I'm having a love affair
Multiple if you get down to it
The sun, he kisses my cheeks every morning
My coffee frenches my mouth
My clothes caress over my body
At night
The stars whisper sweet nothings into my ears
And the moon penetrates my being
And they all become jealous when he is near
For he gives me all of this
He adds the butterflies that wreak havoc within
I am having a love affair
One I will not quit

let's not keep the grudge
on the back of our foes
with words and actions
that could cut like a knife
that has no handle

We've been reading Catch 22 in English
Everyone thinks Yossarian is crazy
But normal is relative
And he's relatively normal to me

Water has no color
Water has to scent
Water has no texture
Water has no taste

No color paste can be made without water
No aroma, perfume or sweat, can smell without water
Rough lands are soften into soil through water
All meals are cooked and all drinks are made through water

It's the most simple words
that create complex worlds

In plainness lies poetry.

With a distant mind he had, the only thing that crossed it was the girl he loved.
But the distance between him and his heart was killing him slowly
Even the love of the girl he loved was fading like the setting sun,
Slowly as oceans repelled him from stopping the wound of an emotional gun.
Everything was quoted, every book he read, every word he heard,
  every picture he saw, all was quoted to guide him or put him to a stop.
Friends abandoned his wrecked body to suffer for eternity,
To his family it was a long awaited liberty,
He could not predict tomorrow anymore,
The picture of his future and his present was just a metaphor of no tomorrow,
Fragments of the past flashed his head like lightnings in a storm, inevitably.
They had dreamt a dream but led them nowhere,
A journey to go back and stop the seeds he grew from was an impossible option.
He had prayed everyday to see his death but all he got was more respiration
To feel more pain until his mental eruption of drowned sorrows,
There was no more tomorrow
The cracks on his heart eventually broke off…

Standing here, in 90-degree land
Where nothing is right
But the drink in my hand

Sweet saving coolness, fine eastern breeze!
I welcome thee warmly,
I welcome you, please

Stand fans may blow this languor away,
But I cannot stand
These bills I must pay

Summer is hot on my heels as I run
Through prickly white sands
– and the daydream is gone

In thick sticky air, seconds trickle and crawl
As sweat from my temples
To the sides of my jaw

The sun's got a fever and my blood could be boiling
I laze inch by inch though my insides are roiling
To be productive in this haze – this hell of a heatwave
But instead I'm in bed, just rotting and spoiling

Nobody seems to like my poems
although I fill them with the pain that
circulates from my head to my toes.
Expressing emotion is so hard to do
yet people expect that it's a simple trick
a thought come to mind, either a hit or a miss.
But it's so much more you see, the horrors
locked away in the depths of your soul
written down on a page for the public to see,
a way to vent those nights you spent in the
dark. What's the point of creativity if it cannot
be shared, if those around you don't find meaning from
all the time that you spend, hidden away behind a screen
broken down and typing the thoughts you have stored for
years. Though this poem might rhyme little, I hope that
you see that I'm just a girl behind a computer screen, hoping
to find someone like me.

I keep hearing of this master plan,, the grand plan,,, and NO,, don't try to preach to me,, I know the whole bible,, even the banned scriptures.
I have searched for answers but found none.
I am tired of carrying this cross, I cant do this any more.....

I have been to churches,, I have heard the preacher sell hope like my mother sold me,, God's master plan right?
I have had to dogged bullets in the darkest places, have had to carry peoples dreams and responsibility in my own highway of dreams.

I have had to die so that some can survive, Never loved so that someone can get a second chance in life.
Truth is being a saint did not help me, made miserable.. still does..
Can I please change the canvas? or bring in new colors..

Perhaps beyond the horizon there is a new background....
A reality that man denies himself..
A lighter burden perhaps...
or more reverse psychology to make me face tomorrow

I keep checking on my phone from time to time.
I think I am hallucinating, seeing that red beep to indicate that someone pretends to care about me.
I hit the refresh button on my browser,, May be Facebook has something for me,, Or all these other billion apps.

But No,, the world don't care about me. I take a moment to exhale before I jump into my safety net.... reality.. I think we all want to belong somewhere..
I want someone to notice when I am gone... I want someone to care when I fake a smile.. or throw a dramatic tantrum.. That someone used to be you.

The truth is life is busy being life ... and you are busy holding someone in your arms,, where I belong. You are busy wiping someone's tears away that I drown in my own pool of tears.. You forgot me... just like that.. its like I never existed ....... Do I even exist?

you said to me
it's just because I am pretty.
don't fall in love with me.
but then you breathed
desire and need
with your tongue.
and included me in dreams
that haunt the stars.

Maybe a nearby star will
supernova
and build a giant black hole.
so powerful
the sun and moon will be swallowed
into its depths.
so fast the earth will disappear
in lightening speed.
perhaps then
I would think of you
for the last time.