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12.2k · Apr 2014
ji Apr 2014
Let me stifled by your scent
And drown in your sweet bitterness;
I'll let my heavy lids lay flat
As you take away my spirit
To where you call tranquil and calm.

As my tired shoulders fall gently,
I am filled with your warm caress
Along with nostalgic portraits
Frame by frame running in my head -
Ever vivid and enthralling.

The consoling embrace you give
Alleviates grief and its pang
Even just for a little while.

As I savor your poignant sting,
I can hear my heart as it sings,
"Sorry, but I just can't grow wings."
6.8k · Jul 2015
Sinking and Falling
ji Jul 2015
You have sunk deeply in my heart and more deeply still each day like sinking in a bottomless quicksand.

And I think I'll fall endlessly to your love like an airplane descending but never lands.
6.5k · Jan 2014
ji Jan 2014
Hail, dreamcatcher, hear now my thoughts
Free my soul of fond hopes of naught;
Of brokenness these dreams had taught;
Of ceaseless pain this life has brought.

This heart is weary of shouting;
Of being empty yet drowning
In insipid words befuddling;
In ashed promises succumbing.

**** this anguish feasting inside
That this shiv may be put aside;
These damp sheets be given a rest,
And that may bliss in this room nest.

Hail, dreamcatcher, hear now my sigh,
The words I'll mutter as lie
Below the grass, hear my cry;
My soliloquies ere I die.

The dreams that I wove with your strings
Are dreams that 'til I slumber clings;
Dreams that on stars I'll be wishing
That I with the stars be dreaming.

Farewell to you, dear moon, I say
Awake I can no longer stay
In peace on this bed I shall lay,
Never again shall I rise, I pray.

So dreamcatcher croon me to sleep
And let me drown in thoughts so deep
Don't wake me up, I had enough
Last wish: I be gone in a puff.
5.4k · Feb 2016
After the Carnival
ji Feb 2016
I wish my love is your first breath
   of crisp, fresh air;
the first glimmer of sunlight,
   lining the horizons of dawn,
      as the lights of the Ferris wheel burn out;
your lips stained with nostalgia,
   kissed with the cherry tint of candy floss;
the smell of clean fabric against your skin--
   I wish I am--
      fragranced with the scent of popcorn--
after the carnival.
now read from bottom to top.
4.0k · Jul 2015
5:22 PM
ji Jul 2015
Your eyes are what spoke to me the loudest, as it did when I first caught your stare. And I still fall for your wink and your lids' sweet fluttering, even right now, at 5:22, looking at your photograph.

I crave for the sound of your voice - gentle and affirming. I remember how each time we talk on the phone your words would slide its way down my throat right through my heart, melting it smooth. I still fall for your laugh, even right now, at 5:22, looking at your photograph.

I ache for every word you've spoken, smitten with tender affection, to again escape your lips. I think I've never told you before how your good-nights are more comforting than the softness of my bed. I still fall for your puns, even right now, at 5:22, looking at your photograph.

I sit here two thousand miles from you, sharing the same sunset view. I whisper to the winds to carry these words to you, and bask the air that you breathe with my kisses too. Then maybe it wouldn't be that far of a gap, even right now, at 5:22, falling in love with your photograph.
2.9k · Mar 2016
ji Mar 2016
I tried to make the best pudding I could
     out of the crumbs of time you give me.

It tasted like half-baked smiles and salty tears.
2.5k · Jun 2015
The Diver
ji Jun 2015
My heart fell and sank deeply at the sight of you,
     like an anchor hurled into the sea.

And then you spoke and I'm reminded of the waves;

You're the sea and I'm a fish,
     the salty waters I long and crave.
You cast yourself in people's lives. Some swim, but you dive. Then you drown but don't die, and then you knew: even divers swim back ashore to survive.
2.3k · Jul 2015
Memories and Feelings
ji Jul 2015
Once there was a maiden who has a gardener as her wooer. And the maiden love him too.

The maiden is affluent in money called Memories. And the gardener has flower bounties called Feelings he gives daily to the maiden. Every morning the gardener would knock on the maiden's door and hand her the most beautiful picks of Feelings his garden has. Some days it's a posy of 'I love you's'; or a nosegay of 'I miss you's'. Other days it's a wreath of 'kisses' and 'hugs'. But he knew what she likes best - it's the bouquet of the four. And every time, the maiden would insist to pay him with a Memory, but sweetly he would shake his head no.

Until one morning, she heard no knock on the door nor there were flowers on her porch. She waited and waited, but nothing came and he never arrived.

