Make me write you a poem
make me take off my shoes
The age of this stage
doesn't quite relate
but I feel thoroughly
all of your capability.
I could be all in my head
or maybe all the old feelings fled
with the scattered thoughts
like how could I have sinned
and go against myself
only to keep you close.
How can I not think,
How can I not want this?
The risks and pains
I'm terribly scared of
til the next things happen
So darling I'm writing you a poem
I'm taking off my shoes
For in this life where we take chances
Maybe, I'll be taking my chance on you.

Hopeful of life's graces
at the same time withered
and stuck at bay.
So I danced with the shadows;
played with cold snow.
Reached for the heavens
to rain patience into this tired heart.
For one sparkle, one smile or maybe one purpose;
but for now I go the mile.
Going on thinking
that maybe now isn't just the right time.
Though time was nothing but spiteful
always landing to something that isn't right.
out of desperation
of maybe's and might's
still hopeless and still lost
In the coldness of night.

Through a loophole
you caught me searching
Looking all alone,
Hoping
Through the cups
Of empty trust
lingering and yearning
with a jaded heart.

As I wonder when
Should the parachute open
convince me;
****** me;
to jump in it again.
With you on the other
from the faraway corner.
Consuming the gap
as if originally there;
yet inaptly belonged.

You're
my piece,
my spark.
But to move
is only way further
drawn to you.

The risks of this
recounting feelings
I can only stay as I am
with this crooked teeth
waiting
'til it's all true or
when it's right.

—a.t.

People leave a lot
Without care
Pretend like we are not
The person that we were

Time and distance
Never compare
to whatever hindrance
wanting to overwhelm

Stare closely.
I feel what to feel.
you lie so deeply
regardless, you conceal.

Hit the ground
and break into pieces
But you stick around
without hugs and kisses

cold maybe
sadness to disagree
that this right here
Is wrong for me

An inaudible lie
obscure but still wanting
There until you turn
to whatever is your calling.

I'm not that tall
to keep my feet underwater
without drowning.
Cause I'm flying
not to keep away
but to catch my will.

But you my little secret,
wherever you go without even hiding,
You're painstakingly stifling
seeing with the joy right now
of souls shrouded upon the other story.

Between age and chances,
I'll keep myself out of the ideally insane.
So dont you say I feel not or I'm too weak
for i'd rather not tell or talk of this risk.

What you're scared of what i'm scared of
When weary and when gone.
Because losing grip isn't rather easy
When you choose what to choose
and who to loose
In secrecy.

A single thread
of hope versus disaster.
breaks and withers
and shadows all that gloom.
a doubled emotion
like an ecstatic current;
so no, please don't...

fading along with thoughts
and the waves of time;
add it up with this and that,
hands intertwined.

wishes and dreams
of pink and purple,
of yellows & greens;
a wide-opened eye
and a closed fist.
how can you ever embrace
that fate you've missed?

to stand underneath all that seeds
and speak of what may be;
who can tell my path
or the road's wrath?

prickly and improper;
it is what they say.
barefoot naked hereafter,
until then daresay,
no more.

The easy way was to go frantic
& with this I can be found.
The man never knew
how he turned me upside down.

I got too tired of all the blame
looking as if I was the one insane.
For fear and sad,
things gone wrong.
Nothing like a battle
where someone might've won.

I'm not so hateful,
I think.
But gone is it
when the time was for trying.

Work as we may but we were weary
of our own faces that we conceal aside.

So we've got to know
how much we tried.
But to understand
that we'll never know
what we try to hide.

Watch me now
as I say my despise
and my energy
to try to stay wise.

My regrets to my lover,
my regrets for life;
I can never resemble
the pride
falling through my eyes.

I might have died
for it for all it's worth.
I might've believed all of it
and gone with my mind.

Far too considerate
to what you also might,
I still tried to fight,
to remember,
to feel
and then relinquish slowly
away from hurt.
From the man who's scared
to feel,
to fight
and remember
the best feeling in the world.

We don't play dumb because it's not a game and truly very lame.
We don't play blind because a few wants those eyes but if you want to, then pay the price.
We don't play tease because we're not dumb nor blind of the truths that's here.

But if I change my mind I guess it's still and will always be a NO.
I'd build up defenses with no words to throw.
All the obvious has been laid.
Haply stories has to be said.

So this is the battle I should face,
to a place where I'd surely leave a trace.
If the crowd should understand
or if i choose to stay away;
I was too weak to speak and say
but all the decisions are beyond what I can withstand.

I do not hit the blocks just to prove I was right.
because deliberations has been truly my everyday fight.
What takes me aback is rather the truth.
But what scares me more is the possible fruit.
Yet the story that never ends
seems to be a history that never bends.
Now I choose not to be scared.
Vincit Omnia Veritas, Amicus.

