his eyes are one of my favorite things about him.
but i can never draw him, much more his eyes.
not even when i try.
i can never capture the way his eyes glow
as soft as a little star when he smiles softly,
or as bright as the sun when he beams.

i can never copy the intensity of his gaze
without my pencil lead breaking or my hand tensely shaking,
in fear of giving injustice to such opened and clear windows
to his beautiful soul.

i can never shade enough to give it the depth similar to reality.
i can never bring out the emotion of his eyes
with my pencils
like the way he does with his heart.
i can never draw the flutter of his eyelids,
the curls of his lashes,
the color of his irises,
or the void of his pupils,
all of which i get entranced and ****** into the blackhole of his soul.

i can never draw him in the simplest way:
his eyes staring at me.
because i can never look into his eyes
or lock gazes with him--
not even with a still portrait.

Tell me, are you a library, full of stories?
Are you a collection of fiction and fact that no arms could contain or no minds that could grasp?
I look into your eyes and I get a glimpse of the catalogs and genres which you keep within you.
You must have had your fair share of history; that is one textbook I want to study and memorize by heart.
Do you think I can be the one to take care of you?
I want to keep you a classic and as a monument in this era of advancing technology.
I will clear the dusty parts of your heart and wipe the slippery surface of your crying face.
I will caress every page you own and help restore the words you've been trying to preserve.
I may not be the one who found you first but I will be the one to stay by your side, until the day either of us crumbles.
So let me check your books out and let me return to you so very often.
Let me call you my favorite place and my second home.

Her shoulder rose like the moon
above the black velvet of bolero jacket
She took his arm, his eyes--
An apogee
She took the room
in reverence

So slowly
shed the mountains
shed the light
hand to touch their wonder
Gazing after
her noiseless ascent
which never happened
while they watched....

Pearls—
roll against warmth
luxuriating offspring
cool encircling
contents iridesce
their energies’ warning:
Nothing quite that simple
Nothing quite that still

Nothing like the opulence
on the Proud Eve of catastrophe

Pearls—
caught in the lining
of what never happens the first time....

She heard them before she saw them
rip their orbits!
fission her universe!
in the mezzanine of the symphony hall
Pin ball in the Fun House
Bingo bounce
off—
the hardwoods of space....

Universal Theory of Scatter?
Even now I can still hear the clatter
of their round smooth souls
in the doorways of distant relatives

How could I know?
You would condemn me
to find them all?

they say men are from Mars
and women are from Venus
but i wonder what takes so long
for us to cross paths
perhaps
it's what the astronomers tried to declare
that Mars and Venus never does
and will never intersect orbits
with millions of miles in between them
or what the astrologers tried to foretell
that a love unknown as a nameless star
can never really shine in the first place
because of the thousands of miles between us
but even if it takes an infinity of time or space
for us to reach one another
i would still stay and wait
by your side, i will hover
what matters for now is
i found you
amidst many others
i saw you
even in the dark
and i love you so

When one leaves,
They never really do.
They are present in the void
They have left you with.

Sometimes, you think you'd be recovered from a heartbreak.
But when I saw the picture of the pagoda I took on that day,
I saw your face.
Memories resurfaced,
the sewn heart has a few stitches loosened,
and what if's appeared once more like how they did on that fateful morning.
We weren't close,
I admit we never were.
But you affected me greatly,
and I wish I'd done better.
Now I can only look at you in photographs or in memories and dreams.
Suddenly, reality seemed less of a reality compared to the dreams and photographs you were in.

Ten. Where are you? Are you there yet? It's been so long since we last met. I've missed you.

Nine. With only a few seconds to go, doesn't it feel like hours until we can be together once again?

Eight. Be patient. I'll be there soon enough. Wait for me.

Seven. Waiting sure does weigh an eternity. My heart is getting heavier by every passing moment.

Six. Think of the weight on your heart as a paper weight, atop the receipt I gave to you the last time we met, with our meeting place and time scrawled on it. Don't remove what anchors me to you.

Five. Pulling heartstrings won't get you anywhere, you know. Hope can be the worst betrayal.

Four. And hope can be the best loyalty. Now, will you hope and be loyal?

Three. Anything it takes to be, as long as it's with you. You have my pinky swear.

Two. Give me your four other fingers. And your eyes. And your attention. All of you, I miss it and I long for it.

One**. Midnight. He turned me around, 180 degrees, a half-moon, a lemon-slice, a perfect arc right into his arms. The minute hand has finally reached the hour hand. And our hands have finally reached each other.