That small town is my torment
And this city is my solace
The busy streets don’t have room for a pit
And the city lights brighten the darkest nights
The people bustling and hustling even on Sundays
Oh, they don’t even have time for haze
Remembering and forgetting don’t require wit
The best thing this city has taught me about suffering is that I should own it
I did not lose the pain at all
But this city taught me to stand up after I fall.

indie music
playing
out loud
from my
smartphone

cold draft
of wind
coming from
the window

my little
dog
happily
playing with
their
bouncy ball

i guess
the details
are the
most beautiful

people always
ask,
"how was
school?"

or maybe,
"how was
work today?"

why is it not,
"how are
you doing?"

because
that's more
like
listening
rather than
hearing.

it's not that
the camera
can't see
your beauty

it's the fact
that it cannot
fully grasp
that you
are such
a beautiful
soul,
inside
and out

your disheveled yet
soft hair that's been
run through
and through
with my hands

your chest
that heaves
in breaths in a
way to
calm down
the leftover
excitement

your eyes
that look at me
with such affection

your lips
on which
i placed
countless kisses
all over

our hands
entwined ever
so loosely
yet stays
as it craves
the other's
touch

you're so
*******
beautiful

the soul
does not
rest comfortably
until
they have completed
their goals
or
part with a loved
one

guest house
of the
moon,
please
take care
of the one
who departed
from me
who i
cherish
so