we don't have to live based on the novel plot
we own our own stories no one could ever write about
and those memories will always have chapter you mark
some maybe have torn and burnt
but it will be always a book
no matter how crooked the cover is
or no matter how dusty the pages are
there's always someone bother to read
whether it's only page one or twelve
there's always someone who pay attention to your last chapter
and keep you forever in sanity

I Love You
in present tense
you added colors to my life
but now you've turned black and white
and i run out of red in my color box
so i cut my wrist in a hope you'll be back
with yellow dress and red ribbon on your ponytail
tell me how you fancy black now my dear
and your lips were all white

the crisp of the letters I collect from you
is the new scent I'm gonna bottle up
and feed it with light and wind;
I long for you for years and years
and i wonder do you still remember
my name.
the fluff of your sweater
is still hanging inside my closet
with dried rose you gave me
with blood stain around the collar
and I wonder do you still remember
the color of my eyes
the address seems to not exist
the number was inactive
and I tried to detect you through globe
through places you said you'll go to
someday
and I found you with different eyes
and different smile
and different hand you hold on
and I knew I never stayed in your mind
ever since

people should stop romanticising their scars
like jewelries bloom upon their skin and flesh
aren't all of us a little bit addicted
with pain and the bruises, the spectrum they make
with the rain and thunder
the violent lullaby