It's a postscript
That is yet to be found
Written on the back of an old photo
Along the edge, succinctly.
Buried six feet under where I lie
And it grows as it dies
Wilting over time—
A slow demise that is much more painful
Than a quick stab in the heart.
It's a goodbye without a beginning,
And failing without even trying
To keep it is a choice,
To confess it is a risk.
And as long as I see those eyes...
Still sparkling for that someone,
This thing would remain hidden
Under a willow tree and weep along its branches
Until completely forgotten.
the clarity of his rejection
was muddled by my affection
which became an addiction
fueled by your fiction
Let me embrace you
And melt the glaciers in you with my warmth
Sing you songs I orchestrate with the birds and trees
Dance with you as humid wind blows
Cry a little as rain sprinkles
Smell the petrichor that lingers
While feeling the sun kissing your skin just like the first time
Draw hopscotch on pavement
And laugh 'cause it's awfully done
Hear the subtle waves crashing against your feet
Feel the soft sand
As you follow the shallow footprints on the shore by some strangers...
Let me sneak into your season
And I'd invite Spring to bloom daisies for you
Frostbites might take away my colors for a while
But I'd never regret losing hues if it would help you feel alive even once.
A letter from Summer
I'm but a scattered pigment
On the wall, on the ceiling, on the floor
I stained everything I touch or hold
Neither you nor them could easily get a grasp
'Cause I'll just slip through your fingers' gap
I'm but a messy art
A masterpiece by a frustrated god.
And when great souls die
Ocean hums plangent hymn as it mourns
Cold breeze gently carries their ashes
Like scattered stars in the sky
One with the wind
Until they find their peace just below the horizon
Together with the sun where it sets
Giving us colorful sky to remember as they leave
And at first light
The sun rises with a breath of their legacy and name
While heavens may still cry for a little while
We'll sing endless elegies with the waves and tenuous clouds at night
For their true grave is in our hearts,
They'll forever be remembered with great admiration attached.
I never intended this to be about you
But you fit every poem and prose that I write
My allegory lies within my gestures, stares, and smiles
And I hope you wouldn't read between the lines,
'Cause that would be the end and I'll pay the price.
For I'd rather be an empty letter in your word
Than be a sinner in their eyes.
On a pedestal, you stand
With angels beside you playing trumpet and lyre
They'll sing hallelujah
When you smile and open your arms
And I'd say your name
A thousand times like a prayer before I sleep
Sing psalms on Sundays
Like a devotee, lifting my hands as I weep
But you were a mere god,
Pinnacled upon an altar that I made.
For a long time, I stayed
Only to get tricked and betrayed
Yes—I once hummed along
With the angels as they sing
But an atheist came and uttered,
'Unvaried hymns are tiring.'