i told him
he can cry
like for a million times
that it's okay
if he feels
to pour out some of his deeds
or to sound like 'un-man'
for a fraction of second
or for hours or weeks .

but he stood fake smiling
swallowing the moist feels
he cared
he thought
both too much I could see.

'i do not like crying'
he repeats
for a million times
in my defeat.

Sometimes the thought of you makes me so weak
that I moan and crave
in the memory of your taste.

I love it when they be harsh to me.
It makes me feel hollow.
Tender and light.
If they keep doing this.
Maybe one day, just like the birds
or those weightless feathers.
I'll be able to fly and float,
able to escape and grow.

rest in peace
-
to the lovers who think of love as an effortless fairytale.

She has got those wings.
That makes her fly,  that takes her high.
She has got the enigma.
That makes her fight,  that brings out her dynamite.
She has got those tears
That vaporise like acid,  that makes her heart scream "face it".
She has got her own aroma.
That embraces her soul,  that makes her extolled.
She has got this "Girl Label".
That she hangs to her pride, that takes her upright.