From heaven and hell
or simply I could tell
a labyrinth where I fell
and begged in a
cathedral that I've built
to woe my insurmountable grief
to forfend my undying love. and thus, my love grew as my abyss.

Should I be proud of myself, having a triumph in my life, eagerly tossing and standing straight for a toast in the crowd even if it means to lose you?

It'll be a great disaster, a fiasco.

Little did I know that I've forgotten a lot how ardently melancholic the scorching afternoons were.

those afternoons, where it consisted of sweet reeks of cotton candy and lollipop, those afternoons that I don't have to beg just to rest, not to measure the time approximately and counting how proximate the distances are, like how I trace my digits on things to know if they're adjacent;

this afternoon, it's like I'm coming home to you.

I have never known love at its awakening; To a mere happenstance, it unfurled in the simplicity of side by side walking through the streets, picturing each shared memory at every corner of it. Like we are the side story of someone else who has been on the same spot of the coffee shop, little did we know that we always share memories for someone else to tell.

Have you ever memorized each word that I said that day, from the first time we met, from the way I said each syllable and how I forced myself to not stutter? Although we cannot recall each scene day by day, what matters is that I always remember each fragment of our memory each time I say your name.

It's like a collision, but it's a peculiar one. It is perfectly meant to meet each other, like it is measured accurately and approximately. But is it really worth the time?

I always knew about the ocean's calling, deep in my heart. It keeps me wandering to find what I yearn for — could it testify the animosity of being insatiable?

I wait on the shore like a lighthouse guiding your way back to me, as if I hold faith in it, like it is a perseverance that grew in my chest. I am certain to the florescence of my flowers and to its withering as I know the  durations of its life and death is when I could meet you again. And though, the inconstant desolateness of the ocean continues to wait.

Love.

It's been two years since we have been through on this different world; I left the mountain peak and reached the seventh sea.

I thought this is the only worse thing that I can do for love.

You have been my world, my everything— a light that burns brighter when the night comes, I deeply drown in you.

We are created by constellations and dream and binded for centuries;
You are the love that I have been written long ago that the prophets kept telling we will meet on collision.

And a blind faith will keep us on truth; my love, there are things I can still do for you.

Spaces and proximity
light through sleepless night
years we count
on hopeless time.

Here's a thing i love
to wait---the rain
we could not restraint
that pushed by gravity.

you are my devotion
ready to defend the
universe---
no matter how many times
it had destruct.

You can see this love
only once---
Our life overlapped
at one orbit line
i'll be with you
so take my time.

Blind nights
bright stars
i'll be there,
waiting for you
to tell
all too similar things.

We've built a house like we recognize each other's walls, we felt safe on every corner where we familiarize ourselves too well; it's the anatomy of us. Our limbs where we cling to were as fragile as the heart I sculpt its own cracks, This body is malleable, it just grew mimicking what the others have— the fragments of what I love, my flesh, my soul and my curve haven't left untouched.

I shouldn't have grown into you, like this body doesn't belong to myself anymore.

Born by the spellbound of love and destruction, held like a pretense of heartstrings. Each crevice is traced to you, it is heavenly bestowed.
I was lovelorn, following the trails of this uncertain path engraved deeply that leads to you.

Your eyes were pits of abyss,
a gravity force of unknown,
a precipice before the great fall;
the moment that I found you is when I lose myself.

II. Abyss
And at the end, we'll all just be stories
burrowed in my skin, on each pale flesh is draped with what could have lingered. adorned with a chrysalis on my chest, it cages the hollows of the abyss. Then soon I'll be a fleeting moment you carry in your heart.

Drunk of dreams
hold by waiting,
treacherous eyes
keep watching,
take me home
or i will follow it
on my own
with these fragile limbs.

Vulnerable part
on consistent image
through broken mirror,
too much gravity
can change the atmosphere.

You're just another daydream
or another catastrophe.

There I was, staring from afar,
is it just the night scene that makes my periphery hazy? Or we're on a geomorphological process of meeting an another celestial body; you were standing there, wondrously daydream- like, as that time came unbeknownst to me.

There is a strange familiarity on you
that changes my animosities— a paradigm shift, and all the long way leads to you.

Winter,
the decaying of life

Light;
sheer and lustrous

that's how your eyes glisten on the first fall  of snow

Cold is the night as it nestled on the nook of my neck; a familiarity
though, a sun-warmed skin mended the aching cold.

You were all what is left; a hope I keep when I wonder if there is a place for us among the ruins.

Hope;
an anticipation.

You:
the gift of winter.

We were once told that we are the missing part of someone else with an empty heart and a lost soul, taking the absurd, roaming around the world as barely whole.

And as I look at two points, a double vision
meeting the one'******, unwaveringly— a north star, perfectly aligned upon the night sky. An anchor to a heart, it is engraved deep in waves, tumultuously enfolding each flesh— a longing as to be found in the wilderness, a pillar as to be run into, safely.

And though my love clung to a myth,
bounded to a constellation embodied us
and traced in our palms, they will remain a story from the past.

