Light streams through the window,
Beckoning her to come out of the dim.
A spotlight on her blank canvas;
She was yearning to see him.

Oil, water and paint blend
With her blood, sweat and tears,
Slowly and agonizingly dripping
From her brush, brows and ears.

Then there he is, tall and bright;
A sun-kissed face dressed in a golden vase.
She painted his image in sunflowers:
He's her masterpiece no one can recreate.

He told me,
"You are a
coincidence
that looks like
destiny."

I told him,
"You are a
déjà vu
that looks like a
memory."

They told us,
"You are a
dream
that looked like
reality."

you said that
you love it when it rains.
little did you know that
it rains
whenever i shed a tear.
maybe that's why
you seem happy
even if i'm hurt;
you enjoy
whenever i cry.
and i'll always end up
exchanging your sorrow
for my euphoria,
in hopes of you
loving the rain—
me, my tears, and my pain.