Veins that hold
A** talent only his.
Not confident, but
Great masterpieces.
Oh, what a shame
Gogh died without
High hopes for his art.

He left with that same blue button-down shirt to our third date.
I remember the fire wavering at our dinner table.
He wore that same smile everyday
but I needed to see that smile more times,
though I'm thankful for all the times I did.
Years later I can still feel his lips on my temple,
"plane's taking off, I love you," deeply incrusted in my mind.
I can't stand texting anymore.
I stared into the eyes of the flames when I turned on the news
and felt the world around me shatter
and the ground beneath me quiver.
I can't stand watching the news.
And even though I celebrate on my own
the date we decided to be one,
there are 11 days into September that hurt and burn.
I can't stand September month.
And so I went  to bed the night of the 10th
not knowing my heart would go the next day,
14 years ago today,
and never come back into my chest.
*14 years aren't enough to forget.

I looked at your eyes and they weren't just brown.
They held mysteries and secrets inside.
I noticed and was immediately bound;
you didn't let me in, all you did was hide.
It was not fair how much I opened up
while you bottled all and left me guessing,
as if I were a person that would rob,
as if one day I would leave you hanging.
I don't know who you thing I'd turn into,
but I promise you I'm not like the rest.
I would never leave you, nor learn how to,
I promise I will give you all my best.
So please, let me unlock your mystery,
I promise we can make some history.

The first time I saw you,
I knew your eyes weren't just brown.
I stared into your eyes
and they reminded me of soil.
The comparison itself doesn't sound so pretty,
but I stared a little longer
and your eyes reminded me even more of soil.
Soil that life peeps through to spit beautiful flowers,
Soil with rich health growing among it,
Soil that holds more than billions of lives;
memories, tears, laughter and anger.
Soil that trembles the world averagely two inches into disaster,
Soil that covers the nickel nucleous of our precious blue star,
Soil that preserve resting ansestors,
dust they became.
Soil that clasp secrets scientists breathe for revealing,
Soil that hides the bones of the first organisms to roam this planet.
Your eyes weren't just brown,
they weren't just ordinary brown eyes.
Your eyes were heavy with the world.
And as I clawed deeper and deeper into your soul,
I felt how your body cracked
little by little
like fragile glass wanting to burst with burning hot water.
Your eyes are so brilliant,
but to cradle tremendously vast amounts of the Earth's existence must be
so frightening.

I'm not a person to ask for things or maintain greed over material goods,
but I go out of my way to give you the world and the stars
while you don't take a second to think about details
and just keep me apart,
caged from the rest of the world
while the world is gifted with your smiles.
I just hate feeling like I can't find my way of these knots
or this maze-
****, I don't know what this is.