I've settled to you
Inside and sheltered
Uncomfortably bound
Like a piece of the puzzle
Like a shoe that doesn't fit
So wrong yet too right
You think of us
So obsolete
from my delusion
But i still question
Why would we even have met
Between the differences
and change
Of happenstances
How could this even exist
and after all desist
Through the absent air?
what was it so unfair
that we had to let down
and fear
of being overgrown
or is this a chapter
one step away
to relieve
to stay
and believe that
love has a replay.

I woke
from an indefinite courage
And all I know
is I can never look back
So where do I get
the strength right now
when you've given up
at this point somehow?

Too little time but
I liked you since then & now
you know it very well.

And when I close my eyes
I have never intended
if I could have just rejected
like you did.
But it was still the same thing
an illusion that we could be everything.

What more is this
than just an open hole
Lingering and lurking around
We've no closure
but is this what you want?
Maybe it has to be like
we feel a lot
cause you fight over it
over yourself
And I want more of us
than to be with someone else

What worse of wrong
could it be than torture
to restrain from
where your heart belonged
cause for the first time
of all the chances
in a very long while
you know it very well.

I was in one table with my enemies
like a laugh & a rant at the same time.
and yes it wasn't easy
to say words that never rhymed.

one bullet to stay sane
and two paddles in disdain.
there was no choice and hence
never possible, never the same.

at the back of the paper
are scribbles that told stories
like a dumb arrow,
to a wistful memoir;
acting like a tiny wit
to the hilarity of what to think,
on how to bear all that
transcendent and ostentatious fib.

a crazy quilt, a needle and a spindle.
to stitch beyond awkwardness,
and cut the insuperable difficulties;
but still you are not awake.

there's no turncoat
no fast cars, no boats
to rainbows & silver linings
for the black & white endings.
and round and round we go.
as the waves flush all the thoughts
like the room was as empty of guts.

the strings of uncertainties
I cannot speak of
or mourn for the next day
or whisper all the words I can say
just to ease the choke away.

for a moment of transgression
in the law of normal feelings,
she was told not to do what to
just to keep sane
or hold the ground in vain.

everything was like an explosion
and it was never thought of
nor anticipated to happen.
It was all the same.
and as what has been said
she abide and waited
with hopes, but no,
it will never happen.

and although the gist was never there,
she always thought of it as erratic.
But to alter her reality
sounded like an imitate;
like a pursuit of a dream
and changing is how to find it.

an indecent self
told her she isn't.
to what she deserved,
she was obscure.
and in the situation she is,
it was like a boisterous thought;
that she was walking with someone,
and he has never been there.

A clique on words
when the game was on.
I was caught off
talking and stammering
of hasty puns and guns.
but it was all good,
only good as can be.

the shoes are both left
while the strings are tied.
one glimpse on bitters;
two cheers on wine.
they started on a struggle
a never ending battle.
until on the other hand
was a stroke of a genius.
and gone was it all;
almost love and almost fall.

the abstract has always been doubt.
yes, he always liked to be unsettled;
too weary to continue
yet too hungry to pursue.

a vague cause and a superstition
for reason no one can recall.
the backslashes of memoirs
take entirely the moments
of what is now and what's tomorrow.

to let and be succumbed
to being the point of what's sane.
to surrender to what's fond of
or to grant freedom of what's gained.

to stay and embrace all to waste;
no guts nor feelings.
to neglect what you expect;
to be happy with what you get;
far more than hurt or sorrow
closer to roads that narrow;
and inspire to go ahead
and wish for more than dead
on whatever beat you have
all arts, all truths
plots & schemes misconstrued.
to give and never receive
when you do what you do.
with hopes all up,
wandering questions of about
songs and whispers
from shadows of specks.
tell me what could it mean to me,
when they speak only to pictures
and lost the story of the book.
to test on a fickle heart
and hope for good fate;
to point with a finger
and choose who to blame.
When breathing has never been harder
like having a choked lung.
all grasp, no glory;
your wrist and your mind
faltered when you tried.

Who would have thought
she would ever do;
when they conspired and told
the secrets an artifice holds.

show me what's the sense
to gratify a wish
or catching a fish
in speaking of good things
and genuine thoughts
making them, lifting them up
but when you stumble you'll see
the negation of a being.

for every place you see your feet
on the same slippers & jeans
and with every person you speak,
you think again and again
if it's worth it or rather be grim.

with one step forward you stutter
but with a stratagem in mind
you'd do it all again and take the trophy.
you shush them up and then you go home;
you hear whispers, but tries to numb more;
with one pivot of words aback
you won't say a thing or two
with one spark of a little
you either bleed or chipper.

it's not insensitivity. it's not glitter.
the insolence of a child and dishonestly of fate.
but the wind is still rocking the chair
so where does it go, when all else fails?