i know that the stars are dead
right when its light reaches our eyes
but they feel alive as I am right now
here as I lay with you on this field
this night infused with only our breaths
and only with our silence
they make a sound.
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 3:17 AM UTC
the stench of cigarette, it lingers
and it suffocates me.
it heightens my senses, haunting
deliberating the nights i often weep.
and i'm scared of my hands
when they try to hold, what they hold
because they say
"fill it up'
whatever is lacking, whatever is not there
no one is excused to try
and it scares me even more
when you can never be the same person
when you can never be complete.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
He tried to paint the world with words
coated hue-
misery, sweet and bitter.
Novels of leaves tumbling from
old oaks and Christmas trees.
Canvas of dead songs written of poets from
East to West bays
*His hands were wrapped with metaphors
of sun and moon
I could no longer see the lingering
truth behind all the ironies*
When can I sit his side without being told naive
To love without building an old story
His world, his eyes, his words
how do you bond such gold?
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC
It ***** to be a realist. To know that the world can be terrible and at the same time be filled with the possibilities of the wonderful. And then there's you, the poor realist, who somehow has all this truth and hope and idea of everything black and white, good or bad. So you build up this fear inside you, this pain that everything can go either ways of opposing extremes and there's nothing you can do about it except go on and live with both sides.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
Her tune craves for him to sing
with her
not at her.
When he holds her in his hands
she comes alive. His love is
made known in the motions he makes.
Actions speak louder than words.
How beautiful it was that strumming
came easier than speaking.
She wants to be learned but not many
people have time for her complex
tendencies.
And she wants to be heard but
they have all forgotten how to
listen with their eyes.
I reached out and touched
her vibrations as he played.
I cried because I understand.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
i limit my friends to a circle of nine
but in front of everybody else
i count to ten
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
your hurt and cruelty
has been etched on my skin;
a message, a sign
that may never disappear.
you tried to cover them up
with false hope and glitter,
hoping that no one
will ask me about them.
and they never did.
you did a good job,
hiding your sins.
but you and i both know
no matter how much we smile,
no matter how much you sing
sweet, honey-coated serenades,
i will never forget.
scars will be scars,
and hurt will be hurt,
but i will never let you tear away my strength anymore.
i have finally changed the lock.
i have taken away your key.
i whispered to my spirit.
(and to a few of my fellow gods),
telling them to guard me
from the poison of your touch.
don't worry, sweetheart.
you won't be missed.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
i used to think
that words
are the easiest to deliver
i could say i love you
without even knowing why
i could say the truth
without even thinking if it really is
now all of it is as difficult
as I was to believe in fairy tale
now all i could think about
is how will i ever say those words
without affecting the world
without hurting someone
without doubting myself
I remained silent
and those words i wanted to say
left unspoken- shallow
i used to think
that words
are the easiest to deliver
now they're far beyond my reach
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC