How will you define happiness?

You are the hunter
searching for the beam
that glowing,
lurking behind
the straight line,

waiting to become warped
you wish, you're wrapped
on that curve you're looking.

He is the one
you're watching,
the one that your
dream catcher's chasing.

On the woods you haven't left,
your skin is shimmering
on his smile you bet,
you're swooningly alive.

How will you define happiness?

it run as fast as the silver fox
at the most fleeting time----
if you ask me how I define
"happiness"
I'll say it's you.

"As if I was gone away, too far not to yearn from the distance."

The sound of home away from home
is a wake up call on a dismal Sunday morning. It keeps telling me that I have to go but you are still lingering on every corner of this room, you are the faintest light through a window pane as it kindles me out of the dark (somehow).

I wonder how the traffic jams and
the hums of people on the street would bring you home, the crevices of the floor memorize the gaits and creaks of your footsteps, as if it's a map to our place. And how the furniture recognizes the shape of you as your memories are carved on it.

But I wonder why the sound of home away from home is telling me that it's time to go.

The stars are fake,
they are shining upon the sky
And burning everything that touches their beam.

They desire a sand
and you are the hourglass.

I'm sure the multiverse is existing
I'm sure that I got you there
because I miss you every single day
and that feeling links to the other me.
I'm sure this yearning means that we're close in that other world.

I'd been a vessel;
I don't want you
to bear the feeling
of emptiness.

How envy I was
in my past.
when we were rushing the future
and made the present bypassed;
we were left in past.

today I’m gonna make it

getting done with the stuff I left for days or a week, reading a book once again that I excitedly flipped every page, losing a grip on a string of a blue balloon, today I’m gonna spend all of my pennies to my unrequited wish, similarly to a black hole that keeps gnawing my heart; this is what it cost.

Today I’m gonna find out why they are calling us “black swans”. I will make their blood drain, we will dance at them until their eyes glow green. Today I’m gonna make it, but not the girl who cried wolf at night.

We feel those changes
as we're not used to live in this
we still hide our pain that manipulates us
we're still on the process of knowing our
disposition and misbelief
against everything,
I choose you despite my fears.

"Perhaps, we are the people who met each other at a time warp, that's why we are still existing in this millennium."

It's like my heartbeat has been cursed by twenty lifetimes; I would trade all my days, even if it turns from epoch to eon, I will always come back to you.

Hunters come back to haunt
who doesn't exist,
his ghost is still penetrating
through her shallow mind,
for a thousand years of playing knives,
she left there, undesired.

She thought "that would be enough"
it would be his revenge or punishment,
her vial was empty but he was a bloodlust,
words could cut and anguish could be unbearable,  but tears will run dry.

The days turn into dust;
those memories she recollect
if he is seem to love again
maybe, she will find her faith
and her place.

She lost in darkness with broken dreams
she knew, it will only leads her to death;
Why do people keep coming back
on those things they left behind?

When I hear that unheard lullaby
It makes a deep hole inside me
maybe, it reminds me of your heartbeat
If there's any memory in your mind
that I couldn't fill; a gap between us.
It wasn't your fault, if couldn't make it there
In the middle of June.

She saw her world under her feet, crumbling
she allow anything to turn into dust,
she saw her lucky stars, crashing and falling,
her dreams are just daydreams
as her masquerade disintegrating.

She make her flowers bloom,
in a room with gloom,
she saw herself monochromic
on white wall
like a rorschach into her skin.

When her day is plain,
she feels so strange,
as if the tides subside,
it's not beautiful
without the sun's treacherous
shadow that carries the light of moon.

Her mind is a four-trick wheel
like a kaleidoscope spinning in her different shades.

She is the gift of catastrophe,
her secret keeps her real.
You wrap your hands around her,
this injustice won't be seen
but she'll appear as a morning star
if you stare.

You'll see at the end,
the sunlight penetrating her whole
and twilight gnawing the sky.

You'll see at the end,
she's another paradise and burning embers,
she's another midnight and another stranger.

All this time
we are behind
of this two lines
half-face, shy, old and tired
Trying to get overlap
by the time they cross
the whole halfway.

