I was never made with wings,
so I hadn't known a life other than
the one made of dirt.
I wanted a companion,
but I fell in love with a bird,
whom would never be happy
with the ground.

i fall in love with melancholy—
it undresses my mind and ushers out words
i didn’t know i had in me

there are some things that i can only say
when i am swimming in loneliness,
but not drowning

but sometimes it’s too much;
sad songs don’t caress the wound anymore

they poke at them,
make them bleed,
worsen it

i guess they were right, after all

when you feel darkness
knocking on your door,
don’t let it in—
it is not your friend

you deserve more than this sadness.

you are
my stupidity
forever

you and I are somewhat like the sun and moon
so different but golden together
and you are The Sun
I wanna wake up to your presence every morning
bask in your glow and feel your light bathe me
and you're kindhearted, you arise everyday to provide the planet with warmth and gleam
And I adore that
This sky-fire of yours burns like my glittering stars
And I admire that
You illuminate the whole world but now I want you to illuminate me
But you always elude my chase
Cause I'm something like The Moon
My silver, meek shine enlightens the universe
and serves as a companion for little sad souls
but when I'm climbing up to Heaven and gazing down at Earth
I realize I illuminate the whole world too
but I can't illuminate my own self
See, the night was made for loving and I can't wait for the moment we touch and the sky shines burnt orange with our love
I hope one day while cruising in the heavens we meet
cause sometimes I like to think of the sun and moon as lovers
who rarely meet, always hunt each other and almost always miss each other
but once in a while they do catch up and they kiss
and the world stares in awe of their eclipse

                                                      k.­h.

"Sketch
-------
In every drawing, every sketch, every line made with a pencil.
There are pictures hidden.
An emotion left behind.
An imprint.

Every **** at my screen forms a letter, making up the words you are reading now.
And every tap of my fingernail is some sort of song I have in my head.

Everything has a meaning. Even if you don't know it.
A math equation: 17t =.5+14(t+.25)
17 means something to someone. An anniversary.
.25: A quarter. Maybe dinner for a homeless man.

Everything has meaning.

I drew a tree on my page. And that symbolizes the ways I've grown.
Ways I've changed, matured.
And also the beauty and grace of just simply
Standing tall.

Every seam on my dress was designed by someone.
I am wearing an idea.
And that idea could've been someone's pride and joy.
The career they dreamed of and finally achieved.

You never know.

Every stroke of chalk, oil, paint, is an emotion.
I would stab a canvas with a pencil lead thin brush
And it would make a star.
So simple, so beautiful, but what if my head, my heart, my body, was trembling with anger.
Or fear.
Or sadness.
A white rose is beautiful, you'd give it to your lover.
But did you know it symbolizes death?
It's peaceful nature and delicate scent, it's bright light, it's bright color.

It makes me cry every time.
Because somehow, when whoever created that symbol or came up with the idea,
They wanted to die. And they most likely did.
So then, why do people wear black at funerals?

The color is the opposite of death. If you count the white rose.
It symbolizes rebirth.

Living in the hearts of those who actually showed up to mourn you.
While others might have skipped because its just too sad or,
Maybe, they're happy. And they wore yellow that day instead.

Read between the lines. Between the creases.
Between the fingers of someone I used to know,
There were scars.

Who looked at the side of someone's finger?
No one. They were hidden.

She was hurt, but she wore pink.
And her scars were pink as well.
New, like a baby's skin. And what if it was? If it was a baby's skin,
Her way of rebirthing herself into the world and find her new soul,
Her new knowledge?

Read between the lines.
Because she had them in her toes, too."

Dear Heart,

You beat gracefully.
Your gracious pound,
Transferring life to another.

What heart doesnt love?
Was it the sweets that spoke,
Or was it his velvet voice.
That made you jump?

Dear Heart,
I love him.
More than ever.
Do you too love thee?