one—

for a day filled with extremes
happiness to sorrow
sorrow to contentment
and eventually,
exhaustion.

two—

for hidden stories
locked in for years
triggered open by loneliness,
kept in again before dawn

three—

to evaporate unseen tears,
burn out unreleased emotions,
while watching the embers glow
and fall slowly onto moist concrete.

the wind blows strong
little by little, leaves fall

i look around
as they surround me,
lifeless they may be
but to me, they bring folly

in my mind, i wonder
how do they know
when to let go of the tree?

we are all little birds
stuck in a cage.
begging for release,
waiting for our songs
to be sung.

through failed speech,
i’ve made words bloom
from seeds to leaves

as they wilt slowly,
i realized that i haven’t
sowed what i planted,
and i haven’t stopped
to smell the flowers—

if i fail to decipher
what is hidden within the veins
of each petal, what would happen
if it wilts?

would life end
with me not knowing
the reason behind morning dew?

pull my strings
when i’m not under pressure
do i make a sound?
or do i break loose?
i don’t know
*i just don’t know.

you wrote me letters on leaves,
i wrote mine on paper
both of the same origins,
of the same tree

as you wrote,
the leaves fell slowly
and wilted
while i kept mine
hidden between books

i’ve kept your love
from the start,
while yours decayed
and left to rot.

we entrust our hearts
to someone who we think
could keep it

but instead they leave fingerprints
and even I don’t know
who owns this mound of flesh
they call a heart—

it has lost its identity.