Your ravishing face
Is still fresh in my mind,
Like a vivid framed image
That was perfectly captured
By my photographic memory.

Your pitch black hair
Like an entropic deep sea
With tornadoes wildly dancing
As I dally my little fingers
And breathe its fragrance.

Your serene eyes
Are like gold ideally placed
They are as deep as wells
And when I look into them
My soul loses in the dusk.

Your prominent cheeks
As if the sun kissed them
Like rose primordiums
They redden as they bloom
With such flattery from fools.

Your soft-looking lips
Like petals coupled together
Enticing me to pick them
Touch as if I were a bee
And taste them ’till I’m pleased.

Your debonair skin
With its zealous tan bepaint
Makes me ponder and deem
That you are the only earth
I fancy most to live with.

You’re just like a balloon
That I wanted so dearly
Like a child so amused
With the feeling and its hues.

One day as I watch you
As distant as always,
I didn’t know it was the day
You’ll be wanting to stay.

I’m the child, you’re my balloon
We’ll forever stay in tune;
I dance with you under the sun,
I dream of you under the moon.

One day you flew away,
Another child wanted you to stay.
You left me, empty and lonely;
Feeling the mark from your string.

My love is like a seed
In the middle of spring
Sprouting with the weeds
Like befriending an enemy.

As the flower gets bigger,
And the summer gets warmer
My skin is burnt
And my heart has toiled

As the flower weakens,
In autumn it bends
Its leaves slowly fall,
Its color slowly fades

The flower wilted and froze
In the winter, ice as its foe
As the heat turned to snow,
In the end, I was buried below.

Sweet words in my mouth,
Formed and hardened,
Like indissoluble candies,
Clogging my throat,
Ceasing my breath.

Sweetness overflow,
Rushing in my veins,
Blocking my mind,
Losing my sanity,
Killing me slowly.

And on my grave,
Ants will feast,
They will eat my meat,
Just as if dying,
Is as sweet as living.

He is my sun and I am but a wild flower:
A beauty from a little, insipid race.
Loosing my chance to be noticed,
For there are better flowers than me.

He is my sun and I am but a flower
I live from the light of his at day;
Shiver from the dark when he is away
With this fragile, ephemeral body.

He is my sun and I am but a flower
I envy the clouds for they are always together
With my dearest sun that I fancy above all
And here I am, rooted still on the ground.

He is my sun and I am but a flower
Cursed to gaze at him from birth to death
Until I bow my bald head on my grave
And drop my last, unobtrusive petal.

A boy with messy hair,
That’s how I know you.
A girl with shabby dress,
That’s how you know me.

Since we were kids
We started as friends
I was one of the boys
And you are one of them

We run in the afternoon,
Wave goodbyes at night
But things don’t end like that,
We meet again at the same time.

We grew up as friends
Sharing secrets no one knows well;
Like open books for one another
Locked for the eyes of others.

Time flies as we grew older
And our friendship grew weaker.
You started to love someone, so do I
The only difference is you love her, not I.

I know a boy;
Drowned in the sea of darkness,
Long ago breathed his last happiness
As his burdens drag him deeper
And shuts his eyes from the light.

I know this boy;
Who woke up in the dark sea:
Ears deafened by the waves of water,
Thought he won’t need to breathe again
And tries to live in the deep lies.

I knew this boy;
So I swam in the sea of sadness:
Although I knew it is dangerous,
I hold on to my last breath of happiness
Only to share with him hoping he could live again.

I love a man who does not love
How downcast it is, but for him is not
To love and not, does mean to naught
To win or to lose, that is what he know.

How lucky it is for he always win
As if God has his eyes only for him
Favoring every one endeavor of his
No errors and regrets, not even a hiss.

He is almost perfect, that I must say
But what is perfection without love?
Just like heaven with no angels around;
And a beautiful song without any sense.

I love a man who does not love
No one has ever been into his heart
Not even I who knocks day after day
There’s a lock, but a key was never made.

Bow, hands on the sink.
Drip, drip, drip
– the blood from my lip.
Pierced like ripped jeans
for a fist has made its kiss.
Head up,
face the mirror
and laugh.

I was prettier with pink teeth
when I smile.