Often, we learn not to accept,
Rather, how to live with things.
The structures that were left,
Are ruins marking memory of feelings.

Before you, you see what was,
What will never be.
Hoping each day it'll pass,
From pain, one be free.

You wake up and convince yourself,
Drown life with distractions.
Tomorrow, you won't get help,
Letting the autopilot be set in motion.

For whatever its worth,
You survived before.
But just because you've fought,
Absence of sting isn't assured for.

One day, this pillow will have a different name.
My dreams will cast a different face.
Yet for now, I know that this situation will remain the same.
Am just hoping for a faster pace.

I will be able to close my eyes and think of a new ‘you.’
Smell the morning and remember a more joyful view.
But for now, it’s your scent I recall,
And to your maze I fall.

Don’t get me wrong as I’ve done this before,
This isn’t new — no need for your sympathy.
Though I’m certain your thoughts wander other shores,
Not minding nor thinking about me.

It's bizarre how you can hear yourself even when you're not speaking,
Amidst the calming breeze of rain and busy rush of the streets.
There are nights when you can choose to color your world and narrate an epic through free hand poetry.
The shape is indefinite but the words flow.
The hues are fading yet they meet halfway.
You throw the why's in your brain even if you know the answers.
Is there a reason for lives that were touched?
"There is," we convince ourselves.
The sense waits.
The song must start anew.

Why do we dream of things that will never be?
Why do we pretend to see visions that will never be seen?
Why do we say we won't if we will?
Why do we tear up for spaces we can't fill?

It's how we say we don't feel,
How our peripheral vision roam,
Sad that it'll never be,
Remembered as past vision.

Somebody tell me how this'll be the last,
And I'll promise a life of bliss.
Aid me and save me from this seeming lust,
Just pull me back, I'm begging please.

Should there be guilt in evolving dreams?
Must we apologize to our younger selves for wanting different things?
The universe isn't how it seemed.
We have seen wider and wider rings.

Our aspirations are changing,
And the thoughts are scary.
To what will we anchor our feelings?
Longing for some assurance and stability?

Yet we can't blame our mind,
Finding new questions to every answers retrieved.
To the Forward we can't hide,
As such is the only thing feasible we can achieve.

The past is a place we can never be,
While tomorrow is a possibility.
It's easier to dream of being 25 when you're 20;
But never 29 when you're 30.

We will always want something different,
Bigger, more, always at the comparative degree.
May these possibilities be met,
And may the soulless be free.

How likely is it for two glances to see each other?
In a crowded space, in a sea of strangers?
You knew I was somehow familiar,
That's why I tried to make the conversation more real.

Then you approached with a formal greeting,
Which I warmed up in a moment I knew was fleeting.
Were you shaky or uneasy during that time?
Or do we just go and blame it all on the wine?

As orators, I understand the art.
I listened with the mind, a little guidance from the heart.
Hoping that I am not putting much thought into this,
Convincing thyself not to read through the passing bliss.