I am him. He is me.

I looked at him, wondered ---
Does he ever feel the same?
He has my eyes, my nose,
my lips, my hair,
everything from me.
But I wondered,
Does he ever feel the same?

I touched him, he also touched me.
I talked, he also talked,
but I can't hear his voice.
He could predict my actions;
If I laugh, cry,
weep, and smile,
he always imitates me.
But I wondered,
Does he ever feel the same?

We are friends;
the truth and the lie.
Sometimes enemies;
but if I'll **** him, I'll die.
I wondered,
Does he ever feel the same?

I am him. He is me.

If only we exchange worlds...

I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."

Loneliness.... in the empty world
Now I see, nothing at all
Just blank and still, stands the time
Have got no words,to make it rhyme

But still I dream, for an inch of hope
Through the clouds,and behind the rains
While I hear, the songs of chimes
Makes me write, indolent poems

Drops and dews,like beads and pearls
Catch my eyes,throwing my tears
Far behind,the hills so high
Teach me lessons as I see

Broken heart, is beating now
Thoughts that surround, are so new
Fresh and green, is my breath
With these I can, fight the death.....

it may such just a little thing,
yet it can end any sentences,
can caught any attentions
and can stop any questions

it may symbolize
any feelings:
sad,
angry,
or confused

this dot is important
just like anything
in this world,

for it doesn't matter
how big or small
a thing is...

...it's how we give meaning to it.

Arrows fly like darts through the wind
Piercing whatever they can in their path
Just as arrows can pierce a person's skin
Words can pierce just as bad
Sometimes we walk around
And we are not aware of the affect that our words
And our actions have on other's
It is so easy to be malicious sometimes
And to say things that we know might hurt people
Especially when we are feeling threatened
Or when we are angry
Or even to hide ourselves and our own insecurities
Its easier sometimes just to put some one down
Piercing them with our words
And stabbing them with our actions
A look
A glance
A snicker
Avoiding them all together
Purposely going out of your way to hurt some one
To try and get back at them
For some wrong we think they might have done
Its easy sometimes
To send these verbal projectiles
We toss them around all the time
Letting them fall wherever they may
Leaving carnage and destruction in their wake
Harming and scarring those who they hit
Blindly hurting people
Whether it be intentional or otherwise
We need to be more careful with each other
And try to heal the hurt that has been caused
By the random sling
And the wayward arrow
That finds its target
And sinks into their soul

Laments of sadness
in the middle of serene nights,
fragmented hearts
wrangle scrambled minds;

shadowed mistakes, open wounds,
profound mysteries of once reality,
myriad eyes failed to perceive
the intrinsic meaning of a poetry;

arbitrary decisions can lead
loud confusions to imprint,
but an ink of a poet's pen
evokes concealed feelings.

When Crow was white he decided the sun was too white.
He decided it glared much too whitely.
He decided to attack it and defeat it.

He got his strength up flush and in full glitter.
He clawed and fluffed his rage up.
He aimed his beak direct at the sun's centre.

He laughed himself to the centre of himself

And attacked.

At his battle cry trees grew suddenly old,
Shadows flattened.

But the sun brightened—
It brightened, and Crow returned charred black.

He opened his mouth but what came out was charred black.

"Up there," he managed,
"Where white is black and black is white, I won."

I’m walking backwards right?

I can’t quite tell.

I’m trying to go forwards

but I can’t seem to gain enough momentum.

It’s hard when you’re going backwards,

to go forwards that is.

Maybe I should just go backwards,

if there is even such a thing at all.