Of Nerds and Book Worms

There was something about the way she had her nose buried in a book. In the way her overly large spectacles kept slipping. In the way freckles lightly dusted her cheek bones and forehead. In the way her hair fell on the sides of her face like velvet curtains.

There was something in the way she licked her index finger to turn the page. In the way her lips were slightly parted in awe. In the way there was a child-like innocence in her eyes. In the way she was in another world.

Surely it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault that she loved books more than she loved people.



My dearly beloved,

If I die today, will you sow rose seeds on my grave and water them with your tears? And when they bloom, will you forever keep the dry petals in the locket I gave you on your birthday?That way I can be with you forever.

Is this not what they call love? 

Shooting Star

I saw a shooting star last night. Without hesitation I wished you’d love me forever. I guess not all wishes come true, and we waste wishes on those who don’t deserve them.

I bet the stars frowned down upon me last night, thinking, “Ah, she’s no naive. No one can love her forever but us.” I guess they were right.


“Close your eyes.”, he said.

“Can you see them? Can you see the stars as they beckon for you to follow? Can you hear them sing beautiful melodies as they try to lull you to sleep? Do you recognise the song? I bet you do.

“Can you feel them? Can you feel the stars beneath your skin as they flow through your veins? Can you taste them in your mouth? Can you feel them in your fingertips? Can you feel the galaxies in your heart?”

“Open your eyes.” he said.

“Now tell me. Do you still love me more than you love the stars? More than you love the moon? More than you love the night sky?”

“But you’re my night sky.” I said. “You’re my stars. You’re my moon. So no. I don’t love you more than I love these things, because you and them are one and the same. You’re my galaxies. You’re my everything.”


Honey, don’t be shy. Don’t look down at your feet. Don’t fumble with the buttons on your jacket. Don’t clasp and unclasp your hands. Don’t fidget. Don’t let the blush creep up your cheeks.

Look into my eyes. Let me undress your mind. Show me your soul. Show me the ambers that burn within. Show me who you really are. Bare your flaws to me. Forget about the world. Forget about it all. It’s just you and I.

Honey, let me undress your mind. Show me your thoughts. Show me your dreams. Show me your fears. Show me you. Show me who you want me to be. Show me what you wish we could be. Let me undress your mind. Let me undress you.


His name was Wilde. And yes. It means exactly what you think it does. To others he was just an average boy, but to me he was everything.

He was the kind of boy Momma used to warn me about. The kind with the dark eyes that stared into your soul. The kind who always lingered everywhere with a cigarette in hand. The kind with the unkempt hair and carefree laugh, with the attractive smirk and teeth that always sunk into pink lips.

The kind that didn’t have to ask you to do anything, but you’d already do it because you wanted to make him happy. The kind that always held you in his arms, not so show off or try to be possessive but simply because he liked feeling you close to him.

The kind that believed in everything. In aliens, in God, in life after death, in love. The kind that rarely got angry and would never, in this life or the next, hit a woman. The kind that never judged anyone. The kind that believed in Human Rights. The kind that understood that we were all different.

He was the kind of boy that you’d easily fall in love with. The kind I craved. The kind I would drink alcohol for. The kind I would snort cocaine off of a bar counter for. The kind I’d lose my dignity for. My innocence… Myself…

But you see… The thing with Wilde is that he never wanted me to change. I was the silence to his chaos. And that was enough for the both of us.

His name was Wilde…


Some days I simply miss you.

Other days… when the clouds are grey and the sun is out of sight… When I look up at the night sky and there are no stars twinkling in the dark… When the wind howls so violently, mourning for its lost love… when the world is crazy and there is too much noise… When tears fall from my eyes when I’m all alone… 

Those days I miss you terribly.

I cling onto the memory of you holding me in your arms. It’s safe in your arms. The world is quiet. The wind is calm. The moon is shining. The stars are plenty. And you smell like the wet earth after so much rain.

My world is an insane place but it’s so much better with you in it. So please stay with me. Please hold me. Please make it all go away. Make me happy. Keep me safe.

Don’t Forget About Me

Memories are queer little things.

I can still feel your lips on my skin. I can still see your eyes staring at me. I can still hear your laughter resonating through my ears. I can still feel my heart pounding beneath my chest, beating faster than it normally does simply because you’re seated across from me. I can still feel myself smiling as I listen to your chatter. I can still sense your scent wafting into my nostrils. I can still feel myself fighting the urge to reach out and touch your face, to touch your hand… I can still feel myself getting lost in your arms. “Hold me forever.” still lingers on my tongue.

But I’m slowly forgetting and you’re slowly fading.

I don’t want to forget you.

Crazy and The Poet

We sat in front of the fireplace huddled beneath a blanket with your arms wrapped tightly around me and a bottle of moët in my hand. The fire crackled and the wind whistled melodies through the open window. You reeked of old books and stale cigarettes, and I of hospitals and prescription drugs. Neither of us said a word because we were complete in our silence and we were content with who we were. “Crazy and The Poet” they called us, simply because we were broken but at least we had each other.