I miss the way I loved you
With every breath I loved you

I miss the silly girl in me
Who though we would love eternally

A song, a place I’m right back there
Young, naive without a care

Before I really grew into me
There was always us, you and me

Good times planted in my mind
Bad boxed up somewhere behind

Now I’m older now I see
You were never good for me

I had bad days, tears and sad days
Not knowing what I had done days

Try harder tomorrow days
Fail again and again days

I miss the person you could sometimes be
When you were not hurting me

So do I miss you, don’t you see
I miss the person I though you could be

I miss the way I loved you
With every breath I loved you

When I say I'm rich,
I don't have to have a coin on me,
When I say that I drive,
Doesn't mean I got a car on me,
But when I say I own property...
Don't find for 'mine' house,
Don't look at my clothes and laugh,
Or my unleashed  talents,
Neither my wishes that swing on that shooting  star,
So why can't you look into me,
Smile and admire,
In that standard working ego,
See...
No one gets into a sleepless mourny night,
Wakes up and scowls to the sun,
So I'll look richer in my broke days,
Cause depression is some hidden ninja,
Only you can see!

From the first day, I know this is not where I belong.
A village that the bird can not escape;
a hall that silence all the thoughts;
a safe zone where life is too safe;
a horrific scene where night means darkness.

A hole with limited sunshine and that’s all I see;
The hole gets deeper, the light became a slim scene.
Birds can live underground, with just enough to eat.

Luckily, the 21st century is the age of mass production, of products, and people;
Questions are no longer essential because those professions are the authority.
Renaissance has passed,
So thoughts are not necessary, just need to listen and repeat when asked.
Birds can still fly, to a destination that they should not worry about.

You bought the house with lavender
seeded in the front porch.
The scent flutters between the doorsill
and through the letterbox
like bills overdue and invoices outstanding. A postal aroma,
envelope glue smells like flowers to me.

I was never granted the privilege of rearranging flowers
You said, there was more to life than flora,
these emerald, sap dripping, saturated stems
Swelling petals fascinated under my untried eyes,
You said I must not even graze the things.

I longed for a taste of the forbidden flora.
Did buds taste like honey? Were they sour like you told me?
Would they poison these supple
and innocent lips, turn them pink to grey?
Could tastebuds kiss the perennial vines,
the posies, the spray of efflorescence
A taste of simple sweetness -

I remember when you ripped the front-porch-lavender.
The roots could not resist your claws.
You sweat to mutilate strained flowers,
You always work harder. Verdure spoiled.
Ravaged, ruptured, tanked soil.

A young lady craving some healing,
Unbeknown of how to express her feelings,
Giving her body to those who did not nurture,
They pulled, thrusted and tugged simply releasing a fake mumor,
Little did she know,
She was breaking souls just like her own,
For legs should not be spread so easy,
That soft **** lubricant realised without meaningful pleasing,
What if this was all infatuated in her head,
Those men wanted her in their bed,
They wanted to Carress her cheeks,
See her admirable, ample curves in the morning not just the imprint on their sheets,