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A west side story in my eyes,
A four lined play is all aligned.
The bedside window with your seal,
I laid my sheets with inks of green.

“Small talks” and “calls away” in cords,
Minutes to silence and I sway.
To my delusion minted in laughs,
We grew red tinted in a day.

Inklings that I cease to know,
I fight or fly and learn to forget.
Fall and stumped to see my brakes,
Where we collided like we met…

In echoed words at sea driven by car,
Beyond the time we wasted.
Seek to run away yet not far,
I knew our worlds shifted…

No poetry in letters without your words,
Where I had my arms in your initials.
The stars I knew lighted our worlds,
Could it be a memoir, like I knew before?

A west side story in vain,
Where you kept the call tabled in one word.
When you pictured the light in the rain,
I should've stepped one foot as if unheard…

A west side story, no coincidence,
The sun can't always shine in the screen,
Not like the movies in all sense,
You grace the warmth like it's ever been.
The mist without sunshine; we're here,
on wheels with two smiles.
Nineteen to where we matched,
to the strings attached in miles.

To see you like clear skies,
all ears with each uttered word,
within each glimpse of the eyes.
I seek warmth to echoes I heard.

The energy I could see,
if to name it yours;
you kept it crystal clear and free,
where we'll open all uncharted doors.

My stars will hold your moon,
and align you with me.
A scarlet tint; a living boon,
we'll cross paths at three.

If I can say “You smile”,
all my thoughts fathom in awe.
To no misery of baggages i pile,
they leave my chest ashore.

Small talk with music in chords,
minutes to silence and I'd sway.
To my delusion minted in your laughs,
we grew red tinted in a day.
Symphony tickled his hair,
                   where he reckoned her perfume stayed.
The thoughts he had in a daydream,
                   are lost where she laid.

With her beat that skipped his heart,
                   she tied the strings he had in line,
The sweet 'Eurekas' perched like sharp darts,
                   she knitted his time and trapped his mind.

Her hemp stitched to his fine lace,
                   she pulled the thread on his hand.
Soft tucked linen of her rose and haze,
                   he was resting in her abode of sand.

His ears to her lullabies, rings in her reminisce,
                   to sing with warmth as they duel.
Her solo piano played the one he missed,
                   her voice echoed for his jewel.

Not rarely, he sat by her shores hence forth,
                  to witness her shades of scarlet,
His hand choked the gin in her ode,
                  and raised the nine clouds to his head.

In silent white garlands and prayers,
                 She whispered his spirit as her's walked back.
He knew her bliss to caress his twin three years,
                 when they inked her back to black.
Cashmere curtains and drawing rooms,
Red pavements and fast cars,
You knew better and saw maroon,
To flip my page back to scars.

You're my sweater in winter;
In June I'd wear you too.
In your fabric to simmer,
like a makeshift bed ado.

You are the gin, I call vice,
the word I never knew.
You are the storyline, the advice,
They play in the news.

Covered my watch and sane,
I knew my time, my hours;
Laid on the sofa across the pane,
Just to let the open shower.

How to ignore bright eyes?
If you're the slit of ray indoors.
How to write for you?
If my ink is edged in yours,

You wrote me these words,
In my time left with you.
My dawn sets with the birds,
And I sigh as it struck TWO!
You wrote my context with no side quest,
when you let me sing your tone.
Beneath my skin-coloured lined chest,
you close my eyes to seek us alone.

I felt content for one reason:
to smile along my way in the rain.
You grace warmth in the off-season,
to line your joy with my pain.

You let the cold brush pass
as we're led down the alleys and paths.
In your whites and my faded cast,
within each step, I could sense your heart.

You utter a word to hear my line,
when in distance, you were close.
I would rest my eyes to see you in mine;
if blindfolded, I knew you the most.
Drawn was I to those eyes,
to see through your light.
When your loo blew ashore,
it capsized me inside.

Down beneath the willows,
where you'll lay your beauty,
Where I'm yours, in the green,
to breathe your calm breeze.

Daylight shines in your face,
as the hair cascades through.
Over the hills and far away,
you're painting me with you.

You're leading this bloke to life,
where I could drown in glee.
I feel you calming the soul,
my divine aura as I seek thee.

Rippled a thousand times,
to know you're still there.
The heavens will keep my spirit,
beside your grave to share.

They say I'll hum new chorus,
if you drown me in your dime.
To think I'm a fool, for I've
found my heart up this time.

In deepest waters, you found me,
made me into something new.
Your rhythm keeps me in time,
to know that I'll carry on for you.

