If I gave you my soul,
would you read each page?
Scribble notes of interest
and know me.
Would you take the time,
to help tape the seams?
Would you mend,
the fragility of my soul?
It tears and rips,
easily, emotionally.

A blue blanket crystalline
                         stretching out to infinity
glistens in the limelight
                         of the sun's affinity.
The horizon paints its' golden rays
                                upon the august rippling waves,
& feathered fiends all sail upwind
                                       For the spectacle the sunset gave~~~

Your eyes are so beautiful but sad.
Ladders on your walls with
"unreachable" peaks encapsulate you.

Chapped lips and blistered palms
symbolize your life's struggles.
Scars coat your arms
as you crawl on such rugged rubble.

God, who lifts his hands to either
punish or reward, heard your prayers.
All your ordeals and prejudices
has burdened you in many layers.

Your eyes are so beautiful but sad.
A rare beauty is what I call you
but I know you wouldn't like that.

Amidst all the troubles of your days,
a compliment might seem like the
last thing to say.

I have seen your trials and denials,
your slavery and hopeless compliance.
I still see the beauty in you and I can
write it in words but cannot sing it in tunes.

But don't worry, pain is temporary
and it would leave soon.

I’ve never seen eyes quite like yours.
So beautiful, yet so desolate.
I wonder what you’ve seen,
I wonder where you’ve been,
I wonder what you see in me.

Your charcoal pupils
and slate-gray irises.
I feel as if I could swim in them--
a pool of gray on a misty day.

Do you see your world in shades of gray,
I wonder.

Glossy with the residues of emotion,
your sad eyes have so much to say.

Do you see your world in shades of gray,
I wonder.

*June 2012

To love me is to accept sleepless nights; to accept immortality; to accept that you love what you cannot mend. In other words (which are not my own):

“I do not know what makes a writer, but it probably isn’t happiness.”

When I was younger, I used to think I was going to be a Star.
Under a spotlight where everyone knew my name...
I was five.

Now, I want shadows and to be as far away as possible.
Hidden and far from consequence,
And even further from myself.
Where my name is not a name,
But just another word without any true meaning.

When I was younger, I used to think I was going to be a Star.
Now, I want to disappear.

I should have jumped overboard when I had the chance.