Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
He was the best of all.

My worst escape, we were running in circles
we have no reason to go through,
those crooked lines made the time warp,
he was drinking whiskey and
saying those words without thinking
he took a shot or a cut, separating me
from reality as he held my tied hands.

He was driving beyond dead end,
I was tempted to scream but nothing
on us could stop it,
blindfolded as we walked onto our grave,
it was my last chance to think if  
I could stay with him despite of his desires
flashing off pretend and lies
strangers turned to traitors.

That was the last time he ever saw me.

There's no turning back,
wishing we're different
but we end in a same way,
We'd never get far
the way love story does.
The shapes your memories are

like the pouring rain
when the skies turned grey,
when the clock turned to 4 o'clock
when those songs resonated.

They got creeping in my mind,
they weree running in circles
and no point at all.
I didn't know that you're leaving soon--
I know, you're leaving.
It is a long way process
to see myself, to meet myself
where I left my destructive part

I can't step out of it
but I have to leave.

I don't even see you last night
on those vestiges where I reminded myself to come back,
we're on a same block
but on a different path.

This city and its people
left a sentiments and memories,
little cracks and a stowaway--
An element of surprise.
It was not about me anymore.

I knew what was better for me,
It was you, after all.

The beginning and end
my dawn 'till break
and the stars overhead.

Shape shifting dreams
and undercover eyes,
light cracks as crescent
they glow in the middle of the night.

Cold and afraid
through the darkening sky
and fading day.

Between unlovely walls
and empty bleachers,
I saw a familiar face,
I knew it was you.
All this time
we are behind
of this two lines
half-face, shy, old and tired
Trying to get overlap
by the time they cross
the whole halfway.

All this time
this point of view
is still into you
up to the mountain's peak,
from oceans and tides
from skies and to its depth,
They crawls back to you.

After all this time
the entire world
is still into you
but then, they are
all mirage to you.
She is
the gift of sorrow,
the language of innocence,
the sound of silence,
the figure of madness.

She is
the sun,
the moon,
the stars,
the destruction.

She is
the blank page,
the book you still haven't finished,
the image you can't understand,
the face of desire
you will be contented,
yet you insatiate.

She is
the idea you once called "dream"
the ache of fears,
a fiendish plague,
a fiendish pain,
the hands you hold
and you lost.

She is
the dawn,
the twilight,
the time warp,
the calamity.

She is
a mystery,
the lies,
the secret you can't decode,
the memories you keep

On the mess of a crumpled
paper sheets,
there she is,
lurking within the covers.
Next page