How does it feel like to float in a complete void, alone with an uncertainty of surviving and going back to where you used to live? I was talking about the Sputnik II, the famous satellite launched with the dog Laika aboard. The very scene also portrays the life here on land. Each day, I'm caving in my own realities, an impressive way of escaping. It has buried me in that idea of you existing on it. It is a badge to be given, a sigh each time you twist the **** on the door.

And there I am, a banquet of a montage of a violent delight, a beauty of the sea cascading the shore, it's in my veins, a rushing current of this mere event. I watched people applaud, how the glass clinks, and you, an array of sun, so immaculate, I can't look away.

I cannot bear losing it.

and we'll be a specks withering, it is a bittersweet love:

I would endlessly live on it.

There was a time that I beg for someone to stay; a triumph of a lost traveler as he finally conquered a hidden fortress and ****** was in his veins. I was once left in his nightmare, as it was a sphere, where the embers turn to ghost.
I held a full revenge on frail hands,
a raging storm that would crash the bridges.
I thought I was brave enough until there was you, who brought light in darkness. You changed the skyline amid my calamity--
in that way I remember you.

She romanticize the orchestra of her muffled cries, caught her canvases
bruised with purple and red,
Her bare chest was beautifully wounded by a serrated cage, arranging her disorganized open heart.

Her heart is malleable from tragic delights, she ripped herself open, willing to give it whole.

Will you take it all and leave it as it is?
Does it oblige you to wrap your arms around me like a tightening noose?

And as she draw marks of red stains and carve on her skin, her limbs were perched perfectly, as you adore it with a painful stare.

And her hands were pure certainty, remained untouched.

It was Sunday afternoon, and the time was moving steadily.  
My room is a solemn dusk as the skyline would summon a perfect storm. All I could hear was my blood, rapidly gushing, in a body that is a vessel of momentary waves; and I was idling, holding a ***** cup. Can I still even keep my coffee warm in my freezing hands? Forlorn by the sunlight, torn by a whimsical love.

And yet, I still keep you,
as I search for you on the shelves
as I look for you at the other side of the door.

This room is full of calamity, isn't it?

So many catastrophes isn't it?
If all you had was hell, imagine if I were the world where you are standing right now, right this year, too painful, too depressing; Be careful what you wish for.

Drunk with dreams,
           drowned in tears,
           dreadful glimpse
                 I can't look away.
Dim the lights
           with delicate fears
           and drop the vermillion piece.

Covered with blankets
saturated series,
like a champagne and the stars.

"Imagine, they all fade in just one night,
I remember the time when the collision was chasing after you."

They told me, it's not the end.

A great man's voyage
conquered the seven seas;
fully armed with high hopes,
his expectation is the vessel
of his triumph
as he found the girl
who speaks of love.
Though they were apart,
no one else can take what
only was meant for them.

Long ago
there were poets
who taught us
how life goes on.

They were left in dust
but kept on pages
they gave us reason to love;
You must give it back.

There is a star I look upon
the midnight blue sky,
in gray moonlight
after the showers.
You reached the end—
the death of star.

There's nothing I can really own,
I ache at something that wasn't mine; no memories to recollect and no sound of voice that I could memorize, not even a light could stay within.

And even the sky changes its color, it doesn't even own the stars.

Your world is quiet tonight,
dreams drifted to nightmare
synthesized points leads no reason,
you might caught up by a monster
you better watch out,
look at every corner of his eye.

There's a gold glitter on the floor
look closer, underneath it's
a remnant of ruined cards
shifted to play this part
without a soul,
like a demon.

Love is a villain
that vanquished the queen
dancing in white storm;
you are too beautiful
to wear a monochrome dress.

Don't look under the bed,
you will get what you deserve,
in your curiousness
in your consciousness.

I deal with daylight dialogues
and night time lullabies
you make them bright and true
suddenly, they become plain monologue
as you drift away.

"What thing did hurt you the most?" He asked.
"drowning" I answered.

He look at me as if he scrutinized each word to say.

"you can simply swim against the currents" he said.

I know he can do everything and there's one girl who couldn't even bear to touch the waters.

"You know how much grievance the ocean had bestowed whenever I attach someone in every story I know about it; she kept on drowning, anticipated on how deep the ocean is, every time his eyes fall in crescent"

From all that I had  sought
in distress
should I digress a stress
that you may be distraught
or it would taught you
to see, or to feel
as I stay up with you
'till dusk, 'till dawn.

A ghost you see
a reflection that keep
coming back
lurking in shadow and dust
no matter what the cause,
it wouldn't consume.

We are both clueless when time
separates us; I wonder how you fell asleep each night and how good or tough your work is, when you have to forget me temporarily.

I wonder how I could bear this imaginary gap between us,
how I long to stretch this yearning arms on you.

It is a long way process
to see myself, to meet myself
where I left my destructive part

I can't step out of it
but I have to leave.

I don't even see you last night
on those vestiges where I reminded myself to come back,
we're on a same block
but on a different path.

This city and its people
left a sentiments and memories,
little cracks and a stowaway--
An element of surprise.

