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Bryan Lauw Mar 8
I.
I once asked about halations, and wondered what they were;

If they did at all exist, for once.

How they'd appear only in blurry and unfocused pictures;
Or perhaps at times, still and expectant on the verge of our tears?

Now the question:
"What makes a halation?" And if we're thinking of the same thing.


II.
So I then wrote about halations, and tried to make (believe) sense—  
of what they were (not) portraying.

I spoke of their lucidity amongst all others;
of their ever-curious charm,
and of their picturesque whims—

yet denied them a photograph; and opt for another.

Hence was said:
"More than a picture; a metaphor."

In other words: are we thinking of the same thing?


III.
With it, I'll once again talk about halations, and wonder where they are;

Wonder when they might appear.

If the lights still scatter after—
and on the far side: if they would cast the same fair shades then.

Here I quote:
"For every shot taken is merely a remnant of the most beautiful."

I will speak of the light; and without doubt—
be thinking of a different someone.
Bryan Lauw Sep 2019
You'd ask me over again,
If it's okay to not want;
to not ask for more.

I would in turn answer again—
and over again:

"Despite the distances walked,
and sparing moments borrowed,

I don't—
I wouldn't mind,"


because to love is to give,
and that is all I know.
I wish I could do better. I really do.
Bryan Lauw Aug 2019
.
To the ever-lustrous Starlet—

Should I miss the fireworks,
Would you then save me a dance?
For when the stars would align,
for the afterlight,

and one just bow in the starlight?


And its captivating constellation.

Should hope flee and wane:
When the sparkles pass over
and stars reflected no longer
by the shore, in the afterlight,

Would you return my bargained sight?


Where falls your shimmering stardust?

Should we see a downpour by the starlight
and be drenched agleam under the moonlight,
Should I miss the excitement cascading
and the silken-moon cast in your eyes,

Will you tell me and speak of the light?


Upon my crown; by the eventide? If at all—

A glimpse, of that one look ever-bright;
(A tint of honesty, on those rosy cheeks;)

for when I love you so.
(for when you love me so.)


If your waltz would let the heavens rest undazzled.
.
I wonder when we’ll meet again. I really am missing your sweet company.
Bryan Lauw Aug 2019
Know that every mention of the stars reminds me of you;
and that whenever I look at the stars,

I'll think of you.
Always on my mind.
Bryan Lauw Aug 2019
The anticipation: the moment before the line picks up,
one compelling split second before I hear your voice.

Hello?

And the ember keeps its light.
Would I ever have enough of you? I miss you.
Bryan Lauw Oct 2018
"For every shot taken is merely a remnant of the most beautiful."

Portrait or Landscape,

was a question I had. As I took my stride
by the sunset, each step closer to decide:

If I should choose to line her by the horizon,
if her smile would grace the far lazing firmament?
Or have me content; to fit her full by the screen,
to fix her eyes upon me: A never ending entrancement.

Or if I should at all risk pauses in between? An endeavour,
a plausible reasoning to paste eternal; to capture every moment.

I disagreed.

So I put my camera down and lived the moment.
I chose to completely enjoy the moments.
Bryan Lauw Sep 2018
On the edge of madness she held my hand and said:
"The best things aren't always perfect, do you know that?"

Rose tinted papyrus and silver parched ink,
words written; heart stretched to a brink,
and I sought to picture, yet she peers through;
smiles and sparkles at every word said to.

Bright yellow dressed in a sleepless blue,
sometimes pale pink brushed in maroon.
Haunting and decorous; a palette uneven,
drawn infinitely close and I; completely smitten.


"More than an offering of affection;
a heedless and selfless dedication."
I didn't know when it happened, but I am glad that it did.
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