Dearest Future Self,

Please meet me at the stars,
For I will disperse like a dust
Drifting and fading
Of this broken old me.

Prepare a banquet in the clouds,
For thy wind will drizzle
My shattered dreams and
Crushed promises.

Sing to me a sweet melody in the sky,
For my heart lament-
My soul withered
Of this unrequited love of mine.

Wrap me with your arms beneath the sun,
For I’m cover with the shivery coldness of the past.
Welcome me with kindness and fond,
Before this old me wave its last.

I happened to know and meet
A ******* from the other side of the planet;
He was standing right before me
Half naked and wet.

His chest was broad and hairy,
With arms perfectly formed like of Machete;
His face was divine and beguiling,
That no living could refuse to his innocuous body.

But, you see, there is more to say,
The strand of his hair tells his story of ******* feats,
His chest has become lone travelers' resting place,
And his face is no unusual to those whose hands have touched it.

But when in  his eyes I look,
I saw a man who is distant but one;
A reflection of a soul no different from his,
A man who becomes someone he thought he would never be.

Let me tell you a story of a man
Who fell in love with the sun
Awkward it may seem
But he loved the sun with all his heart.

He wakes up early to greet the sun
To embrace the warmth of the sun
With arms wide open, he lifts up his soul
And together the two become one.

But just like any other stories
Theirs also had some ups and downs
When the sun becomes sad
Clouds cover his face
And let rain be his tears falling.

When angry, the sun scorches his skin
Until he gets burnt and tanned
He takes refuge under a tree
And finds comfort in the darkness of a cave.

Until one day the man said "I am done."
"You will not see the radiance of my face."
And off he went to a place where the rays of the sun could not reach
But every now and then he peeks on a small crack
Staying awake all night to see the sun breaks the first dawn of the day.

Don’t fall in love with a journalist;
He will investigate your past and use it against you.

Don’t say yes to an essayist;
He will hurt you with his straightforwardness.

Don’t get married with a novelist;
He will leave you in a tremendous maze.

Most importantly, don’t make love with a poet;
He will make you moan with rhythms and rhymes,
Bite you lips, caress your ******* with figures of speech,
Make you reach ****** using words simple but vague.

A poet will give you the stars and the moon for the night,
But will not give you a piece of his heart when daylight comes.

I own every inch of myself,
my eyes, hands, and my two little feet.
I see what I want my eyes to see,
Be in broad daylight or in complete darkness.

My hands feed the angel and the demon in me,
And I go barefooted to towns and the wilderness.
I am their master, and they are my slaves.
My words give them life, and my voice, strength.

But my heart, my heart is different.
It has eyes that see what I fail to see;
It caresses the scarring skin with delicateness,
And leads me to a place where the sun never sets.

I have a heart which I do not own;
For my heart is yours and yours alone.