she was everything
to me
she was my
eternity,
my endless jewelry.

i loved, cared for her
and cherished her
with all my kindest,
finest manners.

i chased her for
a couple of years,
had her when i'm
in pain and in tears,
hugged her for oxygen
kissed her for love
and owned her for me.

we broke up last spring
i found a new tranquil
person who found me
when i hid myself.

however,
she came back that summer.
the midnight sun's watching
far from behind
but she came back like
everything "was" nothing,
asking for a new treaty,
getting back and back
from the past.

i was pestered,
when she had
the homecoming.

trees performing
pirouettes,
lights glowing
like stars and embers,
busy feet stumbling
upon the boredom
of pavements,
flickering lights of
airplanes filled the
deep blues of the
pool of clouds
which embraces the
tears of the heavens,
calling out for
the he she can't see.

then,
a sad, sad, sad
glance
was seen
far from a sight.

there he stood
where no one else
could.

there she loses
her ephemeral
self.

in front of the auburn
trees, swaying
with the wind.

she hung herself.
he fell to the ground.
he didn't lose her
she lost him,
once upon a march,
underneath
the wooden arch.

the sensation
of every needle
puncturing the
fair leather
was more than
pleasure.

it's the way
the threads
drip from
those complexion
down to floor,
what a beautiful
enamor.

it's not to ****
the vessel
we don't own.

it's not to hurt
the one thing
we borrowed.

it's just our
escapade
for the
darkest shade
of happiness.

suns and crescents
well-spent
and transparent.

everything rotated
with her,
she,
and me.

everything smiled
like it should,
would,
and could.

everything~
except me and
you.

this is the
hundredth and
two

a poem about
me and you.

suffering, crying,
and hyperventilating.

from the sound
of the unwanted
truth.

hoping that every
sound, words, and
flickers,
would shine light
to what we had, we have
and we won't have.

and yes
this is the hundredth and
two,
and here i am,
saying
i love you.