I'll pen this reverie,
as I yearn for your sight.
Your the ritual I need,
as I'm drawn to your light.
 Apr 2023
Banraplang B Tron
Kept out of sight,
And stroked with inks of blue,
I pen in black and white,
And journey my way into you.
Through summer nights,
Back in time of the cusp of signs,
I see you through the slits of light,
As deep down you burned too bright.
I wonder if every facade,
You'd bury in your shade!
I'm bewildered if every heart,
You'd broken to exist in hate!
For as I caressed you on green pastures,
I reciprocate your aura with the soul I laid.
What I could never see within,
You were the one healing.
I'd drive you past your mind maze,
And deflect the waves arising,
Nor did I care to trace.
Or was I realizing?
For if I gave warmth to settle,
I could brush up the haze.
Saw you climbed the beanstalk,
As I fall from cloud nine.
Made you reached the end of time,
And landed on the first line.
I wonder what every facade,
You'll hide within the shade!
Cause deep slumber intertwined with pain,
Is the catastrophe that struck you in vain!
 Apr 2023
Banraplang B Tron
If I were to wither in death, peculiarly as your symphony…
Caressing your sweet songs.
Oh! How to know that I'll yearn for your seed of heart amongst the bitter milkweed…
To be wreathed, after the thorns I've been crowned while I breathe.
To be six feet under earth, uttering words in deep slumber.
To hear the bells ring beside my stone as I dive in eigengrau?
For in spirit yet I indulged to journey your trail…
With backgrounded hymns high and low in unison, "Ashes to ashes, dusted he be with earth"…
You laid me to rest in peace with your mourns and lowered heads.
You sing me carols of the loved Or so will i know you'll sing me the  "Arms of the angel" .
Bare me palms of three stroked soil thrown with last biddings of sorrow and grief.
If only the mind knew where my life went?
Let alone be embezzled of greater revelations between my dimensions.
With pure warmth, to no sprouts of bitter in your heart.
You'll see the slab written R. I. P
Bereaved with your flowers of hue,
Laying down as every step leaves the hill in a spree.
Will your heart still skip me a beat?
Or might you as well bury the sheets?
For it's known, to long for the gone…
And take granted of the bond…
As I speak of a reverie, far from reality,
I painted my pictures blue,
To know this is far-fetched…
To know it is due.
 Apr 2023
Banraplang B Tron
"These chills are real! ", you said,
As we drifted through the wind.
The lights that haloed over your head,
Is something rare, something different.

The skies lit up the way,
Through the pavements that lay.
You cascade into the lights,
As we strolled through those October nights.

" The nights are long! " , you sighed.
We'd run to the hills and hide.
Why do I let this go on?
The moon, the stars, we have till dawn.

The air feels soothing tonight,
And there's you by my side.
I can hear the cars, see the red lights,
As we streaked out of the crowd.

That happened one October night,
To what joy in a secret of two will bring us much light.
I still feel the chills as the winds kiss the cheeks,
In these late night walks of two along the streets.

Imagine the songs playing in the head,
Where oblivion leads to some uncertainty.
Reminisce the laughter we ushered instead,
That's where you'll find us circling insanity.
 Apr 2023
Banraplang B Tron
I've left footsteps past these trials where the grass lay green,
To journey the way where the soul seeks solitude.
What lies ahead of the brambles, is a thought of a few.
Barefoot as I step on soft ground,
The earth leads the ankles to the rhythm of the sound.
I skip a heartbeat for how I never thought what grew in me.
The silence that high and low yearns, is where I'm holding on easily.
Fear in itself I've encountered, leads to where the mind fathoms hastingly.
Somewhere down the line,
I've witnessed the skeptic aura where many have succumbed out of breath.
But the music that gathers the thoughts, held me from being wreathed.
These winds have whispered long enough the futurity that's unknown.
These skies have all the more given space to escape the frown.
This daydreamer has a mind of his own.
It leads him to wonder,
It leads him to remedy.
It leads him to fade into his memory.

Gravity might as well force one down,
And take one's energy,
As the eyes open to witness the spinning reality.
The mist dims the light to keep me lost in this line.
I look for comfort in an unclear sharp edge,
That's where I knew I'm pulled down from cloud nine.
Into oblivion now I'm left behind.
The world  loves oxygen robots,
The shimmer of gold yet the bulk of rust.
The doctrine of work is the call
For what nobody knows, it is rewarded with pall.
The castles you've conquered, the beasts you've slayed,
None to be remembered but only the hate.
Strong enough as I stand,
Yet it takes one word to cut the strand.
The reveries of black and white are shoved into words of light.
The graveyard is spared of wreaths, once again I survived the fight.
But this daydreamer has stories of his own,
It leads him to journey into the blue.
It brought him back to square one or two.
It led him to ashes, to dust.
But it'll lead him to a purpose.

— The End —