Days became weeks, there were no signs of the gardener still. The Feelings he gave her started to wilt, but many remain abloom.

"I wish the next time he knocks, he would hand me a bouquet of 'I love you's' with a coupling of 'I miss you's'," *she whispered between sighs.
"It's not my favorite arrangement, but those I favor among all."

And the skies seem to hear her wish. There were three gentle knocks on the door. She smiled and stood in front of it, wishing that it's really him. And it was.

But he had no bouquets in hand. No posies nor nosegays nor wreaths.

"There is a new damsel in town, and to her I chose to give the Feelings, but she don't seem to care," he explained. "My Feelings piled up on her lawn but she never opened the door."

He paused.

Then earnestly,
"My garden is bare of flowers, and I ran out of Feelings to give you," he continued. "But if you would allow, could you hand me a little Memory so I can restore my garden and offer you bouquets of Feelings again?"

*Then she gave him every Memory she has.
Someday I know you will run out of feelings for me. And maybe someday - to have it again - you'll return and ask for a memory. In case, my dear, just say. And I will give it all away.
2.2k · Dec 2015
ji Dec 2015
I tremble at the thought
that you might get drunk
with too much of me,
and that my sweet-bitterness
that you once so craved
just start running stale;
that you'd wake up
with a hangover to
some other different ale.
2.2k · Mar 2016
ji Mar 2016
No matter how painful the words I write,
     or how perfectly beautiful they rhyme,
     no phrase, no line, no verse, no time
     or poetry in the world could bring you back.

And I'll miss you forever, like how the shore
     unspeakably misses the kisses of the tides
     as they recede;
     and like the corals on the ocean beds,
     you are all I need.
i miss you terribly.
2.2k · Jul 2015
A Day With You
ji Jul 2015
A day with you is saying good morning to the sun with cups of coffee. Long walks, but longer talks, and feeling tingly. Pillow fights on white sheets in underwear with yellow smileys; bacon and eggs and pancakes and sausage, and peanuts with no grease.

A day with you is seeing the dusk with rainbows. Chocolate ice creams and cones and mangoes; KitKats and Cadburys and Oreos, with Lego House and marshmallows. Or maybe cookies and cola and not milk, while I hold your hand of silk. Or maybe some singing or dancing or playing the guitar. Or painting a portrait of the moon and stars.

A day with you is a night in July and rainy. And kissing you with some hugging too and three spoonfuls of honey. Then I'll cradle you, with lights out, as you doze sweetly beside me. I'll hum you to sleep with tender pattings on the hips, and watch your eyelids fall gently.
2.2k · Jul 2015
ji Jul 2015
I like whites - clean and crisp. White shirts and white sheets. White mugs and warm milk and white winter rains. But if you were coffee, I'd spill you over every white and love every stain.

I like organized - neat and nice. Made bed and matching blankets. Tidy shelves and closet. But if in my room you're the clutter, I don't think I'd ever fix it.

I like stories and poems, novels that get me hooked. I like plots with twisted endings, and my heart being took. But if you were a word in a chapter, I'd rather read you forever - over and over - than finish the book.
2.0k · Feb 2016
ji Feb 2016
"You're quite narcissistic, I know.
And I only wish I'm the reflection you see,"
he paused, then whispered,
"fall in love with me."
2.0k · Jul 2015
If Loving You is Blue
ji Jul 2015
it'd cut through my sour, orange moments, as my blue sheets remind me of you. My pastel mug wouldn't remind me of tea, but your confectionary lips in lieu.

Contrarily, I'd destroy my like for maroon and I'd never have my eyes red. I'd hate every crimson flower, and disdain every green. And I'll stay away from cherries and tangerine.

But loving you is not a condition, but an overwhelming actuality. Loving you is blue. Like the subtle and unchanging hue of the skies, the tint of the ocean and its tides, I will forever love you.
2.0k · Jul 2015
ji Jul 2015
I tried to stop it once, but I failed.
I tried to dry them once, but I failed.
Because of you, I greatly failed.
And no worse a failure can be than I.

I have failed to stop my pen from
       continually bleeding your name.