All this time
this point of view
is still into you
up to the mountain's peak,
from oceans and tides
from skies and to its depth,
They crawls back to you.

After all this time
the entire world
is still into you
but then, they are
all mirage to you.

Being with you is like
playing hide and seek
in the woods,
loving you is like
a poetry that lovers
spoke for centuries.

Every word that had been
made was about you,
draping into my skin
a pale and old like autumn leaves.
I've never been beautiful until your mouth traces out my name.

So real,
so real.
as I starve to death
to bathe in bliss
burrow to a skin,
a cataclysm.
unraveling a deep blue, calamitous love
holding on to an anchor (and only him could do that)
open it like a gift;
a suture unfurling my pain,
so real and so does he.

Dark and nostalgic,
like a cold atmosphere of night.
Brighter as glitters,
like the stars up in the sky.
                    Just like you,
beautiful and mesmerizing,
as i could see is your face.
Sweet and minuscule,
as i see my world inside your eyes.
It's pretty amusing,
like my aspiration and strange fascination
that i would like to reiterate
                       to you.
I can keep myself silent
but it's deafening like
deep inside my heart,
it shouts and bellows
that it'll make perfect,
                   to be with you.
You can be hard and fierce.
rough and rugged.
And if your love takes torture,
i can be mellower as what i see in your heart.
Passionate and reckless,
like obnoxious things.
but i can take it easy and simple.
it won't be hard.
It doesn't get any better than you.

he had a special place in my heart, though he had it all.

As a kid, I admired all the celestial bodies that I can put in pages, I can see how the constellations are connected to my veins and how the moon is shaped like your eyes.

The more I grow older, the further I learn to wander in the garden, a wilderness where the islands haven't been named, parallels have intertwined and orbits that have once collided.

Oceans were calling me to test its depth— the calmness of it reminds me of you, the stillness of it brought terror as the deep waters are not moving. you're a scenery in a post card that I could receive but not enough to love me.

Who would have told
that I'm just a memory,
living in you mind.
An imagery of someone else's catastrophe
and a dream come true tragic story,
spattered on every inch of my skin.

And I will be like that, if you never met me.

Beautiful as a dream,
lurking as a culprit,
pages turned to dust
in a great little story line,
he is the next chapter
of violent delight.

Vermillion face,
sugarcoated as veil
promises counts on eyelashes.
Wishes on lucky stars,
he is the thousand words
of a lullaby I wrote,
a song in his dream
whispering in dark.

He is not a daydream
he is not a catastrophe,
falling in love with magic
saves us from broken heart;
he's an another stranger
who can fill my strangeness.

He is the space with clusters of star
and the other part is empty side,
the ocean with endless depth,
for eons it got deeper and deeper
until our same stars have reached its end.

Breathless muse, loose pages
were spattered with strange romance
tearing in fire, and turned to powder.

I see faces and flowers
on loose pages—
it smiles at me from
a crumpled paper, addressed
to the fire, its embers were
keeping it ablaze.

How happy it was to paint the
room blue in the middle of summer,
dancing through the sound of the creaks
under my footsteps— everything is just right.

How treacherous it was, a wistful memory
they were remnants of unsettled stories
and unforgiven departures; I stood
on a shipwreck
where everything is a lost.
the uncertainty would be tall
and I am more will for the fall,
are these things crosses your mind?
I wouldn't bear crossing out your name.

This is how we paint room blue; creeping
on the cracks of the floor, memorizing your
gaits as I follow your traces.

I know, there is no place for a fickle people like me
who painted their thorns beautifully to feel the comfort of no turning back.

And the only thing I remember is the wild wood where I tracing each constellations and searching for your footsteps.

I dance with my bare feet, padding across the floor cracks
it was a good day as the winter's done
I was patiently waiting for the sun to rise.
You have been there and left frozen by
the time I came.

They are left haunted and nostalgic
I couldn't even took a direction without seeing the reflection of your gaze
anticipated by the prism of your paradise,
everybody fall in the thought of it is a rabbit hole; I don't want to dream about you anymore.