He tried to paint  the world with words
coated hue-
misery,  sweet and bitter.
Novels of leaves  tumbling from
old oaks and Christmas trees.
Canvas of dead songs written of poets from
East to West bays

His hands were wrapped with metaphors
of sun and moon
I could no longer see the lingering
truth behind all the ironies

When can I sit his side without being told naive
To love without building an old story
His world, his eyes, his words
how do you bond such gold?

i limit my friends to a circle of nine
         but in front of everybody else
         i count to ten

i used to think
that words
are the easiest to deliver

i could say i love you
without even knowing why
i could say the truth
without even thinking if it really is

now all of it is as difficult
as I was to believe in fairy tale
now all i could think about
is how will i ever say those words
   without affecting the world
   without hurting someone
   without doubting myself

I remained silent
and those words i wanted to say
left unspoken- shallow

i used to think
that words
are the easiest to deliver
now they're far beyond my reach