Those tattoos of his
are the visual storyteller
every ink he painted
is a beautiful work of art
same thing happen
when he makes a mess
of my red lipstick

We went shopping
and while queuing
you pulled my hips close
and started to leave traces
on my back with your finger
then you hold me from behind
just like you always do
when we want to sleep
your head was on my right side
as you whispered softly;
"I changed my shampoo
to blueberry and the color
is a bit blue-ish"
I smiled, enjoying your warmth
then I opened my eyes
to another sunrise
and cried

Pardon my idle thumbs
I cannot stop them from typing your name
on my phone screen and pressing
the dial button

To those midnights
and days
and mornings
you acted like
a little child
who is impatient
opening his
birthday gift
when I was wrapped
inside my dress
as I lay
on your bed

Oh my dear Samson
Please, save me
The wicked wizard had
put his black witchcraft
on my heavy heart
—it turned into stone
and drown me deep
into Bermuda Triangle

Isn’t this what you wanted?
Me—gone
Somebody had to make
a solid decision, right?
Cause you cannot keep
on putting an expired food
inside your refrigerator
for it will be rot and appear
a lot awful than the last time
you left it behind

That one person
who is able to make
your past stays
*in the past