*And I failed to dry these pages,
       soaked in thoughts of you.
1.9k · Dec 2015
ji Dec 2015
Getting up on mornings without you is not waking,
just loveless man sleepwalking.
1.9k · Aug 2015
ji Aug 2015
My tears have made puddles, which then turned into oceans, until there's no more land. I didn't make a boat. I thought it would subside, but now I'm drowning in the rising tides.
1.9k · Feb 2014
32 Points Perfection
ji Feb 2014
Perfect* is cold showers in the morning

Perfect is long walks 'til your feet are too weary to take another step

Perfect is working out 'til you faint

Perfect is my hands around my thighs

Perfect is my elbows bigger than my arms

Perfect is my ribs like guitar strings

Perfect is my thumb and my pinky meeting at my shoulders

Perfect is my hips like anchors below my waist

Perfect is my spine like thorns on my palms

Perfect is my collarbones like hinges on my throat

Perfect is the immense gap between my thighs

Perfect is a diet soda and a ******* for a whole day

Perfect is 16 bites a bitsy cupcake

Perfect is guilt in every swallow and throwing up afterwards

Perfect is slits on my wrist after eating

Perfect is my clothes that fit like blankets

Perfect is the scale on 35lbs

Perfect is to be lighter than air

Perfect is size after zero

Perfect is lying to yourself

Perfect is denying you're starving to death

Perfect is 21 calories for a whole week

Perfect is not eating

Perfect is must not eat

Perfect is laxatives and diuretics

Perfect is empty

Perfect is skinny

Perfect is reality in a trance

Perfect is just-breathing

To embrace perfection is to live inside a dead body with an empty soul;
To tacitly prepare for your grave while struggling everyday to survive

Perfection is your frame in a frame

*Perfection is death
1.8k · Aug 2015
ji Aug 2015
The golden burn of dusk
   kisses my window panes and walls;
On table tops it rests,
   the moon and stars it calls.

Far above the horizon,
   the honey sun waves good-bye
With sighs of blues and purples,
   its glory's end is nigh.

The birds sing their last songs
   atop the birches' bough
And the sunset leave us thinking,
   "What do we really know?"
In another world it is rising,
   but right here it hides from view,
burying its face, so when morrow comes
   we can marvel its glory anew.
1.7k · Feb 2015
The Beauty Queen
ji Feb 2015
She walks on velvet, swaying hips
Flashes a grin, the poise she keeps
And for her query:
     What makes you happy?
She waves her hand ever gently.

She walks in skin and bones collapsing
Flashes a grin, but near to fainting
With this she answers:
     Loose clothes and shivers
She eats her dinner in reverse.

Blood is her carpet, blades are her sash
She keeps on walking - feline
Fits the crown of purging - rash
'Til she gets to be the beauty queen.
1.7k · Mar 2016
Unsent Letter No. 315
ji Mar 2016
The worst way to lose somebody is to be, in his heart, ordinary; to be his luxury turned duty.

And the things he do, he does them to keep up with you, but not anymore to keep you.

This is when you'll know you've lost him. This is when it will hurt. But only until this you'll know you've loved deeply.

Your lips would blister with prayers for his return, but no poetry in the world could touch his soul and guide him back to your arms--

none unless the words are yours.*

P.S. *You'll only truly lose him when you start to think that maybe after all, you've never truly loved him. And that is also when you'll lose yourself-- to your own make-believe.
Unsent Letters would now be my series.
ji Oct 2016
Watch how the white birds float
On fjords, eternally reposed—
The rustles will whisper
        how they keep pristine composure:
                 "Follow the glassy estuary streams,
                  where swans sleep quiescent darlings
                  of their ivory shrouds."
1.6k · Oct 2016
ji Oct 2016
read my body like a bible,
let your tongue be the bookmark
that browses my pages,
and embeds between my spine
right where it shouldn't;
say my name like a prayer,
and i'll worship the shrine
under your stomach
like a god— my god!
let me lick the statuette
1.5k · Aug 2015
ji Aug 2015
I never thought it's possible, to have such
       deep fondness for somebody that you
       cannot spell the word 'love' without her
       name; that the word 'love' has become her.
1.5k · Feb 2016
ji Feb 2016

                  have your


1.5k · Oct 2015
ji Oct 2015
When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut. I told myself, "I want to see the stars and the planets up-close." I think probably we all had that stage in childhood where we all wished to be space walkers like Armstrong.

But eight years later, now I don't wish to be an astronaut anymore. I wish to be a writer. Because I have already seen all of the stars and the nebulae in your eyes. I wonder how they all got condensed in those two small circles like the moon. I whisper to myself, "It's so lustrous."

