered .It blossoms, spreads and grows without any attention. No man can crush it, and it will hurt no man. A wildflower is undemanding, independent and unbothered.

But I get it you picked her over me. Who wouldn’t pick a rose over a wildflower?




Cheers to all the girls!

Who fell for words

fell for guys that had the sweetest things to say

Cheers to all the girls!

who believed him when he said that he cared about you

Cheers to all the girls!

Who gave themselves to this guy,

Their safe place, their home

Who became a monster after he was done

Cheers to all the girls!

Who let a fuckboy take a part of them,

Cheers to all the girls!

Who survived the rumors that motherfucker spread,

Cheers to all the sluts,

Who hoped that he would be dead.

And now,

He is dead.