I feel as close to you as how wind is to my skin,
I feel as powerful with you as how I am with a gun.
I feel as courageous next to you as how sky divers are with working parachutes.
I feel as sad without you as departing rain drops from dark hovering clouds.
I feel as bored dismissing you as a good book read by a blind man.
I feel as far from you as how the visible sun is if you look from Earth.
I feel as clouded missing you as the moon is clouded by nebulae.
I feel as dejected promising you as government cronies over promising development.
I feel as lonely not seeing you as Golden Retrievers are when their masters are not around.
I feel as blatantly bloated next to you as over-heated air balloons raise up the shiny sky.
I feel as speechless around you as unprepared speakers in a conference hall.
And at the end, I feel as close to you as how my eyes met yours then cheekily, we detached our sight and pretend that we were never close at all.
I feel close to you still
but even closer
By Arcassin B
Do Take One Look At yourself,
dont be jealous , you need help,
to the skies i use to yell,
i know you can smell the smell of it,
that i use to feel with you,
You were hoping i was willing,
And i was hoping too,
Come And Feel this feel With me,
Sit and watch the sky burn,
real hateful to my memories,
Baby now its your turn,
that i use to love with you,
For your heart , i did some healing,
dont judge me too,
I feel like you're fading away
and nobody'll see you again.
I'll never hear your deep voice.
I'll never hear you laugh.
I'll never hear or see you.
I feel like the angels are singing a sad song tonight
because i think i can hear them
and their voices bring me hope.
They make me feel like not everything is lost.
But sometimes i feel like it's not you that's fading,
I am the person who is being aloof.
The one that got away and threw all the memories
deep in my mind, hoping that i won't ever remember them.
But i do and i feel like i am being torn into pieces.
I miss you.
And i want you back.
the issue about emotions
is they cannot be turned off easily
i learned in psychology class
that there's this small part in your brain called the "amygdala" and it controls your emotions
i realized then and there
that i had to decide
"to feel everything all at once, or nothing at all"
I will explain one thing,
I will proclaim one thing,
and that is how I will
on you, and on your
tender, caring love.
I miss your eyes,
How I like to see inside you
through those dark brown eyes.
I miss your lips,
How it would crack suddenly,
and out comes the lip gloss,
I miss your hands on mine,
and how it feels like when
you rest them on my palms.
I miss how we can sit and
and still feel connected like
strings and wires.
I miss your voice that hums
the sweetest melodies,
even when you are not singing.
It can continue its playback
as I layback while I
enjoy your presence.
With you now not here,
I am now not near
anything that is perfect,
You have left me speechless,
and with you gone,
you have made me dreamless.
I miss living in our reality.
Our reality that consists of
real and true fantasies
that only you and I understand,
that only you
I long for you, and no shyness
of any level could stop
me from professing it now.
I miss you, and
because when you are dreaming
while sleeping, and
my hands are not behind your head
that I wish my hand be amputated,
and be carried to you,
on a kite, in the wind,
over the Straits.
So come home soon.
You are starting to feel like one.
My muse disappears every fortnightly,
Together it depart with the Queen o’ diamonds
- My Queen o’ diamonds.
I dropped a pen at the struck of midnight,
The sound pierced through the stillness of the hour.
I heard a whisper,
Unsure of its origination.
Stillness that night was an obvious chaos,
A virtuous solitude but
an absolute peril.
Solitary is a joke.
Through the midnight darkness I saw a painting,
Canvas like no other,
Picture so picturesque it impressed baboons
and baffled armed legions.
I walked toward it blind,
Until I saw it glimmer from four steps away.
I closed up near.
I stood for days, mystified by such heroic art.
I did not bathe myself,
did not give in to social delights.
So I do what all poets do best – I confessed...
“I adore a canvas of the Queen o’ hearts!”
- at least My Queen o’ hearts.