I already felt the weightlessness of space in your kisses, and your hugs are like oxygen tanks -- I need them to breathe. And when I see you-- just looking at your gait and smelling your perfume is even more enthralling than being in a launching rocket ship that pierces through the clouds and breaks the invisible mantle that separates the Earthly skies from the cosmic tapestry called "the rest of the universe". And I float away from reality and just revolve around the idea of you and nothing more like how the satellites of Jupiter revolve around it almost eternally.

I don't need to see the constellations anymore nor the planets or the meteors because I have seen them all in your skin-- I painted them on your skin. Others might call it bruises, but they do not understand that your body-- your neck, your arms, your chest are empty spaces and it'd feel like a sin not to embellish them with love marks -- the bruises that do not scream pain but* I love you's. *And I love you.

More than all the splendor of space, I still find your hair and the arch of your back and the gaps between your fingers and your clavicles so much more beautiful. Even this galaxy we live in seem to be unfit for its name: Milky Way. I think that name suits better your complexion alone. And when you smile-- oh, your smile! -- it is more radiant than the brightest comet and more warm than the hottest blue star; even the sun in the most arid summer-- it just gives me sunburns, but your smile, only yours, renders my heart melted.

When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut because I wanted to see the space. But now I don't anymore. Because I learned that astronauts are just spectators and I want to write about the universe. I want to write about you.
1.5k · Jan 2016
The Guitarist
ji Jan 2016
I am he
   who blistered and
   purpled his aching
   fingers, upon playing
   the saddest, dissonant
   melodies out of
   his old, untuned
   guitar, whose strings
   of somber used-to-be's
   he ceaselessly strummed
   and plucked under
   the dullest starless
   night sky; and
   sing of his
   weeping heart the
   poetry of melancholy
   notes half-composed.

It is me--
   the lone guitarist
   on broken avenue
   who never stopped
   playing his love
   song of rue
   since you left--
   whose only lyrics
   is your name
   and your words
   he dearly kept.
1.4k · May 2016
Small Talk
ji May 2016
Your words of tender, mellow slur
are furls and wisps of thin, streaming clouds;
       dancing ecstatic,
       swaying hypnotic,
       sailing on the somber oceans of the wind--
then nestling as mist
   at the doors of these still lake lips of mine,
   hankering to swallow and wallow the low-resting, quiet, ambrosial fog.
1.4k · Aug 2015
10-word Heartbreak
ji Aug 2015
I'm loving and missing you,
but your loving is missing.
1.4k · Feb 2014
The Taste of Death
ji Feb 2014
I'll stain my wrist cherry red,
I'll hang myself with angel hair [1]
I'll jump off a choco cliff
And smell bacon in the air.

Drown myself in sea of grease;
In lard or melted butter
Get lost in a Balck Forest,
Eat fondant rocks for dinner.

Stick Butterfinger down my throat
Until I can no longer breathe
Peel off my caramel skin
And run through a pile of wheat.

I'll fly my way to Sweetzerland
And then I will jump off the plane;
Railroad trip with Willie Wonka
Then get myself crushed by a train.

I'll put the gun on my temples,
Pull the trigger, out the whip cream
Roll on hot coal with Tootsie [2]
Up in the skies you'll see our steam.

I'll grate my fingers just like cheese
And dice my arms like tomatoes;
Chop the onions, hold your tears
Mash my head like potatoes.

I'd stuff myself just like turkey
A big, fat one on Thanksgiving
I'd eat to death ruthlessly
So full that I'll be choking.

Fillet myself, eat my own meat
Or not, 'cause that would be so gross
I'll poison myself instead
A drop on my wine - let's toast!

I'd overdoze on sedatives
Each pill the size of Jellybeans
Or cross the road with closed eyes
Or live in a garbage bin.

Get under attacked by hornets
As I steal their precious honey
Huge marshmallows in my mouth
Die playing Chubby Bunny.

Ride a ship on a raging sea
Of milk or strawberry smoothie
And I'll let my boat be wrecked
Then feed a whale with cookie.

Get free popcorn with your ticket
As you watch me die, sit back
Don't stand 'til it is over,
Enjoy the show and relax.

This is what you always wanted -
See me lying on my coffin
I'll make you watch in total dread
As I **** myself with muffins.

And when I die, donut tell her -
My sweetest darling - Baby Ruth
She might slap you out of shock,
You might lose not just one tooth.

From the grave, I'll send you Kisses
My dear old Cad, bury me [3]
Give this body a Reese's [4]
From food that is it's enemy.

I have here a cake for you
Open your mouth, gently chew,
Close your eyes and hold your breath,
Savor now the taste of death.
[1]Angel hair is a kind of pasta.
[2]Tootsie Roll

I've been killing myself lately.
I've been eating again.

