the green cloth, held
in a new wind--let the birds
come again

it’s so frustrating because i know you wanted to be with me, on those days you drove almost an hour each way to see me and you kissed me so often and held me so tight and always pulled me closer and i could feel your eyes on me when i wasn’t looking, and we spent day after day like this, just being together and pretending that time could stand still, but at the same time, i feel like it was all just something for you to do while you were home, even though you deny it. i remember starting to tear up one afternoon with my head on your chest while you slept, because i knew it was just a matter of time till this was just a memory. i can’t picture you actually missing me, i can’t imagine you actually wishing i hadn’t said i was done with grey and in between. i feel like i’m so insignificant to you. like you have no feelings, like you couldn’t care less, this is just life, people come and go. and i know that, i know this is just life, and that people come and go, but it hurts that it’d never cross your mind to ask me to stay, that i was fun while i lasted, that you never wanted to make me yours. i’ll fade soon. i want to matter more to you. you’re a thinker, i’m a feeler, you hate that i’m so black and white. but i’m selfish and i want 3am texts that you can’t stop thinking about me and that you need to see me again soon. but that’s not who you are. and it’s unfair of me to want you to feel that way when you don’t. and it’s really okay, because if i extended my hand to you and you took it, i don’t think we would’ve gotten very far anyway. i loved being so close to you, but i’m excited to hold someone’s hand who doesn’t want to let go, to kiss someone who wants to kiss me forever, to not be anticipating an inevitable end, to be able to trust someone fully with my heart, to have someone that wants to hold it. and i don’t need that, i don’t need someone, i don’t need anyone. but if one day it’s what’s meant to be, i’ll let it be. i don’t want to be careless with my heart again. i don’t know why things happen the way they do, and i don’t regret you for a second, and i still think the world of you, but i’m too emotional and i fall too deep to give that much of myself again to someone who never asked for any of it in the first place.

Here I am bleeding again
Taken aback by mortal fear.
                     Staring at faith
                   Staged by hope--
Pouring rain on visceral cage–
               The sound of deep
                       Calling to deep.

Repressed feelings buried by time.
Epitaph reads on the forgotten grave:

"Here lies the child now grown.
  His hopes and dreams
       Dashed to pieces.
  This is where the child died."

I often hear the Mystic Keeper
        Calling from night
And tradition calling from artificial light

As I run through scorched barren
                          Fields of doubt.

Walking barefoot over these coals
    Crouching low
                   To hide my eyes

As I run    
         And as I hide    
  From what has already been revealed--
The tombstone says it all.

When I am out on the water
Lost in the Channel fog
I often see fleeting glimpses of
                White cliffs of hope
Like the white cliffs of Dover
Shining on the edge of Melancholy Sea. 
But they often turn out to be
Withered white
     Seeds of religious platitudes.

      And then there is the ready reflection
Of the looking glass
        That often tricks the beholder.
For in it truth is not seen.
What is seen is graffiti of soul
       Hiding the crumbling
                         Cracks of age–

The threshold where
         Sanity meets its end.

Isolation has become
       A shining steel blade
Cutting deep
    Into the heart of hearts.

Nothing lives after amputation.
Depending on emotional prosthetics--
Phantom pain
                  When nothing is there.

But in the midst of these devastations
I am learning to take--

     Howbeit reluctantly--

The hand of trust and grace.
Allowing
            Hope to build
      A fortress for dreams…
Set boundaries better
       Than no control at all.

It was so late at night, I don't even remember if it was within the time span to be considered night anymore. It was so late that it wasn't, maybe it was actually so early in the morning, but I remember that we were lying in your bed and you had your left arm underneath my neck and my face was buried in your old, white T-shirt and it was the first night we'd ever spent together. I had so many emotions flowing throughout my entire body and I just wanted to cry because they were so strong and you were right there and I knew that these emotions were caused by your presence... What would happen to them when you weren't there?

I remember fearing you leaving me, whether it was your choice or mine or fate's, but I grabbed onto that old, white T-shirt of yours and squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could before pulling myself in closer to you. No matter how close I got, I wasn't close enough. Body heat radiated off of you, but my fear left me cold and you warmed me up; you started a fire in my heart and an explosion in my brain.

I must've continued to clench harder and harder onto you because your eyes shot open and you wrapped your hands around my arms—my body—and said with panic in your voice, over and over again, "What's wrong? Are you okay?" And when you saw that I was okay, you released a breath of air, "Don't go, I've got you."

I was startled at first by your quick reaction, but then it hit me. You were left behind once. You were just as scared as I. So I looked up into your dark, piercing, yet innocent eyes and kissed your chin softly, "Yes. Everything's perfect. I'm not leaving you."

I could see a wave of relief wash over you and this time, you nuzzled your face into the crook of my neck and whispered, "I'm not leaving you either." You laid back down and I stroked your cheek up and down, causing you to quickly fall back asleep. I studied your old, white T-shirt one last time, discovering two holes and a single stain. A small smile crept upon my face.

We're just a couple of messy people in a broken world, but sometimes two "wrong" people are right for each other. I can't fix him, just as he can't fix me, but we can help each other fix ourselves. And it wasn't until that very moment where I said to myself, "I love this boy."

11 past midnight and you're still here

Through the looking glass you stood near

Like little Alice who fell in the hole

Falling down, your heart will never be whole

Hooded eyes reflected mine

As cold tears glisten and shine

What did you see in that broken mirror?

A look of candid happiness or pure terror?

We dreamt less, but we dreamt together

And only in our dreams we could see each other clearer

But such rendezvous will not last

When nighttime decided to end it so fast

We were not bound by that red string of fate

We are not even what they call as soulmate

For the two of us were just blinded by love

Which no matter what, we can't have

So through this delusion we can not succumb

Till we breath our last, we'll bring it to the tomb

Until Moirai took pity and give us a chance

Let's continue this endless fakery dance

Your mouth is like a revolver
It only shoots me down
Your words are chains
They only hold me down
But not anymore, I am gone
I am not living anymore.
I am free of all these bindings,
Safely out of reach.
I know there is a heaven and you'll be
Someplace that will find me hard to reach.

For every broken piece she’s got, she makes a paper crane to remind herself that bruises heal. And every day she makes 3 paper cranes, after making each one she shrugs her shoulder and smiles.
“Well that’s life” she says and falls asleep in her mediocre bed and her pillows tasting salty from her tears during her nightmares.
One morning she got up and realizes she has plenty of paper cranes living in her bedroom floor, in her sunflower kitchen, in her garden, in her beloved tub. There were so many that she couldn't count them off.
Then she placed her palms on her chest and realized she no longer has anything beating and then the world was never the same again.

How many pieces must have fallen from her heart?
How many left?

All those paper cranes were static but she needed answers. A lot of answers. She needed to hear why those pieces were torn and why she was severely suffering.

But no one came and whispered soothing things on her ears. The night fell and the moon was big and bright and cried because that was the only thing she could do. Her hands can barely make another paper crane to remind her that it was life.

The moon was wide and big and quiet but she felt that the silence was all she need and the moon became her refuge.

There was no one to save her but at least, something to turn to when loss is becoming unbearable.