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aegeanforest Nov 2013
You promised you’ll fly me to Ottawa, the Pacific pulling us miles away while the waves crest and crashed inside me, birthing life, presenting us a single heart that will beat to infinity, with the comfortable doubt of whose infinity will be reached first. Second. Third. And during the fourth of July instead of being out in the placid air that penetrates, we protected our glass heart under the pristine sea of blankets, the booming of fireworks at the other end of the world bearing themselves barely audible, but whispering in the whimper of the billowing winds. That matters not anyway, because they’re all but fleeting images that slips through minds like silk, transient and unfeeling. People oftentimes sees them in a myriad, but who knows maybe deep down, they are just like us both, gradients of black and white, the intensity grey. You mused your longing for a gentle touch that is almost maternal, condensing your grey into a video call, thirty six hours and counting, filled with surrealism as we wandered along Windsor Corridor, all the shoving and bustling momentarily slowed. Was it because you captured me with the archaic Japanese camera you scored at the flea we spontaneously hopped to at Sungei road? What it shows, is that we remain, and have always stayed grounded, to the roots of our past. There is where we began, where our souls belonged, and where nothing, not even the willows will shake our fragile heart apart. I do not proclaim ‘I love you’, for your name is inscribed somewhere in between the lifelines on my right palm. Believe me sweetheart, you’ll cross my mind whenever I hold the pen to fight the battle in my mind, and believe me, I will live on with you on me, in me, forever, till I depart.

Rest in peace, my soulmate.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
One day I will be selling remedies for memories and songs for souls in my own little curiousity shop, just a turn into a corner of Greece’s small town, the bricks pure, and grander of them all is the clear blue sky that knows not boundaries; the sea filled with jewels shining like aquamarines, and I will be there, naked and sunbaked; a transcient. Only a tattoo of hope remains.



Or I will be strolling down the corridors of Paris, traipsing the Champ-Elysses, flirting with the French Patisser and receive an abundance of chocolates, my personal symbol of happiness, stuffed into my hands, and I saunter like I have the world backin’ me up, a curve on the face like no any other, flying chocolates into the air and hoping that whoever catches them will be in bliss, the pain made temporal.



I’m living in a city where poetry is considered a luxury, a place where words can never fill your stomach and love is but air which starves. I choke on the air I breathe everyday, filled with smoke, vengeance, the monday blues and friday hues, the petty complaints of ordinary civillans and insecurites about what their future will bring. What will my future bring? In school, an instituition which ought to develop but instead chains up, bringing me back to being a premature new born, just lacking the innocence of one. I write still, but of mindless formulas and definition of ‘gini coefficient’ which is futile when the gap between me and them widens every single minute, leaving me helpless and screaming, my voice sinking in the deep abyss. The moments creep. I weep now as on my bed I lie, extremely unprepared for the impending doom I will be facing, the regurgitation of memories which I have none, and a cloud of darkness looms.

Who shall dwell?
aegeanforest Nov 2013
I never saw the good in goodbye,













Until it became eternal.













Adieu.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
"Skin white as snow,
  lips red as blood,
  and
  hair black as ebony.”*

And remember, a heart pure as Gold. 










"My Little Snow White…My Little Snow White!"


why was only I, out of many children, called that? skin, white as snow. lips, red as blood. hair, black, as ebony. Snow white, Snow white, in your dark blue eyes, I see daylight, but it’s so violent.






Snow White, I… need your beating heart.

A twist.*






A heart crushed to ashes. *Can Gold rise?
aegeanforest Nov 2013
Whiff of chocolate,
Red Wine,Cheese, and Strawberries
You are all  in me.
aegeanforest Nov 2013
Think Pray Love- Do it
God is not homophobic
Then why are you so?
aegeanforest Nov 2013
He tattooed a compass across his chest,
but your initials spilled out skillfully
instead of North and South (N;S);
Proportionate in every aspect,
rounding the circumference of his life in the
Perfect dimension that only he alone
recognises.

He says you lead him, you
refuted.
You say you always
mislead.

But what can you do
against the vulnerable him,
when he says he’s a willing sheep
as long as you are the shepherd
and the Wales is but you both,
that he could graze on the pulps of love
                     even when
the grasses dry.


He says that’s how he’ll survive,
and his ideals live,
*even when romance dies.
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