i want to write you something that holds no pretenses. as if before what i’ve written were false and substantial, but now i want it raw. i want it certain. i want you to know that the unspoken doesn’t mean i’ve lost my will to love you each and everyday. i want you to know that my silence isn’t but, a tone with restless i love you’s because it is; and because i do. there is nothing more consumable and true when those three words don’t come out enough. but when it’s you, it is.
you are no star, no moon, no poetic agenda, you are only human. and with every human that you are, i’ve accepted. with every human that you are, i’ve loved.
senseless; this feeling of missing you as though my mind can’t set on a single flower. everyday that i spend is another one of my heartaches because i can’t and never will be able to see the dawn that rises before your eyes and the moon setting beneath the palm of your hand. you’ve taught me how to love life; and live with love through the piece of me that sits across a devil’s advocate; for she sacrificed a thousand gentle whispers for lionhearted roars that she can’t ever take back. but at least she finally found her miracle.
i never learn but i always listen to you, i suppose. since you’re my only person; the only one i’ll ever allow to break my heart a million times more. i cry at the thought of never seeing you again, but at least that one time was enough, it’s everything i needed to fall in love with you overtime & again and again.
and to you do i deem another one of these elongated rambles of words bowed down to us by gorgeous sundancers. dear true love, is it painful— that you fell from heaven carrying a satin piece of you coating me in your tempting warmth? i wish it weren’t; your response to pain is not what lavishes you to a perfect sunbeam but rather an all-knowing traveller. countless of letters have been shipped down from the bounty to your lost paradise; missing you, as if the clouds have taken you in the fastest they possibly could. now i would never understand how it feels to be held in close proximity again; with tenderness adjacent to a fairy’s whisper. but this open letter allows you to realise of the poetry living within your bones. that no matter how sturdy it takes for the fragility to break through, there will always be love residing. from me, in you. i’ll be waiting in mornings, holding the moon on my hand, standing on the wild grand on the universe that we’ll never compare to. but trust me, that’s what you are to me. you’re on top of everything else that comes to live and breathe.
if there was one thing i could not give up to a certain amount— you’d guess it. it’s you. series of cadences employ themselves above the halos fantastically wrung around my neck. as the tears plummeted, wishing they were any more than the slightest bit useful during this time; they eventually stopped. sunlight has finally found a neighborhood down below corpse-drowned eyelashes only because you came back; in a dream of course. then i knew, giving my life up is like doing the same to you; which i can never foresee to do one way or another. oh lover, you’d always be worth the wait.
my dear redeemer, my hands are calloused at the hold of my headphones that touch my thigh as i sit beside clouds. when your hums tear my ears closely i fall to a world where my head whirls profusely awaking against sycamore trees with the breeze perfuming a scarlet colossal scenery. a paradise bringing me afloat a million souls as i am agile to wavering honey dust. you have contained me in a shell longing for love, etude, solace and turmoil as they wash down my drain but through the cold, i find you still. the windows are hollow, even though it blossoms for sunlight i hear such cynosures in my earplugs. you are my music. where comets are yonder, that’s where you are.
happy birthday starlight.
perhaps my love was a poem, where the words would stick to the sky like eminent stardust from heaven’s collision with the hearty gemini constellation feebly wandering in spiral distances. my hostile mind fastens itself to the star; in even ever so far away, its home has been discovered. maybe love was a poem and i am a poet, an artist, astronomer, anything i wish i was; because it is he, the star that wheels my nightsky and tints it with a foamy stinge of watercolour, that avows my heart to its purpose. — to love.
i am the words frail from the depths of his wishes. the ink blots to the edge of my skin; and whispers the tune of the lyric that swells and unlocks his heart. it is with him that i am whole, it is with his insanely gorgeous mind that i am adjoined to a poem that births a star.
my poet, my sweet, he is an artist of every kind; i am just a word and i will only fade to stardust but the love he sees is what he writes, it is what i live to be. i adore him and the magic of his undying passion that will never make his art fall.
my love was like a delicate rose that blossomed so purely during the summer solstice. you’d spot it so easily in any garden that you’d think it was ordinary. as the days went by, it grew more and more unlike every other that loses petals quickly, even before the sun rises. its blossoming red coloured petals never flinched, nor dropped, not even an inch. every year it blooms beautifully just like the both of us.
you are my summer rose.
they glow like two glistening moons spun together against the night sky and the stars would admire how bright they are
and would compare them to lost angels finding their way back together.
they would stun me, like starlight and when up against each other, they would fall on me like stardust.
he, my boy, was the vast galaxy and the stars were his ever glowing heart forever gliding with shine, accompanying the two moons, forming smiles like never seen before.
I could travel from miles away holding the same book but the feel of every page will never grasp my heartfelt grip of this certain chapter and i’m not moving on, never again.
he’s my favourite story.
a touch of heaven lingered against my fingertips when i felt a light strongly brush against my hands. when i saw him, with eyes of love expressed in the corners of his undeceiving pupils; my heart stopped.
never have i seen eyes that could capture every inch of my soul and at that moment, i knew
it was him.
the scorch never cluttered your prevailing mind as your flowers grow beneath the sunlight. bold and undaunted, you combat storms and racing cattle, never laying against the ground.
every morning i wake up half asleep wishing i could hear your voice instead of a longing weep. everyday i miss you, but the boy that filled my heart will always be here.
and i know that my love will never fall apart.
the morning star swells
as i live another day
still in love with him
her head was a hollow whirl of thoughts magnified with horror, dismals and turmoil. her worst nightmare flashed before her cosmic pupils though, she found the intricacy of a certain soul that cured her broken heart leading her back home.
the stars on my mind shine at the thought of you.
a fading whisper echoed among the mountains, it was a soft melodious resonance heard from up across the cosmic universe that lightly touched the breeze and swept across the oceans. it was meant to be a remedy for a healing soul that only once wished to smile.
he carefully reached for the drawstrings of her heart that calmed down her storms and she lived under the angel's wing that brought her back to safe haven; with fortitude easier to muster than softness.
he was like a written poem carved from the wholesome heart of an ideal poet. he was free and never needed a rhyme or a crested harmonic tone to be complete.
as we watched red and yellow leaves fall
i remembered how fast i did for you.
sweet loving boy,
rest your head against my heart and listen to its beating sound, know that every thump is for you.
be still like a wildflower; let the calmness of the breeze overflow within your skin. be free, with grace; dance with love and care. be still like a wildflower; stay pure, stay beautiful.
even if distance tells us apart and i could never tell you how much love my heart holds for my one and only, at least we're under the same sky and our hearts could kiss in the midst of the heavens.
i've written numerous poems about home;
but it never meant more to me than when i found you.
his voice left me breathless,
and his song brought me home.
when my heart's deepest clench lose synergy with the words i behold for the man on the stars whose light guides me through the lines that sing my i love you's, my emotions wander everywhere. they whisk and bound but they somehow found themselves in him.
his words were the mellow sound of church bells on the sixth hour
of the holy day. they were gospels, an ardent call from the angels
that hushed down the depths of my ears. but mostly he had all power
but left them all unsaid.
i would often wish to the shooting star for the glimpse of hope, of light and life then i look back and see him and i realised i had my wish all along.
i felt my hands, warm and safe.
he wasn't there to hold them but he didn't need to, he did it all to my heart.
his smile glowed like the universal stars that hung up the dim lit night sky; which could be admired from afar by a certain whose dream was to trace the distant constellations of dream and night. but that smile was up there to uphold the said so unreachable dream where all galaxies far away were found in a stretch of a boy's lips.
— The End —