My ink rarely rhymes.  
And I write words
even myself
can’t understand.
Daily ink spills
and splatters
on my tangled sheets,
sometimes I’m ashamed of.
The empty, naked
mosaic of love letters,
you thought.
My canvas of colorful illusion,
dim and chaotic,
you said.
The words I write to you,
for you.
Words that always land
on your silent, unappreciative lips,
unseen by your darkly unsympathetic eyes.
A poem you wouldn’t want to read,
A poem you wouldn’t want to hear.
A garden you wouldn’t want to tend.
And now that the teardrops
have ceased,
the birds in the cages
have been freed,
the plants unwatered and flowers are left wilted,
the winds have begun to blur
the memories,
the ink has run dry,
and no more thoughts of you remain.
I have nothing more to say.
    I have nothing more to wish.
There is none to plead.
    My ink and my love for you
    have now rested in peace.

Until the sunlight bounced its last light
Off
Another gleaming face
And we
Looking up amidst the lenses
Memories bright as burning eyes
Puddling in skies
Above you see
And when the moon winked at us
Knowingly
We knew that it was alright to love

Do the stars know that they're far
Or do they think that falling is just warm
In love with the friction of an attractive atmosphere
How they wish to plunge into our wishful sight
Like a rippling rock or a wavering tree
No stars are not afraid of being seen
If anything sought out in both sky and sight
As the most truthful of stars, ever been
Have and are smiling
From an insatiable height

I Love Corona
Just because It made even the unheard heard
(Peace of nature)
I Love Corona
Just because It made even the blind to see
(Beautyof birds )
I Love Corona
Just because It made even the handicap to walk
(Forest Animals found its way to walk)
I Love Corona
Just because It proves even the power of  God
(Humans started their amnesty)