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My Mother is a Star

Life, Poetry, Prose

My mother is a falling star. Leaving all that is golden about her in her trail until she is nothing but blackness, or maybe a grey rock that crashes through my window and into my loft. Bleeding out all her glitter on the way down to rock hard ground. Going from something I always imagined to be a warm glow to something harder, more weathered. More enduring.

My mother was a star. She was the bubbling youth, all the freshness of spring and attractiveness of summer moulded into a human being.

My mother is a fallen star. A rock in the back of my loft. But I will always know that it’s a meteor. And that meteor will tell tales of life in the sky, and it will become a star again.

My mother is a star. It is not the iron in her blood, the calcium in her bones, the magnesium in her cells, or the zinc in her nails (’cause these, too, make up a star); but my mother is a star because love makes her shine. She is the star whose face I seek when I close my eyes, the star which keeps my dreams alive. She is the bright light in my dark sky, night after night after night, whose wrinkles and worn hands say that she’d made a light out of a life and a life out of an existence.



Yesterday, I was inspired to write this. Yesterday, I had something beautiful to say. Yesterday, I waxed poetic.

I was a prophetic genius.

Today, I am trying to be who I was yesterday. I am holding on to some vague idea that I had for a minute or two, and I am trying to express it in a phrase that I can understand again.

So now I’m sitting here willing words to flow from my fingers, as prose needs just a chain of thought—free flowing, masses of ideas pouring over the grounds, but instead, I have nothing.

Rose Petals and Mint

Love, Poetry

Delicate pecks. Smile. Giggle. Silence, take a breath. She brushes colors across his lips. Wet and warm. Tastes like mint. Fiddle fingers across ink and paper. Thoughts are washed aside. Breaths mingled, hands encircling, fingers running down the spine. Pause he said. Shudders and quivers and chills and thrills. Look each other in the eyes. Ablaze, like summer nights. Silence, take a breath. Spread apart the folds of the muffler. Ready?

Painting and stroking to the core. The tic. The toc. The very moment. Visions turn grey, that momentary flame. The jolt, the surge. It’s captivity and vulnerability. He runs his fingers through her hair. He catches a whiff. Rose petals. The touches are poisoning sanity. Daze. Befuddled. Amidst the pulsating heat. He holds his breath for a moment while he pictures it. Panting and holding close in sweat. Fed ’til being starved was a memory long forgotten. Brushing her hair aside, he held her tight. Trails of soft kisses. She shows her sweetest smile.

Euphony he says. She kisses goodnight and fell asleep.
The air still filled with rose petals and mint.



When I was a kid I asked,
“How are babies made?”
My mom responded,
“Go back to your room.”
I asked why but all I got
Was a make-face.
When I was in grade school I asked,
“Is there something wrong with me?”
My big brother-cousin responded,
“Yeah. Put powder on your face.”
I asked why.
He laughed and said,
“You’re a girl that’s why.”
When I was in high school I asked,
“Why do girls have boyfriends?”
My friends responded,
“Because of love.”
I asked why.
Uncomfortably they said,
“No why’s. That’s love.”
When I was in college I asked,
“Why should we save money?”
My mom responded,
“In case of emergency.”
I asked why.
She was dismayed and said,
“Don’t ask me again.”
Now I ask,
“How do I look?”
“How do you gain trust?”
“How can I be confident enough?”
Nobody responded.
I faced the mirror,
But all I got was a make-face.

Never More Than Once

Love, Poetry

In the most peculiar occurrence I found you,
Ask thrice, have a cup of coffee with me?
Smiled like two halves of a book crashing open.
Ask me twice have a drink with me?
Ask four times if the risk is worth the reward
Ask five times how you see it all panning out
Ask for a kiss when you deserve it least
Just this once, or maybe two more times than that.
Ask three times less for an apology.
Wait for your broken heart to heal from all the inconsistencies.
In front of the mirror, Ask six times does this look right?
Ask seven times if we can do it, survive the odds?
Something lucky about the number seven you said
And so I never asked again.
Jumping hurdles over controversies
Ask twice if we can pay the bills.
Ask three times if you mean it.
Ask four times what do you want out of this life?
With me by your side?
But never more than once. Can you love me?
Never more than once. Say you love me.
Never more than once. Marry me?
Never ask for it more than once. Do you love me? —
Yes, a hundred more times than that.


Cogitations, Love, Poetry

Tracing back in time
when there was only silence
and the two of us

I put myself thither
I realize what a sweet sound ‘t was

Probably the sweetest silence
one will ever hear in his life

I Love You:

Love, Poetry, Prose

You don’t know how deep those words are for me. I rarely say that phrase, but for you I’m making an exception.

I love you and I’m striving to be perfect for you.
I love you and I want you to trust me when I tell you I do.
I love you and I will always trust you when you tell me you do, too.
I love you and I will be your warm blanket when nights grow long and cold.
I love you and I will choose to stay asleep with you.
I love you and I will learn to cook well for you.
I love you and I will never do things I know will upset you.
I love you and I will make a new memory with you each day.
I love you and I will never demand for anything more than what you can give.
I love you and I will do more than what I promise to.
I love you even if I don’t know all there is to know about you.
I love you even if sometimes I fail you.
I love you even if sometimes you fail me.
I love you even though I know I could lose you.
I love you and I wish I could have more chances to show you how much I do.
I love you but I will never smother you simply because I respect your freedom.
I love you more than I want you to know.
I just love you. That’s all I know, and that’s all I can tell.

And probably that’s what will keep me going. ❤️