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Nicole Bataclan Sep 2012
Today I walked past the house
The one of my dreams
The one that could have been ours.
It was always my first choice
But fate decided otherwise
Just another dream I had to toss.

Now other people are living there
Here goggling from across the street
I caught sight of their love and chairs.
They have made it their own
Coming back to it each night
The beautiful house they now call home.

I came to realize that I mourned
How hard it is to let go
Of something that was never yours.
Although in my heart of hearts
I once wished to call you mine
All I am always left with is hurt.

Today I walked past the house
The only one I dream of
The one that could have been ours.
In another lifetime perhaps
What belongs to me shall find me
And destiny will not set any traps.
Nicole Bataclan Sep 2012
Autumn has a way
Of slowly creeping in
Though summer days
Are far from being over.
There is that turning point
Wearing a jacket off season
Cozying up around the fire
When the sky has become so low.
Seasons are already changing
Not ever having set a date
It is a dawdling process
But no one wishes to notice.
               What a strange sensation
Like opening a door
That was never really closed
The beginning of something
That should not have even started again.
Nicole Bataclan Aug 2012
If time really heals                                                                     She tried all the tricks
Then why does she still                                                            Fought being lovesick
Feel the same way                                                                     Yet never deciphered
She did on that day.                                                                   How to recover.


                                                                                                              
  


If everything is fated                                                                  Maybe she is not meant to
Also when we are destined                                                       Because she belongs to you
To misconnect and suffer                                                          And she cannot replace
And hope to one night rekindle.                                              One occupying all the space.
Nicole Bataclan Aug 2012
There are so many ways now
To add glitter and sparkle
More sunlight where it is missing
Enhance the skin tone when it is fading.

You need not be an expert now
At the simple click of a touch
Your smile will light up like a flame
Putting your moment in a pristine frame.

Is it not customary now
You can make it much prettier
Turning the humdrum into classy
Creating a billion-dollar memory.



Yet not all things call for modifying now
The instant itself could be magical enough
If your shot had it all mimicked
Why polish when it is already perfect.

Take a photo with your heart now
Art imitates life and not the other way around
Capturing the sensation that cannot be jaded
Memories, unlike photos, will not be edited.
Nicole Bataclan Aug 2012
The notion of age
Trickier than time,
We can never decide
On what is accurate
When it is early,
Or definitely too late.
We tend to feel older,
Older than our actual age.
As teenagers alone,
We could not wait,
Wait for that salient day
To be taken seriously
As mature as we ought to be.
I am not a child anymore,
An exasperated sigh,
I make my own decisions now
I have learned all the know-how.
But once we get older
The tables turn
And we are chasing the years
The years we spent acting older.
The wise still comment
Take full responsibility,
Deadpan honest,
You are not that young anymore
You got to think about the future.
And we ponder,
We reflect,
Reviewing the times
We already felt too old
Though our blood was so young.
Recollecting those times
We were surely too young
To be behaving so old.
And you wonder,
Puzzle over,
When is that time
That timing that is right;
Because truthfully,
You are reluctant -
Is there ever a time
A time you managed
To act your own age?
Nicole Bataclan Aug 2012
I would like to have
A nice story to tell
One that is jovial
And not one that ends
With a hero that fell.

I wish for once
The story could be nice
One that is abiding
Not purged in silence
With a heart broken again.

But it is all I ever share
Stories that are not well
And I wonder
When the tide will turn
If one day, it will be my turn.

Only so much I can bear
All I ever do is process
And I am not sure
Whether it will be my time
Have one I can call mine.

I am hoping for
This story to be my own
The One that is nice
Not one that has to halt
With a pinch in the past.

I daydream I will have
A nice story to tell
One that endures
And not one I can foresee
The One that I will never see
                                          The End.
Nicole Bataclan Aug 2012
It must be rash
To compare and contrast
What should always be deemed
Unmatched and supreme.

But you raised the bar
Putting me behind bars
A slave to your sound
Captive and spellbound.

All at my behest
Providing me with the best
How can it be topped
Relinquished or stopped.

Now you have set the tone
Your love, a class of its own
Nobody comes close
Foreign or heroes.

Becoming my benchmark
Made it hopeless to embark
On any new adventure
My soul is already captured.

Prevail as my standard
My own version of Harvard
I will wait until you return
My heart will always be enamored.
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