enough time.

There was nothing left
but memories
scattered everywhere
of the empty space between fingers
and the lack of hearts
traced on foggy mirrors

I should have known
that our expiry date would come
Maybe I could have delayed it.
better I feel this hurt now
than when it’s too late to
forgive and forget.

– LunaTheInksane


To Whomever It May Concern,

I am Alice. I am dying and I am sixteen years young.

Dear Young
At least I get to die being you.

Dear Death
You inching closer makes me nervous. Embrace me already! I hear there’s liberty in you.

Dear Liberty
I lost you the day Hope flew away.

Dear Hope
Stop breeding Misery, wherever you are.

Dear Misery
You are me and I am you. Two faces of the same person.

Dear Faces
You can stop the pretending now.

Dear Pretending
You’re my other me. Looks like a bad case of split personality. Isn’t that good?

Dear Good
I wish you mattered in this world.

Dear World
I wish I did something for you to remember me by.

Dear Me
Hello again.
Seems like I lost you somewhere between keeping you alive.
Dear Hello


– LunaTheInksane
This style of writing was developed by Jennifer-Leigh Oprihory


I’m seams

We were:
Lies of kisses
Rumours of love

I was:
In love with the idea of falling in love

The world was: looking through kaleidoscopes
looking at how I was the same language as you
Unaware of the anagram I created to fit right in


Words are so overused

I’ve realised
my deconstructed anagrams are nothing but

jmubeld letters

– LunaTheInksane
Luna is the most beautiful young poet I’ve seen.
I confess, I’ve been in love with her ever since I first read her poetry. She’s going to stick around for a while and keep enchanting you guys.

PS. Admit it, her nom de plume is awesome


The Tigress’ Cub

A tigress groomed her lone cub such
That it grow to be a mighty heir
A tigress groomed her lone cub such
That no other shall ever compare.

The cub had been painstakingly taught to walk
Before he’d known how to see
The cub had been taught to hunt and kill
And so unquestioningly did he.

The tigress grew older and firmer and prouder
Who could hope to match her son?
After all, she thought, I have groomed him so well
And faults in him are none.

He is, she said, reflecting now,
A spitting image of me-
But of course not, he is better than I was
He is both, what I am, and what I never could be.

But the day did come, like it always does
When the youth, is young, and its spirits are high
That the cub, so loving, and so loved,
Did choose his mother to defy.

Of all people! My! How could he have known
The tigress’ unadulterated rage
With a simmering wrath such as never before
A war with him she did wage.

But, thought the cub, as he tried in vain
To parry his mother’s blows
Against her he did not wish to fight
It was a simple of a differing life ideology.

A creative streak he did possess
But he did not choose how to wield it
For he knew, his choice
Would invariably be wrong.

And so, as dictated, he did conform and progress
With life, with family, with friends.
But sometimes, he thought, he might regret
The choice he desired and did not defend.

– Opal

Opal is a friend and a guest author. Her poem reminded us of Miles’ favourite quote,

“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting”
– E.E.Cummings