crashing:
              tear stains on the pillow
                               i imagine ocean waves

flowing:
              shadows on the wall
                                i imagine jet-black ink

dripping:
              raindrops on my window
                                i imagine foot steps

drowning:
             in a tall glass of water
                                i imagine you

all these happening:
             whenever i drink
                                 a glass of you

these cold white floors
are never enough
to mirror the purity of your heart
or to capture your hands' warmth

the intricacy weaved on your clothes
and patterns drawn by your feet
can never compare to
the dancing heart you wear on your sleeve

so don't look down
every time you fall
but hold on to their arms
and firm words and calls

to yourself, you're imperfect
to me, you're emboldened:
you don't need to win gold
when you're already golden

I long to see you already,
Even if the time of our separation—
The distance of a second
Which felt like a lifetime—
Was so short.

You won't forget me,
Like the back of your hand.
You never truly will.
I assure you with everything I am.

Because I am the song you've never heard;
The book you've never read;
The painting you've never looked at;
The one you've never thought of in your head.

I am the sea you've never swam in,
Or the keys you've never played.
I am the star you've never wished upon,
Or the prayer you've never made.

I am the dawn you've never seen,
The pillow you've never had at night;
I am the door you've never opened;
The glasses you've never used for sight.

As I came to know and realize
You like the back of my hand;
Knowing you exist, in my eyes,
I assure you with everything I am:

I never truly will,
That I will never forget you too.
But you've never known me in the first place,
So it was never the same for you.

he doesn't talk much
but his eyes and hands do.
they do so well
that they speak even better
than i can.
i only wish i am the one
he looks at; he touches.
i only wish i am the one
he talks about.

I wake up to your eyes on me,
Your lips close to my cheek.
Under the sheets, slowly,
It's my hands that yours meet.
Entwining beneath the fabric,
You hold me closer.
I inhale, exhale your morning scent,
It makes the dust particles stir.
My fingers run themselves through your hair,
Like how you keep running in my head.
To fall asleep in your arms,
to fall in love again,
I never want to leave this bed.

my favorite dance step of yours
is when your fingers
start to play the piano.

and because you,
who speaks little with strangers,
suddenly become the talk

of everyone
when you let your hands
speak for you.

Do you think
I am immortalizing you too much?
Do you want to rest in peace?
My hands want to rest as well
But the heart never stops.
To me, the one grieving,
Nothing can ever replace you.
Not another person,
nor your favorite song.
Not a picture nor a place.
Not your sweater
nor your favorite weather.
Neither your favorite book with
the highlights of your favorite quotes,
nor the words
I speak of you.
Not even more time,
nor the memory of you.

the stereotypical way
of a girl or a guy falling in love

is a boy whispering sweet lies
because a girl likes what she hears
and a girl dressing up or down
because a boy likes what he sees

but between you and I,
the boy and the girl,
I was the one speaking words
and you were the one with visuals
I was the one who fell in love
and you were the one who never felt the same