There once was a time
when I'd defend
those eyes.

Every eye is a chasm of beauty, the entirety of the soul.

That was a year ago.
My perspective has changed,
like the sound of your name.
I'm no longer familiar
with those eyes.

I'm scared.

I cannot love you
You, a poet like me
For I fear your poetry
As much as I fear mine

Words will flow inevitably
The current is impossible to defy
The current we shall not defy
Because we live to write and we write to live

Time will be spent not through creating memories
But by attempts to create impeccable metaphors
And instead of holding each other's hand
We'd be gripping pens for dear life

There would be smiles and laughter
But more of screams and groans
Out of frustration, of exasperation
We live to write and we write to live

I foresee a competition, commencing unannounced
After making love, we shall draw our swords out
Joined by passionate fire, now we shall turn away
And  make each other bleed each other's name

Your eyes are the moon illuminating my night
My smile is a hundred suns on your vast sky
Our love shall be immortalized in words
But our hearts shall be left in ruins

For your scarlet wildfires will contest my sky blue ice
And my apathetic ice will envelop your vivacious seas
Your enraged seas will swallow my tranquil lands
And my ambitious lands will reach your unreachable skies

We will spew verses and scribble stanzas some more
Crumple countless papers and waste bottles of ink
Our grandiloquence is what brought us together
But our different styles would escort us to the end

We are poets, we do what poets do best
Poets may love but poets are made to write
We live to write and we write to live
We shall not live for each other and let each other live

i promise you will never be as beautiful

as you are in the eyes of a poet.


did you ever think

that the curve of your lips

would be worth writing about?


oh god,

that crooked smile

has my pen bleeding ink

faster than i can keep up


did you know that

i’d find inspiration from

the scars on your hands?


tell me,

did you know that

i would write about the way

the light fell on your face that night,

the hair dangling in your face,

your eyes looking more beautiful than

the stars above us?


does it bother you to know

that all of our secrets

make their way

onto paper?


or does it comfort you

knowing that

i can’t forget?


what does it do to you?

knowing that i compare your words

to flowers growing in the bottom of my soul,

the weeds entangling around my heart…


does it bother you that

i’ve turned you into a poem

over and over again?


or does it do nothing at all?

please tell me.

If you were to read our story backwards
It would tell the story of how you held me as we slept
How happy we could be with nothing but empty time and a bed
How we kissed, but only a few times and only  real quick
How we ignored how we felt, how we brushed it off
Or how we would talk on the phone until one of us would nod off
How we first met, how silly you must have thought I was
Until one day once upon a time, a long time ago
You forgot about me forever, I wasn’t someone you’d ever know.

Kiss me,
Under the stars, right when I think you won't
Tell me,
what you think, of me, of you, of us

Just speak,
Fill the silence, ramble, chat and stray
Show me,
who you are, your soul, your mind, your way