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ag Aug 2019
Can we talk about the rain?
Like how the sky cries so much
And how its cold wind
Touches your soul.

Or can we just share a drink?
While staring at the window panes
And while we sip
A nice cup of coffee.

Or can we just be together?
Without even talking to each other
And without even hearing anything
But the pouring of the rain.
ag Jul 2019
I ran out of ink
To write poems.
So I used my tears,
Instead
To write more.
ag Jul 2019
“Let’s stay like this”, I said while holding his hand while walking on the street with no one’s around but us. I looked up while watching the two birds sitting together on the top of the roof  thinking what’s in their mind while watching us holding hands together. And they flew. Glad they could fly together without worrying too much. I’m not waiting for any respond for I know he was unsure by the way he loosens his grip on my hand.

And yet he answered, “Sure.” I looked at him but he’s still facing forward. He never looked at me but he just smiled. He then tighten his grip and that made me know that he meant that.
ag Jul 2019
I have always  
been afraid
To sleep
Thinking, i’d lose
You
In the morning
ag Jun 2019
She still scribbled
your name
like it didn't
hurt.

She scribbled
more
until she was
fine.
ag Feb 2019
How do you like poems for morning?
Like a hot coffee on your kitchen table
With a piece of sunny side up egg
Greeting you a good morning.

How do you like poems for morning?
To start your day with a little to ponder
And a little smile on the end note
And my own morning scribbles.

How do you like poems for morning?
Because it has always been midnight poems
And midnight thoughts
And midnight sadness.

How do you like poems for morning?
It's my way of saying good morning
Since I'm really bad at morning kisses
and bad at cooking morning pies.

How do you like poems for morning?
Because I'll be glad to make you more
And I'll make time to make you happy
And I'll make poems just for you.
ag Feb 2019
I broke too much
of myself
thinking someone
could fix me.

I should have not
turned myself
to pieces
in the first place.

Because no one
would ever keep
a broken mirror
in their pockets.
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