& so i fill,
with my own
until it’s spilled
& reach the edges
until it’s full enough
that it doesn’t require
any other else—but me
self-love is not selfish
Why do humans tend to appreciate life
when it feels like they are losing their grips?
As the wind unwinds the surface
The Savanna nods to The Shepherd gently
yet every steps he took left deeply-rooted footprints
He carelessly steps on her wildflowers,
and while he rest, he'd pluck some of hers
deep down he knows he's in dead end
The Savanna couldn't help her curiosity,
so she asked where is he heading off
and why he tossed his compass halfway to the ground
On the spur of a moment, The Shepherd fainted
his throat choked; like he wasn't allowed to say a word
little did The Savanna knows he was cursed
"I am no use of you," said The Shepherd.
"I am cursed to walk on my path with me alone;
I am cursed to left my soul in every steps I took
I am cursed to get lost in the midst of unknown!"
The Savanna embraces him tenderly
'tho every time he bawls out and enraged
for countless time she failed but she's persistent
"Let me take care of you," insists The Savanna
"Until your broken compass works again;
until you know where you are heading towards
—until then, let me help you."
And just like that,
The Shepherd found within her
his long-time quest; his very own oasis in the desert
Context: The Savanna is a transition between grassland and the desert, where actually The Shepherd is intended to head off towards the desert to search for the infamous oasis but his compass is broken along the way.
I have written poetries
for as many as I could remember
for people I once loved before
and those who came before you
I used to think that
it's a tribute to turn them into poetries
since I couldn't have them anymore
any other way in my life
At least, I think to myself
I could find a piece of them
inbetween spaces in my poetries
whenever my heart longs for them
Now that I met you
my arms are shaking, trembling
for I couldn't imagine there comes a day
I'd write something about you
because for once after a long journey
I'd give up everything
to turn something as beautiful as poetry
into reality; that is you
With you, I stopped becoming a poet
the scars in your body is a map and a living proof
of how far you've gone and how you survived
despite every madness and chaos that restrain you
and just like waves;
this too shall pass
please hold on a little bit more this time.
you got this
"Do you believe in love?"
she shook her head.
"Well, you know what love does to people—destruction," she whispered quietly.
his astonished eyes stared at her with wonder and confusion.
"Being in love means you'd be willing to sacrifice and risk everything for it; or even worse, fight against anything that against it. All my life, I only witnessed the kind of love that ruin one another."
"Look at Bonnie and Clyde. Look at ******'s love for his Arya race. Look at Confessions of a Shopaholic. Look at Gollum. There's a thin line between obsession and love, and sometimes you can't tell which one is which."
her eyes looked far across the city; as if she was longing for something. perhaps, he thought, it's true that woman is an open book, it's just most men don't read and it's written in ancient Greek.
"But how about your Mom? How about the owner of animal shelter? How about the Environmentalist? How about the firefighters and crisis call center officers?" he responded.
and in that very moment, she knew she was in safe hands.
do you even believe in love?
Your heart is an empty auditorium
during business hours
where everyone's too busy
to even see a play
It’s quiet, silent, and hollow,
like the cemetery at 3 a.m
and you will be frightened
by its silence
But as it heals,
the empty room will become
a hallway full of people
and it will foster
Until the emptiness turned into a parade
where broken parts march back
towards the eternal void,
and fill up the spaces
someday, you will love again