These nights are meant
to be spent sitting on a balcony
overlooking the city and
its lights splattered across the
darkness.
But I will gladly pass it away,
over and over again,
to the next random person by the street,
for the sake of all madness that there is,
Until the rain decides to fall again
Until we meet again
or not meet again.
Until your laughter ceases to define
the kind of person I want to be
or dictate how long
I should avoid growing weary.
Until there is not much left of your ghost
To be found, though there will always
be more than enough
to be remembered.
You said some love we just don’t deserve.
I believe you.
I will always believe you.
But how long are we to endure,
how long are we to risk all that we have
for the kind of love
that doesnt deserve us?
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 2:20 PM UTC
You wont find me
When the day breaks apart into pieces and
When the sea turned to the darkest of the blue
You wont find me
Not in places that I used to be
Not in places I am meant to be
But I think you will remember me
Or recognize me from the void
Or realize that there is not much of me left to be found but there is enough of me to be remembered
But know, that I will remember you
I will keep you alive in the tiny universe inside me
I will reminisce about your every single detail like a promise
I will always remember you
When I am sitting in that rocking chair overlooking the life I have lived,
I will remember you,
Like the first time I felt my heart beating
Like the last time I spoke the truth to someone
I will remember you
Like my first and last kiss
I will remember you
Like my first heartbreak
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 6:31 AM UTC
Unwittingly,
we all just wanted to be loved.
From our births
to the moment we become one of the antiques,
one thing will remain amidst our constantly changing nature- and that is our want to love and to be loved in return.
It may have been the fault of the romantics for engraving the idea of love into the air,
or it maybe an inherent bone of our very nature, or perhaps an idea bestowed from the womb of our mothers.
Some have forgotten, or at least claim to have forgotten, love.
Little do they know that it exists right at the core of our reason and sometimes it thrives within our passions and dreams.
Some have the ability to see it with their naked eyes.
Some claim it lives through the warmth of another person.
Some believe it sits on the grave of another. Some use it as their shadow and yes, recognize it as demons too.
It’s everywhere, for sure.
But most, if not all, still crave for it.
Most claimed to have been failed by it.
There seem to be an overwhelming absence of love in the very universe that made it.
Why is that so?
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
Seldom will you ever find a friend who will sit with you in your silence, one who may or may not understand but still- he or she, will sit with you in your silence.
As if the world has sum itself up into a second of a minute where all being has forgotten what it means to speak; as if all that every one knows is to listen
To the silence.
As if words have set themselves free of all of us human beings; that we have become strangers to them- words.
Silence.
Seldom will you ever find silence as you sit with a friend. Seldom may a friend understand.
But too often, silence who is a stranger to the words, listens. And my God, how it understands.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 12:59 PM UTC
Almost. Almost there, but never quite reaching the destination. Almost alive, but never truly existing. Almost here, but an inch too far.
Too much. Too alive that he missed the part that says- part of living is dying, half of happiness is misery.
There is no such thing as "top" without a dip to dive in somewhere around it.
And searching for that pleasant intersection between "almost" and "too much" is how one clothes the entire sky with missing the point of this life.
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 12:48 PM UTC
I look at the dark sky,
tonight,
convinced,
I think,
that the stars
are gazing
right back
at me.
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
Of all the things you want to discover in this lifetime, dont forget to include yourself. Find yourself and once you do, introduce him to all of your doubts, to all the person you thought you were, to all of the world. Find yourself, so well, that when death comes rushing through your door, it shall wonder why even in your deathbed you are more incredibly alive and radically whole than the day you were born.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 12:25 PM UTC
That our first love
will always be
our earliest
encounter with heartache
and this will rightfully claim
familiarity within us;
something about it will somehow keep those days alive- long after moving on.”
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
Busy people rarely ever feel sad. Why? Because sadness requires a certain depth of epiphany, a subtle but constant blow in the gut. You can never find sadness lurking in the corners of a busy office or in a library full of curious young minds.
Sadness, I think, is when the world has momentarily left its orbit to embark on a dim lit path. It is there when the day is over and the lights are out and you are left sitting in the dark feeling every bit of human. It is when you'd rather stay in for the rest of the night- and day, as well -because frankly, you have forgotten the difference.
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 10:37 AM UTC
Some days I am sure you make the sky a little bluer.
Some days I know you are part of the rain.
Some days I am convinced that if the sun will shine a little bit more, I will feel your warmth all over my bones.
Some days I believe you have become yet another color to complete the broken pieces of my rainbow.
Some days I live to see you become the missing depth of the sea. Even though our feet no longer walk on the same earth and even our eyes do not look at the same skies, you will remain here, with me, along with everything I know that is true, along with everything this world has learned about you.
This time, I would gladly keep my heart broken if it is the only way to keep a piece of it, with you, there in the heavens.
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 6:55 PM UTC