***** anorexia. ***** EDNOS. ***** eating.

***** guilt.
1.2k · Nov 2014
Lily Willie
ji Nov 2014
Lily Willie, I am hungry
Do you have a cup of coffee--
A glass of milk, a butter cookie
Or a chocolate-dipped strawberry?

Lily Willie, I feel queasy,
But burgers are too greasy,
And pizzas are too cheesy
How about macaroni?

*Lily Willie, are you silly?
It's just a bite, a little candy
A slice of cake, nothing fancy
My head is numb, vision's hazy

I feel cold, but it's not snowy
My lips are purple, fingers chilly
My eyes are empty, so is my tummy
Lily Willie, I feel hungry.
No, skinny is not the new beautiful.

*thank you, andrea, for helping me construct this stanza
1.2k · Aug 2015
Napkin Stains
ji Aug 2015
His neck like napkins,
and her kisses are coffee;
she stained him love,
but stained him scanty.
1.2k · Apr 2017
red hands
ji Apr 2017
his touch is boiling metal,
sweltering to delirium
that wherever his hands of red
take grazing, is swallowed
by the hell fire of his fingers

so once
he caught his lover
in his arms

so that the flames
frenzied upon all him
to hysteria
and incinerated
like wildfire.
what did i ruin what did i ruin what did i ruin what did i ruin what did i ruin what did i ruined our love ruined what did i ruin what did i ruin what did i ruined nothing what did i?
1.1k · Nov 2015
ji Nov 2015
I'm afraid of the day that you'll only hug me out of duty.
1.0k · Jul 2015
Before I Close My Eyes
ji Jul 2015
Last night, before I close my eyes, my heart whispered me something. It told me to love you endlessly.

My lids finally shut as I lull myself to the thought,
           *"I will. And I always will."
1.0k · Aug 2015
Sweet tooth
ji Aug 2015
I have a sweet tooth
   for chocolate
   chip cookies

And you told me--
   you have not
   even a

But I say,
   your lips
   are just as right.
1.0k · Nov 2015
ji Nov 2015
"You know what makes every story pretty?" he asked.


"Unpredictability. One day, I don't even know how your hands feel; the next, they are all I ever want to hold."

"You know what makes unpredictability pretty?"

"What?" he asked.

*"That your every syncopated heartbeat is my love story."
1.0k · Jul 2015
ji Jul 2015
I want to hold your hand and feel its creases, the same that wrap around your pen. I want the immensity of your palm mantled on mine, its warmth that bruises my knuckles. I want to feel your fingers, and kiss the cold away its tips.

And if in every entanglement my touch could whisper, it would reassure,* "I love you. I'll forever hold your hand. I'll forever adore the solace I find in the tightness of your grip. I love you - and I am not letting go. So please don't."
1.0k · Nov 2014
Valedictory Address
ji Nov 2014
I shouldn't have thought of it
Shouldn't have picked up my phone
Nor have told you I'm alone
But I did.

I shouldn't have said hello
Shouldn't have let you know
Shouldn't have said it
But I did.

I should not have told you
How I long to hear your voice--
     And heard it above the noise
How my being so craves hue.

But I did, yes, I did
Because I miss you
But what you did-- that's what you did--
Didn't say you miss me too

As wreath of daisies wilt and dry
So do my heart shrivel and die
Drunken with rue-- spirit downcast
Tainted by blues painted by past.

I shouldn't have said it again--
Your cold reply a stab to I--
Rot this soul that's already sunken
But I risked-- a languid sigh.

I shouldn't have done it
Shouldn't have bid
My last 'I miss you'
But I did.
It is not what you said nor the manner how you said it, but the reason why.

Everything will soon be well. Thank you for your stay.
997 · Jul 2015
ji Jul 2015
You are the grass of Spring, and loving you is like Fall. My heart is the leaves in golden blush, the hue of sunkissed skin in Summer; wrinkling, as if shy of the breeze, and softly toppling from boughs, avid to kiss the ground; and upon falling - shivering, as if caressed by the white dust of Winter.
Who would have thought loving could be so bemusing as this? Like the Sahara with snow, or getting seared in the heat of Alaska. It is only by loving that things don't go as to what they have been all along. Like seeing no sparkle in your eyes, but stolen auroras in all the skies. Beautiful. Rousing. Imspossibly possible.
975 · Apr 2016
The Most Tragic Tale
ji Apr 2016
is hidden in the lungs of a lover
who lost himself                          
in the war of keeping his love;  
in  his tears yet to stream his cheeks,  
over the carcass of the only dead soldier  
that is his own heart.                                    

