I heard him stepping out and slipping in,
the bloody ghost of my past…
intruding my life over and over again
and I feel used,




I heard him stepping out and slipping in,
laying down his burdens on my shoulder
as if I am a bin meant for the trash
but I felt lighter

when at last…

this time he listens to my plea…
to let me NOT live in his shadow
and create my own footsteps!


I’ve got tattoos painted by the needles of experience;

some slowly fade away to become part of the vast universe of my skin…

and sometimes, I look at my body and wonder

how many lives have you lived

to arrive to this?—

this strong woman still standing

after the hurricane. 

The Lost Queen

Who is this woman, crowned in green?
Crying blue, tears unseen…
I want to hug her on her throne
~desolute and worn.

You cannot judge her with her smile
Seductive, beguiling for a while
But when you linger, you’ll see
She’s just as damaged as you and me.

Who is this woman, catching eyes
Painting her bland life with sweet lies
She woes the angels with her songs
Looking for a place where she belongs

If you meet her, please bring her home
If you know her, kindly remind her,
for she doesn’t know who she is.