Lovers by the pen;
both in the love letters I wrote for you
and feeling so trapped inside my own head.

Our laughter –
is a yard for measuring out the depth of love
where you and I planted a garden of our scars.

But I’ll go chasing after you,
even now, like I never once owned you before
twisting all of my memories, like this doorknob.

I’m open to talk; but even more so to listen;
extra extras – alongside a good time of ecstasy
reading up on the all lessons of love, step by step
here I am, standing next to you, with extra feet.

I am the sacrifice of my own scars –
A case of my own insecurities; an awkward custody
Judged by the eyes unseen to my quiet depression;
As the voices are much louder in the silence of night

Like the walls of a lung breathing in and out,
…inhale…exhale…inhale more…exhales the most
I take in the ill spoken of me, letting out a smile of love

Part of the whole process; how I process most of my life
To contribute in the same fantasy, that everything is okay,
Or whatever…

A coat that is ready in days of being under the weather
A pulled face waiting for a fourth sneeze tickling a nose
It never really comes…

And maybe I’m also feeling so trapped –
But who really knows?

The stars aren’t so innocent;
Those surrounded in the twilight's dark
But when they all die off,
Who really witnesses their final spark?

They live in harmony, though with death –
As I stare at them following their emptiness;
If I must fall out of place, I’ll embrace that fate
Like a shooting star, taking the task with gladness;
Neither entering nor departing, a dark breath,
That quietly escapes out of my collapsed chest.

While my skin dissolves into dirt –
The very cradle of humanity’s birth;
My wet tears will burn scars upon my cheeks –
Never truly separated from things; but also,
never attaining the true meaning of peace.

                                      I’m all but a piece.

I’ve lost the art of praying for love;
Instead, I’m constantly praying for cause
Cause what’s the point of a lover’s love,
Without it coming alongside a real cause?

Cause you may say you love me
Professing your love with all your heart –
But in return; you go, and break my heart
Being the cause to my unstable mental state,
Being less of a state – more of a mental break.

So, please, apply your brakes, before you
Lay your heart bare before me – dreading
The thought of chronicling you as one of
My many, many mistakes; as your pretend
Love, served as that very cause.

Can you not hear
the murmurs of your skin tone –

Oh darling, your decimal smile,
is a testament to the value you own

Your kiss is an ode, your soul
a ballad; and your body is a poem.

How could a man articulate
your essence, if not through his words –

For these mere words fall short,
even for ones whose pride stands tall

A love letter, I find myself enveloping,
so unwilling to let go; wishing I could
have you as my girl.

The shadows gaze silently, cloaking me in divorce clothes
–splitting my mind in two. Nobody is innocent; for even
in the innocent eyes of a child, they must grow up –
Certainly no exception to this rule. At times, I find myself
draining the essence of my dreams, spiralling into a vortex
of procrastination, throwing my efforts down the drain.

Life is a canvas, and the art of existence is wrought with
suffering – the masterpiece of my story will be a portrait
painted with my blood, sweat, and tears, left as a haunting
Stain.

Yet, how we cast judgment upon the suicidal for not being
brave– praising the brave for flirting with the precipice of
risking their lives. As a true master of their courage; are
those who confront their deepest fears and still strive to
soar beyond them.

Still, I’ll walk through night as a strange person follows me;
only to discover that the shadows watching silently are
merely the echoes of my own regrets.

Asking myself where do I fall in people's eyes
–brave or suicidal...

I find myself so puzzled, in a web of my own emotions; pieces of
your skin pierces at my tears. Until those tears dry over, I remain
unchanged, still the same man – clutching at those pieces of you in
my hand. The haunting whispers of your voice blowing in my mind;
though I'm not a fan. But love can't be so coincidental, it has its cons
of density; a weighty significance— no matter, you still matter to me!
Still, when you spoke of making this love last, I pray you didn't say
it with lust.

And to fall in love is to tread softly; so let me down easy for the sake
of this soft heart. Even if I possessed the key to your heart, I would
still ask for your permission to let me in — to accept me as I am;
knowing we both sin. As your very breath, is inherited in a kiss
underneath my lungs; killing me slowly, a slow demise orchestrated
by the symphony of your love. Being the piece of oxygen trapped in
your glove —would you hold onto the memory of us, just for a little
long?

Circling my devotion around your name like a wedding ring; ruling
over my thoughts, my mind has crowned you Queen. And on this
battlefield of love; I'm fighting just to prove my love – processing
my words like processed foods; desperately hoping to nourish your
soul with every word.

It seems as though I've known you before; where in these past lives
we had lived — it feels like I've grown out of my old ways; and it
feels like you were that very seed. And if I'm to settle down, I need to
settle my old regrets. And if I'm to write out all of my wrongs, give
me some time to repent. And perhaps we'll be perfect lovers, if we
learn to love each other like friends. Yet, despite our efforts to be so
perfect for each other; we'll still remain imperfect in the end.

                                                           ­                       Beautifully flawed.