respect old books
like we respect
people with crown of snow.

they look worn out
but respect them
for they—
were held by a thousand hands,
caught a bucket
of tears,
and stood the test of time.

in every
drop of tears
there is a hidden thoughts,
“please stay…”
“don't go…”
“for once, please choose me…”
there’s no need to
decipher what’s behind those tears,
just look at the person
straight in the eyes,
and you will see
how his/her heart
screams.

sometimes a sob
is louder than a spoken words.

your eyes
are so beautiful,
they are like
William Shakespeare’s sonnets
deep, drowning, flowery
no cliché words can explain.

if this love was a game,
“can i ask you one question”

“what is it?” the receiver answered,

“did i play my part well?”