And the coldest, most macabre ******
lies between the partition of the lips    
of the one who left-- willingly.    
No good-byes.                                
No apologies.          
Just plain frigid fingers          
that smell like heartbreak.        

This is the epic unwritten in history,
unseen in televised documentaries;
partly because of its gruesome morbidity,  
and partly of its awful simplicity.                
A traceless killing:                                          
no blood,                            
no stains,                            
no weapons,                      
just lies.                              
Seamless all from the start--                        
just one mangled heart.
963 · Mar 2016
ji Mar 2016
Your breath is my nicotine,
your perfume, my smoke;
it warms my within--
a little nudge, a gentle poke

sends my sober mind ecstatic
and my drunken soul awake,
my thumping heart, erratic
and my rickety bones break

to the sound of your voice--
is my alcohol and wine
topples me out of poise,
stumbling never felt so fine

is your stare; i'm defenseless
as i stand before you
are my vice and addiction,
my downfall and destruction.
953 · Sep 2015
ji Sep 2015
I promise you the next time I write,
   I would write your name in place with mine.

So that people would look for you and not me,
   and they would see, my love, the reason why I write.

As they gaze at your face, they would understand.
As they hear your voice, they would know
   that many a next time I would write,
   but only of one they are sowed;
   and even without you,
   I wouldn't for another.

I'd just retell our story. Your stories. How my heart has been taken. The joys. The frowns. Our very endeared moments. The tragedies.

I would retell it in a hudred different ways, but I don't think I could write for another because only you and your kisses give my pen its ink and my words the power.

I would retell it.

But I wish I never should.
951 · Dec 2015
ji Dec 2015
I wish you knew that
I wouldn't love
if it wasn't
946 · May 2015
I Fell in Love With a Star
ji May 2015
.  *I fell in love with a star, there suspended in the heavens. I fell in love with its light, its brights, its might. I gaze and catch glimpse of the galaxies. In its twinkle my heart sinks.

   I fell in love with a star; here I stare from afar. Can't barely touch it, can't barely feel it, can't barely cradle it. But as sure as the sun would rise at daybreak, I can see it. And each time -- oh, every single time! -- I am mesmerized.

   I fell in love with a star, who from above watches the earth. I know somehow it sees me, somehow it hears me, somehow it knows I exist. Somehow it guides me; to somewhere it leads me, and I cannot resist - to the sublime burning of its glory, I stand dazed.

   And I wish that would suffice my longing for it to once wrap me in its light and quench my craving for an embrace, even if it means burning myself upon seizing a fireball in the horizon, so be it. I wish it would, but it wouldn't.

   I fell in love with a star which I sometimes dread for its beauty that I cannot grasp. I want to feel it between my fingers and lingering on my lips. I'd invite it in my heart and open my chest. But all I can do is gape from afar -- the chastisement for loving a star.
937 · Jan 2017
ji Jan 2017
When love is the spine of the universe,
   you are its heart, and I its body.
I contain you
   in me.

But without you, my own,
   I shall not live nor shall the universe
   know about love,
   for there will not be your words
   that is the blood, slowing through my veins.
937 · Aug 2015
The Tree
ji Aug 2015
Love is climbing up a tree
and falling with a scraped knee.
But you don't mind the scars;
you still climb up with glee,
'cause love is having bruises,
but choosing not to see.
So, once again,
I'll climb
the tree.
901 · Aug 2015
ji Aug 2015
To love is to invite tragedies in your soul, disclosing your heart vulnerable to every pain.

But if love is this beautiful, I think I would smile to even the worst tragedies and say, "Welcome! If you are love, though you bring pain, I wish you never go away."
900 · Jul 2015
ji Jul 2015
I think I'll forever long for your kiss like how the desert longs for rain.
And crave for your touch like how a wound demands pain.

I'll forever ache for your "I miss you", with the tumid wish for things to stay the same;
     like how, from then, each and every "I
            love you" would ache for your name.
890 · Feb 2017
Like Sand Grains in My Hand
ji Feb 2017
On the claw of daybreak is a bridge, they say
     that extends to an everlasting sunrise foray,

     where every morning glory is at the cliff—
     whether they're climbing or descending is a riff—

     of muddied quagmires where a slew
     of sunflowers that on the talons of radiance either died or grew.
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