coffee stains

smudges

i don't know
just let me write-
write something, anything
to get rid of the thoughts bugging
but
my words seem to slur
every time i ink the words down
to rub them off my head
and the color of the paper
only then stayed white

the letters, the syllables, the ink-
turned blue.
i have long ago refused to use this color
in pens, in writing
but they have seem to mock me
of this foolishness i couldn't see
where my vision of stars
may have disappeared
into the hollow darkness
of galaxies.

i have turned the mirrors around
but now i'm facing one
where i espy
a mess of blurs, shattered
splotches of yesterday
and ghosts who wouldn't just go away
reflected the swarming emotions
on the eyes of this reflection
shaded red, flame hot burning
but with the absence of tears, no crying

the girl in the mirror appeared to have feed it
to the shadows wrapping their arms around her waist-
deceiving,
deceiving her
of thoughts they want to unfurl.
typhoons and flood and rain
have passed her home
with strong hurricanes.
frowning,
the mirror imitating-

is there even a home
when she lives inside
the pseudo skin of her own
when this girl in front
seems like a party-a party of her own
in which she herself is the unwanted guest
hiding, cowering
and shutting, suppressing her voice
because they left her
with no choice.