I'm not much in number of years
But I have shed a number of tears.
People tell me 'spend less time with the heaven lit-
And surely one day that somehow you'll benefit'.
Days grow long
and nights carry on
But I resume my task of staring at the stars
In hopes that they don't venture on far
But I know truly,
No matter how far they go,
They will always be in my heart.

Six years ago, when I was fourteen
And the world was seeing twenty-ten
I met my crush's best friend, also fourteen
But we went separate ways and left it at back then.

We met over Windows Live messenger,
For the younger kids, that was a chat platform
Somewhat of a dinosaur metaphor
And made imaginations of kid's grow warm.

We had a somewhat mutual attraction
Bonded over nothing in common but differences
After a month I asked her out , positive reaction,
So we went to see a movie, following her preferences.

After the movie was done and over,
I told her 'that movie was god awful'
And she says 'I know, I'm not a stoner'
I asked questions, denying my mind to boggle.

'Why did you want to watch it then?'
She replied ' I want to see if you'd stick it out,
And your honesty is an honest ten,
So I'm not really having any doubts'.

I ghosted her, disappeared from all contact
She grew concern but I reassured her I was fine
Then it was in these set of words exact
'I don't think I can be dating a girl I met online'.

Six years later, A few days ago to be precise
As I was waiting the arrival of a train
I noticed a girl, I had to check twice,
Her face was forever indented in my brain.

There she was, 'Tina?' I call out,
She turns around, took a few seconds to think
And without even a shred of doubt
She replied, 'Kevin?', and everything felt in sync.

It's been six years, we have had our changes
But though time was against us, we remembered
As new books get written, new printed pages,
There existed a mark that never burnt in the ember.

'I was meaning to call you', she says politely
'How you don't have my number?'
'Then here', passing me the phone she held tightly
And a smile I did encumber.

Six years, different places, different looks
And yet we ran into one another once again
So although there may be new pages in the books
A story can be written as long as there's a pen.

No matter how many years it has been
She hasn't forgotten my name, nor me
And it will always be stuck in Twenty-sixteen
When I once again met Tee.

Love with a love that burns brighter than the sun
Because when your final breath comes undone
You'll know that love will leave you wishing
That you have loved deeper, loved harder,
and loved more.

You write for enlightment
The purpose of writing
Is capturing a lightning
That is gone in a flash.
Being a poet is
Wrapping up flames
With nothing but paper
As the resultant ember
Becomes an assault
On the limitations
And confines
Placed on humanity.
Being a poet
Is being a star
That is either dead
Or carrying a burnt
Existence
Just to guide those
Who are lost
With the light of love.

I want to kiss you.
It sometimes physically hurts not to kiss you.
I don't want to look into your eyes,
because I don't want to see the confusion in them.
I don't want to explain myself.
I just want to feel your breathing on my face as
my lips fit onto yours.
I want to slip my thumb
under the line of your jaw,
and tip your head back,
to expose your beautiful, long neck.
I want to run the tip of my nose along it
and to hear nothing but our breathing.
Sometimes I look at that face and
it's like I've been hypnotized,
my greatest desires want to come out.
I want to kiss you sweet god in another life
I would kiss you.
And then afterward,
press a soft hand to your lovely head
and wash the memory from it.

"You don't need water to feel like you're drowning"

I hear tunes in my head,
It plays to the tunes of Beethoven,
Then slowly ceases to silence.
I hear tunes in my head,
An imagination of what your voice
Sounds like to me.
If I were to choose between the two,
I would always choose the latter
Because I can dive into my imagination
And because nothing can move my heart
Than the sound of symphonies
Orchestrated to sync with the beat of my heart.
I hear tunes in my heart,
The brass that is your breath,
The stringed instruments that ties my heart,
Percussions that matches the beating,
Of my once silent heart.

We're all just lost souls searching for that momentary distraction of happiness  

K R W