Most of the time, I feel like walking on my dress at the side of the road,
but sometimes I am here writing in my notebook.
I feel like frolicking on the meadows and be captivated by the thorns of the rose.
But I am here sitting on an old sofa with the static television,
I feel like being kissed on late afternoons,
But I am here, drinking cold water on cold nights,
I feel like speaking about the great wonders of the universe.
But I am here, disgusted by the bitter world.
Sometimes, it is most of the time but the saddening part of all of it.
Is longing to my most of the time while being stuck in sometimes,
Sometime.
Apr 24, 2021
Apr 24, 2021 at 2:20 AM UTC
i keep finding myself from the poetry of the dead writers.
Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 10:40 AM UTC
We meander in the noise, finding our serenity. Both reckless and careful, you led me to wondrous blue. Sincerity flashed upon me. In that moment, I am warmth and safe. Solace and grateful were carved. I am flushed and you are calmed. We stay and tell legends. You are music from waves and I am shell, keeping every drop of tune. The sun kissed the sea; an alluring scenery. Your eyes sings and my heart listen. We are all over the clouds but neither crumpled nor tangled. The sun falls. The beat proliferates. The moments will echo . We wander the big forest like it’s a castle, wrapping ourselves with what we have, not thinking about tomorrow. We are fast cars and electric currents, alive, alive. We are running, crossing and skipping. Traced every outline, roamed every cold ground.
Tomorrow we will be just bodies passing by, but I’ll still live in the sensation of our souls colliding.
This is how I will remember us, in black playing with colorful poetry.
May 22, 2020
May 22, 2020 at 8:29 AM UTC
We are in this delicate situation. Words can’t be uttered. Eyes can’t meet. And hearts can’t be followed. The world depresses us. I have no choice but to push and push you away, but how, when those mesmerizing eyes caress my soul like it’s the most fragile thing in the world. But I won’t say a word, I can’t. I value you that much that I don’t want to put you in difficulty.
So I will let this be
I won’t say a word.
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 11:24 AM UTC
It’s different. When you have attached your soul to someone, it’s not their feature that gets you. It’s their essence. The words that come from their heart and the instant connection when you open up bare and truthful and they look at you like you were the most beautiful thing they ever witness.
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 9:36 AM UTC
I torture myself as I listen to a song serenading you; to come to me
the scent of the warm light
guiding you; to come to me
slivers of every hue, I reminisce
helping you; to come to me
the intensity of the colors we made
telling you; to come to me
it's the second season and yet -
the dried leaves are my only company
for you are not with me
- I’ll give the stars just to feel again, how you made me feel when we are in each other’s summer and wishing each other will stay till winter.
Oct 27, 2019
Oct 27, 2019 at 12:06 PM UTC
Every summer’s dawn, I bloom through the twinkle of the night. Every minute, I became less alone for they come and come and little by little I dissolve through a field of me. From east to west, is a mirror of my features. my significance is nowhere to be found. I am blended in mosaic and the sky is my only escape. Why am I made of them? why are they made of me? from colors to shapes, how can someone identify me? here it comes! the majestic hour. the sun has completely surrendered herself to the sea. The palette of colors they made is my favorite frame. I shivered as I feel the whistle of nature. I can see the scenery, clearly. What is this? I can feel warmth and security. the intensity of touch, I am feeling it. he holds on to me. someone hold on to me. I am bewildered by his grip until his precious hold has composed a lullaby to me.
I was a construct of nature. I am filled with the winds and waves of my desire and the light of every piece I see. I’ve known my worth from his fingertips. Every memory sips my pigment and moist. I am love till I dry. I am kept until I perish.
I am a flower carrying every ounce of untold sentiments he has, surrounded by phrases that nourish his soul.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 12:13 AM UTC
the darkness makes it more sentimental
the warm light of a lamppost
It is a mystery
how it provides me feelings
as the lamppost shimmer through,
I’m here
looking at love
a tragic magical tale
people adore it
people despise it
me?
I am dissolving through it
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 12:30 PM UTC
a scrap of our poetry is hanging
on the line that we've drawn
scraps of our poetry, playing in
the space between
scraps of our poetry
little by little dissolve to void
scraps of our poetry
hurt and heal my heart.
scraps of us, I throw and keep
to and fro
till its wholeness is here
you, with me.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 6:57 AM UTC
the stars above and below
are one of the parts of you
that you’ve given to me
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 10:02 AM UTC