They say you're in true love
When you close your eyes
While kissing someone you love

Why yes,
I've kissed him many times
With my eyes closed
Whenever I sleep
And it is only
In my dreams

He reminds me of a mandarin orange,
easy to hold and easy to peel
with a slightly rough yet firm exterior;
sensitive to the cold.

His character is that of the sweet flesh
like his gentle words and actions;
with sour tangs that emerge on rare occasions
like a nudge of loneliness from being homesick.

But his mind and soul are the little seeds buried
deep within the depths of his eyes and his heart:
he stays rooted despite in drought; persevered
and grown to enjoy the fruit of his labor.

There is something about the mandarin and its layers
which bring me much more than luck,
love, and even life.
All of it—he—brings me home.

I suppose
I feel
that it is possible for soulmates
to feel each other's sadness
if so
then I want to cut the thread between us
so my soulmate won't feel mine
but I don't want to cut it either
because I would want to feel theirs
and lighten it with them

But I guess that
there is always certain sacrifice
we have to make
to find our other halves
to complete ourselves

"What do you think
scares you
the most
at night?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Not even my absence?"

"No. Rather, I think
the day
is scarier.
It proves that
your shadow
can still
reach me
even in the light.
But that only proves further
of your absence."

"When you're lonely,
what do you do?"

"I take pictures
of my favorite places."

"But why do you
keep taking
pictures of the same spots?"

"Because sometimes,
I wish
you'd appear
in one of them."

I wonder why
I lived from the moment I knew you.
When you become more of you,
I become more of me
Since we are a part of each other,
Even if we were born separated.
You may be there
And I may be here;
But if you weren't there
I wouldn't be able to define where I would be.
I will never stop longing for you;
How can I, with this string between us
Feeling so short
That you've pulled me closer
With just your little finger?
Yet it is never enough
As the void widens every time night falls alone;
Still, along with my heart.
We will touch,
No matter how far or long it takes:
When the moon completes;
When the clock hands meet;
When the rain freezes in heat.
Do you understand?
Maybe you don't,
But you do in a parallel world.
It is that I can only exist
When I know that you do.

I've been wishing for you,
wishing on you;
Is this the reason why
my dreams don't come true
because they don't need to?
When you're here
dancing as the pale moonlight
across my shadowed skin;
it's only in the dark
when I can let you in,
and we can see each other
best and in our brightest.
So paint yourself on the canvas of my thoughts;
allow me to be the blank pages you need.
I'll empty myself for you to fill me whole
with this dance of the thirteenth month—
a tribute birthed out of this tune.
When it ends I'll never move again
the same way I did before:
because now you are the echoing pulse of my bloodstream,
and I'm completely anew like the full moon.

here?
you're here?
well, i am too.
but i won't be there for you.
no, i will always be there for you.
but i don't think i will be there to hold your hand
or call out your name in reachable distance.
it's been more than a year since we met, hasn't it?
we haven't really met, though.
and i thought this time
we could meet for real.
at this rate, i don't know if we can ever.
i know i've been frozen and stagnant
but you've melted and moved the waters in me again;
i'm able to swim and breathe.
three more days, and you're sinking deeper in me
by every hour.
you're the one sinking
but i'm the one in the waters?
never mind, i can't think straight when it comes to you.
you're real, you're here.
i wish i could be there
to see you.

Back then
Someone asked
What my favorite poem
And constellation was

I answered with your name

Like the switch button of a 90s television set, the echoes of a knock and a dead bolt’s lock pierces the static air of sharp breathing.

“Define stay, in your point of view, when you can’t even be here to explain its meaning directly to my face,” she pleads with glassy eyes on the verge of breaking down.

She silences a sob with the tearing of handwritten letters and the burning of old photographs.  She won’t need them; she already has every word bound and every pixel branded onto her memory, as much as she tried to annihilate it all.

Behind the closed door, his eyes mirror hers.  His tongue was dry, but careful enough to select the words that would quench their parched throats and hearts.

Will she open a new door? Will he face a new destiny? Are they even in the same corridor, the same floor, the same building?

They’ve been roaming separately, unsure of their directions if one is following the other’s path. Or are they just traveling in circles of pure coincidence?

He knocks again.

“Stay is when my hands or eyes are unable to hold you close, yet you know you’re home.  Because of the way you are anchored to my voice when I say your name, or the way my heart keeps you with me.  

Stay doesn’t always require physical presence.  

I know you are already decided on staying whenever I enter your mind, whenever you think about me. And you know I can never leave your mind, much more your heart.”

She stays put where she is.

The only thing she leaves is the door—open—for him.