I won't be plucking off petals from my rose
like those lovesick Romeos and Juliets on park benches.
I don't need luck and petal symmetry to believe.

I won't litter the petals
like lipstick marks or blood stains on white sheets.
I won't be placing them in a vase half full,
that's temporary.

I have a better plan in mind,
a better way to immortalize
my rose. Deep within a gift,
pressed between pages
is a symbol of your love to me.

i was told that she moved like the wind,
and her eyes carried whispers from the ocean that
her hands breathed like the leaves but

it wasn't till i saw her in the lights,
dancing as the music swirled around
speaking like she could chase away sorrows and
singing because the world depended on her words, that

her voice reminded me of the home where i belong.

We believe scars are weaknesses.
They are not, they shouldn’t be.
They should be prizes and trophies
To hang on walls and dust everyday
And when someone comes over you can say,
“Look, I was there. I tried, I fought,
and I survived. I lived.
I am alive.”

i find myself wishing,
that history does not repeat itself.
especially not
on the anniversary of sad events.

since it was almost exactly a year ago
that tragedy struck and lives
came crashing to the ground.

almost a year ago, and i don't want to see
the tears and pain resurface from cracks again.

Let me tell you about that fleeting moment
when I felt an emotion
that I cannot describe.

LIGHT.
drowsy and switched on by that little flutter in your heart,
the shine glides across the space
till it has molded the world
around it into warmth.

DISTANCE.
far enough to be another world, yet just close enough to be real.
the warmth is out of reach now
but we’ll get there someday, soon, but
the metres between turn my sight blue.

BODIES.
his hands twirling her and her hands guiding him,
their movements spell out words and raw beauty.
so while the world falls deaf to my ears and
their shadows dance with them-
I hear echoes of laughter, clinking glass and…love.

HAPPINESS.
I feel it all at once, yet the words escape my mind before I can
make a sound to spit them out, I don’t understand
what this feeling is.

It’s a wish to see that happiness reflect in my life,
a wish to not fear the future.
So I, a boy with the world at my fingertips and
a cloud over my heart,
describe that fleeting moment
in an attempt to understand it.

I am my biggest enemy,
I am my best friend.
I push myself of the ground
And criticize my self.

Then I'm the stretched out hand
Who picks me and brushes me off
I say the words that inspire me
Make me cry at first, and then laugh.

No one can take me away
From the person residing within me.
It tells me what to say,
Also the correct way to behave.
It sees what my eyes see,
it understands what I feel.

The truth is, I rule me.

it's just the empty thunderbolts, my darling
they wouldn't dare ruin our evening.

all the energy they would've held surrounds us now.
all their spark is between our fingertips, their fires in our heart,
the light in our eyes.

they're just the empty thunderbolts, my darling
and the thunder a proclamation of my love.

It's easy to get obsessed with something
that isn't good for the self.

For me, it was you.

You were that ****** song,
I couldn't get out of my head.
That type of chocolate,
I could never get enough of.
Those hours I overslept.
That escape I found,
every time I wept.

Those day dreams.
Those feelings.
That smile.

None were good for me,
yet that is what I'm craving.

I only desire
To escape this insanity
Which I held dear
long ago.

Now I scream
For a sane mind
And a perfect soul.

how do I love myself,
when I can see myself inflicting pain
on those who loved me first?

A whirlpool of emotions and thoughts
Swirls in my mind
And I can barely swim on
When confusion reigns
And bewilderness holds
The crown
That is when I pull out my sword.
I must cling
and in no condition leave
That one emotion
which will keep me going on.
which will motivate me
inspire me
and keep me right here
And make me strong.

Part 1

Because I was a part of my mother once,
and her essence is cherry blossoms,
her mind is  streaming warmth
and nothing that is from her can be insignificant.

Look behind me,
I don't have wings
simply a bare back and spine.

But oh, how I wish to fly.

Somewhere there is a piece of paper flying over an ocean,
over mountains no one can measure or name,
over houses that haven't felt a heartbeat
in years.

It's a paper with your initials and mine,
a message to me from you.

And while it travels over magic and forgotten adventures,
I sit in anticipation for those strokes of ink
on paper, and the warmth of your fingers
with skylines in my sight.