Maybe the spaces
between our fingers
doesn't fit perfectly
anymore,
Maybe it's better
to hear lies
than the truth.

Maybe our hearts
are now out of sync,
Maybe the love
we tried to mend
only caused us pain.

Maybe memories
are better be buried,
Maybe it's better
to forget
the future we built.

Maybe your lips
are tired being stuck
on mine,
Maybe your arms
just want to hold
someone else’s spine.

Maybe a 'goodbye'
is just a different
kind of saying 'hello',
Maybe it's time
for us
to let go.

Lonely waters,
I tried to understand —
river flows in your eyes.
Truth be told,
I was another victim
of your lies.

Melancholy,
can be beautiful
and profound.
It wasn’t me
who chose darkness —
the other way around.

They said
it will be
alright,
but they
all left.

Why every single time
I am with you,
my heart trembles,
my arms
wanting to hug you tight
and my lips
always
desire to kiss you
so softly,
that slowly
kills me inside?

The more
we talk,
the more
I fall in love.

You are not
a perfect love poem,
you are full of flaws
and mysteries,
words often rhyme,
often not,
enticing words
are written —
still not enough.

You are
an imperfect
love poem
of an
imperfect poet.

Yet you may not be
a perfect poetry,
still my ink
stained you
with love,
you —
you are perfect
for me.