Yesterday I Was the Moon

yesterday — i was the moon today — just an eclipse something in me travels; some days it’s to the dark some days it’s to the light

in pieces yet at peace i am a building in a post war city

i want stars, strength, and balance in my soul it's been a while since they were last together in me

like the anger of fire shapes metal like the sorrow of a writer creates poetry everything that is beautiful doesn't always start beautifully

the kind people are running this world they don't know how their one little smile has saved many lives

i share a legacy with the sky we both know how to carry some unanswered prayers and some unshed tears {the sky & i}

nothing teaches better than this trio the fears, the tears, the years

isn't it breathtakingly beautiful how you've learned to grow flowers from the memories that died a long time ago

people leave because unlike matter that has firm, solid, strong molecules people are made up of air, fire, earth and water that change shapes that keep moving that cannot stop and let them be the things they want the shapes they like because in the end you too will grow into something entirely new so let them go

you’re the moon and the world is a lonely wolf; it cries at the sight of you for you are glorious and so out of reach

i carry the stories the sadness the victories of people before me i'm both a monument and a future skyscraper rising from the same skeleton

Everything that is beautiful doesn't always start beautifully.

the most beautiful thing in this world isn’t made up of particles. it’s the strength of a person who has seen the collapse of their world, everything they held dear crashing down in a million pieces. yet every morning, they wake up and build their life, all over again. mourning their loss in a tranquil silence. i haven’t yet seen anything more astonishingly beautiful.

you remind me of my favorite metropolis sparkling, loud yet hauntingly sad when the light goes out

Dreams live as long as the dreamers do.

I am fighting my losses, my trauma, and everything bringing ache because I don't want to look in the mirror and see a tragedy staring back.

You existence reminded me of sunsets and ocean waves yet you still wonder what it took for me to fall for someone like you

do not worry about people they're wearing the same flesh breathing the same chemicals walking on the same solid earth as you so why should it matter when you are them and they are you

The universe is a brilliant writer,
 it wrote your name
in my stars
 before any of us existed
 so when the time comes
 they’ll light up your path
 and lead you straight to me.

I want to travel to be away from home so that I can return, loving it as much as it deserves to be loved. I want to go away from home just for returning back here to realize everything I have ever neglected is worth loving and worrying for.

Nothing teaches better than this trio the fears, the tears, the years.

Be kind for this is something a lot of people can never be.

the price of leaving is everything you do not return to a place but to a memory; soundless a home becomes another house a face becomes another name a city becomes another geographical location when you leave

the sunset looked way too pigmented—as if the color palette of sorrow had been thrown on it. yes, if sorrow had colors, they would be lilac mixed with pinks and some sneaky whites like the clouds at twilight. i thought it was a masterpiece; a way for nature to share that at the end of the day, each sobbed whisper goes directly to the skies. but before that, it leaves its color on the canvas of earth one last time.

i am too afraid of people who have souls like hometowns warm, forgiving and too kind that even if you leave; even when you leave will always welcome you home remember you with your family name i am too afraid of something too homely when every breath coming out of my body is shaped like leaving

Words; they are powerlessly powerful so use yours well.

You'll have to learn the art of losing, choosing, and refusing to win what we call the game of life.

i can fix a lot of things but cannot mend a broken heart for it is too fragile and fixing it is another art but i hope to learn it soon as i see mine getting torn before it breaks into a million pieces and i am left to fix it all alone

the idea of destruction keeps running through my veins like blood yet my bones hold the will to create everyday blood and bones in me clash to create something; to destroy something

freedom is really expensive and no one will wrap it in a fancy paper to leave at your doorstep. you will have to buy it with the currency of blood, sweat and struggle. it doesn’t twinkle like sparkly things. it is often shaped like bruised knees and mourning skin. but what makes it too precious is the fact that a lot of currencies will never be strong enough to bid for it. this is where it becomes insanely priceless.