...Because paper has more patience than people.

My biggest fear
Is that I'll wake up in 10 years
And still miss you

She was a petal. Untouched. Untamed.
She was a beast inside aflame
Half her life she must prove her worth,
Her heart too empty to be considered first.

She is her words --
        the letters in the lines;
        the art tattooed on pages.

She is mystery --
        the secrets and signs;
        the lies and her guise.

She is astonishment --
        the curved pathways in pages;
        the plot twists on the edges.

She is sadness --
        the tracing downfall from a cliff;
        like how she fell for you.

She is madness --
        the explosion of everything;
        the collision of all universe.

She is beauty --
        the art on gritty surfaces;
        convergence of different abstractions.

She is death --
        the poison to your heart;
        the knife before your eyes.

She is life --
        the birth of vivid events;
        the breath of memories.

She is love --
        the beating of each stroke;
        the thing you have from her.

She is her words --
        the black and blue on papers;
        the prisoner of her book.

i think the stars have become jealous of you.
i gaze at you
the way i used to gaze at them.
but what do you expect when i realized
they are small,
and you are infinite.

People who fight
their battles alone
either lose the battle
or lose themselves.