How wonderfully mysterious the life is
A beautiful architecture,a puzzle,a bliss

I am a composer trying to write his song
But half of me is missing,
Surrounded by the crowd i still feel alone

I feel incomplete,my melody is scarce
I am drowning into notes to which i divorce

My other half...
I wish i knew how she looks like,
I wish i knew where her presence resides
But my soul is still rummaging...

It remains just the desire that deep inside me hides

Listen close baby,
perfect things bleed too.

it's dark all around me
and the air is too think for me to breathe.
even in the mornings, when the sun is high and the birds rejoice in song,
my world is dark.
it's like it takes over me
body and soul
and no one hears my scream or cries and pleas
all they seem to hear is "I'm fine"
but unless "fine" means losing sight of everything and everyone near you
unless "fine" means looking forward to a red ring around my bathtub every night
unless "fine" means feeling absolutely nothing
then I am not fine.

He's not mine but that doesn't stop me from wishing that he was.
It doesn't stop that feeling in my stomach at the mention of his name
It doesn't stop me from watching him when he writes his name on paper
And it **** sure doesn't stop me from imagining what it would feel like to be blessed with his arms wrapped around my skin and our legs entwined
But these are those somewhat carnal thoughts that I only relish in when I'm alone.
The way he speaks- with that deep seductive voice - with such confidence and how his tongue touches his lips because of his perfect articulation drives me crazy.
It
Drives
Me
Crazy.
His swagger; the way he has a slight lean when he steps with his right foot and his hands are always held in his pockets
That makes me swoon.
His smile should be a sin.
There is no way in hell that anything on this earth should be so desirable.
But what makes him absolutely irresistible Is his mind.
That man is so intelligent with so much potential to make me his with a snap of his finger...
He book smarts transcend his street smarts so there is not a conversation you can have with him that he won't have an opinion to contribute.
This man  could easily be mistaken for a Greek god but he is so humble and so genuinely kind.
God was showing off when he made him.
But it's hard for me to imagine him and God in the same vicinity because of the way I desire him
to have his skin touching mine during all of the night hours
To have my fingers so deep in his back
To have his name be the last thing I whisper right before he sends me over the edge and brings me back again.
And to hear him promise through his clenched teeth and tight grip on my hair that he would do it over and over again
No, he's not mine though.
But you would never know that if you knew the way I see him in my mind.

I just want to cut myself open

to see if I bleed
...

to see if I am real

to exhaust all of these exhausting feelings that I feel

and something to relate
all we want is something to relate
because in this salty world
we remains submerged
until someone can say i feel your hurt
until someone can say i know such fates
until someone can say i relate

In soon time, 
his name will be as quiet as a whisper in your mind instead of blaring loud like a concert speaker 
and the ruins he left under your skin 
will be healed and they’ll stop crumbling 
and, sweetheart, your heart will beat at a regular pace.