I don’t believe in a god,
But for some reason I still pray to one.
Promising I’ll change my ways if he helps me,
just this one time.
But he never does,
So I don’t change my ways
I don’t believe in a god.

Marble made of seagulls’ wings, set in flight,
Their beaks foam and crest and rise for air,
In headwinds and feathered drag, upward lift,
Carve out fluted columns by tunneling vortex,
Beams of bluebirds made from cross-sky stitch,
Parthenon of flying tides and nested Acropolis,
Endless fossilized sigh of Saronic Gulf sea-winds.

You mind your steps
   after you've stumbled.
You miss your home
   after you’ve left it.
You value your health
   after you’ve been sick.

But you can’t enjoy life
   after you died.

Dear HP,

This is not a poem
But a question
The answer to which
I do hope you have

Why does my lover claim to love me
But still looks for every opportunity
To let me go?

Is it that she loves me so much
But doesn't think she's worthy of me

Or she doesn't love me enough
To think I'm worthy of her?

No poetry today.
No words for the despair.
No calming the fears.
No poetry today.

i think of the days when everything is calm, peaceful and serene. i think of the days when everything is chaotic, disruptive and hurtful. but mostly, i think of the days when i’m just living motionlessly. where nothing significant really happens but my heart is aching - reminiscing the memories. the laughters i took for the granted. the smiles i took for granted. the happiness i took for granted but somewhere deep in me always knew that i was bound to feel this way for a long, long time.

motionless.
my life at a standstill while everyone else have their own parties of memories while i stand here - all alone.
bitterness swarm me but i can do nothing.

motionless.
my life it seems. everything in my life.

motionless.
where i’m meant to be.

She
        Shouldn’t

Be

           Mine

But

        I’m

Glad

              She

Chose

              Me