Young and nothing to lose,
she is a monochromic innocence
fragmented muse
and delicate to show her inner self.

Blooms and garden of thorns
for you, i am a mirage in storm
the reflections you see through mirror
the silver light glowing through your face.

I am a bright side
with impecabilities
the light you have ever seen
after an infinite darkness.

I am a song you heard
in your dream
for you, i am a perfect distraction
in state of clarity.

For you, she could go worse
like an angel at her fall
hunted by fearless shadow
for you, she could be your muse.

Meet me
when the sun
didn't enlighten us,
but i'm not telling you
to keep us
as a secret.

Let's hide on
the shadow of sun,
let's talk about
our lives
and how we live like this.
Let's think,how we will
shown up on them,
let us show them
how we stand.

Meet me
when the sun
is glowing for us,
tell me if
you want to be
with me
as long as
the sun is shinning
and the world is spinning.

I followed the vestiges of your footsteps,
everything is a chrysalis of memories and forgetting.

It was you,
who unfolds a life halfway through my existence; I wish I wasn't there in your forgetting.

I'd wish to know, if we're only an idea of tall tales that meet the skeletons in both our closets and thus, it solely goes romanticizing my tarnished land.

In fury, my escapism brought me home away from home and there he was, he's the familiarity I'd wish, I never know.

So dear, he's already 'a home',
I'd live and die at times he's all I have and so this borrowed chance, as to what I afeared of, my love is building; a labyrinth, I'd never wish to escape.

She have never been into things such as growing a garden, they say her potential will have to be reached by a streak of light draping through the window pane.

she builds her greenhouse and collected some seeds, she doesn't sort if she'll grew by season or if it's a monstrous plant— she just want to see a lot of butterflies that she have never seen before.

she remain unimpressed, seeing a hues full of periwinkle and blues, roses and thorns decorated beautifully by her fragile hands, you can see on her plain tone the visible traces of paper cuts and ink blotch.

one day, a boy visited her garden, he grew fond and perpetrated on every flower she had. they sat on an empty, unfurnished room, filled with his paintings and brushes, not seem to notice the one uncleaned palette she used and left forgotten. She watched the boy as he paints, as if he knew every detail of his magic, it reminds her of the days she spent the same way, on how she loves it, tenderly in her heart— she said he was a stray butterfly, everything on him is luminous.

they spent their time there, little did the boy knew that she loves everything he had done on the garden. She wonders how a little misadventures were found in a wild wood.

I saw many people who had a place in my heart once and now they're just an unforgiven memory.

This is a warfare;
                               we keep  it in photograph,
                               we keep it in pages,
                               we keep it a secret.

                              I thought I was a keeper

and then everything is heavenly
                                  You are beautiful at daytime,
                                  and shining bright at night.
                                  "You are ethereal"
                                                       ­          the distance is an animosity
                                                       ­          though, we keep on
                                                                ­ reaching  
                                                    ­             It is not about the
                                                             proximity
                                                                ­Yearning; we were still
                                                                ­looking at the same sky.

I thought I could keep you (as I keep everything about you)

you wouldn't  be able to held the sky as it was meant to be ethereal

I grew up longing to be found
on a deserted place where the stories
told 'I shouldn't have meant to be there', counting the dead until I become them. I was written on old houses as I was left haunted and reminisced on melancholic belonging.

However, it is her rising, the beginning, the becoming.

I am a chest filled with lullabies, it is my reaching to the world to heal my heart, and a calling of the ocean, where my love belongs.

He always left me hollowed,
A blank space
A black hole
I am buried deep below.

He always left me hollowed,
when the sky is blue
and our hands are reaching
when the sun is yearning
when our hearts are beating.

Fifteen hopes
and twenty dreams
it was a vestige
of my mistake,
once I lived in a
forbidden place
of dark games.
There was a window
of my realization
I saw my old friend
smiling from the past.

I open the door,
outside it was
a memories
built by shattered promise
made by rogue
and there's no place
I could go back.

Nothing felt like mine
when everything reminds me
of how our worlds are interconnected,
even if someone else had crossed that line before.

You had your brave shoulders
next to mine, arms were tired
and all you ask for is perseverance.
There's a part of me
grew bittersweet,
that still haunts me like memorizing
each streets you used to walk to
and counting my footsteps
through the stop sign.

Are you even aware that I ran away
when I couldn't bear any pain,
but my cold feet stopped
when you ask me to stay.

I told you, I couldn't imagine
I would be with someone like you
and now I couldn't imagine my life without you.

Words came out
in mind and soul,
they aren't out of
nowhere.
It is an interpretation
of belonging.

Our words
are mind's guide
to a wandering soul.

My thought kept haunting me

I loved you, like the calm ocean
a deep blue uncertainty.

I loved you, like a pure rage of storm;
that's when I found myself.

that's when I felt truly alive.

This love has morphed differently within me, heaven struck, caught up by the heights of my devotion, laced with enchantment. I speak your name with longing, as if my words were haunting interludes, in the cacophony of souls whispering a multitude of wishes to a body that once lived — an old figure of myself.