I have been yours for 730 days, 17,520 hours, 1,051,200 minutes and you have never been mine; not even for a second.

Once, I was gifted the brightest jewel of all the wide worlds wonder

It shone for me with a brilliance, as it had for no other

But in my foolishness I cast this priceless jewel away

And as it fell t’was broken, the light scattered asunder


Now, it will not shine for me

And so, I stand in darkness


The bitter pain of watching its warmth shining upon others

As my own space dimmed, to dark and ugly colours

But it was I who cast the jewel that broke, and made itself anew

Stronger, fairer, brighter than the untouched jewel that I once knew


Still, I cannot bear to see

And so, I stand in darkness


A jewel so bright, many have sought to bask in its fey light

This is no earthen gemstone, nor star that graces the night

Most, too foolish to keep it shining upon them alone

A jewel set in the breast of artwork fairer and brighter beyond sight


Woe, it shines the least on me

And so, I stand in darkness


A darkness I would have flee from unforgiving fire

To burn the earth and all the heavens until I’m alone

To end this world with fell flames is to what I aspire

And watch the gods despair, at the crumbling of their thrones


Yet, I must not turn ugly

And so, I stand in darkness


Anguish will never wear such a resplendent face, as the one that I shall paint it

Despair will be sung truly, in a sweet melodic guise

I shall mould regret into a bolt of ruthless doom, enamored with a purpose

And pen loss in lustrous tales, to gild a readers eyes


All, done with some subtlety

And so, I stand the darkness


To sound a scream which rends the land, leaving a scar behind

To cry deltas flowing back through past deeds, flooding that frame of mind

For it to nourish life, of a beautiful, and evolved kind

Thus emptied, to float up and admire it from above, weightless, and refined


Though, I must tread silently

And so, I walk from darkness


Finally I saw the truth, after I was told a lie

Delivered into the blinding light, I was left wondering why

Why I was cursed with the folly to commit the greatest of life's crimes

Why I must now see sense, and what has passed me by


Still, t’was a choice made by me

And thus, I’ve burned with darkness






Never, never, ever again, to break such fragile, precious things

Nor walk with tactlessness, or tragedy in my stride

I'll shine with luminescence of thoughts and deeds most high

When some facets of that young boy, have finally, truly died



My own jewel shattered, with minds eye open wide

Now I understand, this allegory of dark and light

why does it touch you deeper
when i say what i write
is based on a true story?

here and now i use no capitalized word
here and now it's him i remember
for it's him who said:
"small letters are more humble"
you know, this is based on a true story;
i met him but not really
my longhands reached him
far, far away from here
surpassed lands and seas
o, how large is my country --
his equals plus one to my gmt
here foods are sweet and there are spicy
he hated and still hates the food here;
it reminds him of the tyrant
who'd only cared about
the west but not that west
and made the east poor and slaved --
he was one of those who
yelled reformation when i was
only nearly two

i am seventeen and so was he --
when i was born.
i love how thirteen connects
our birthdates;
mine is twelve and his fourteen
and i said to him thirteen was my
favorite number
and purple was my favorite color
for his was blue but
i thought of him as red --
red not of the lust but
red of the color of tomatoes --
his mother was a tomato seller
and since i had known that,
tomatoes began to taste sweeter
sweeter than ever

when i said i liked purple
i didn't know it was the color of
the rain,
his first love ever --
when he was just a kid
he wanted to marry her
but then he learnt at school
the rain is not a girl at all
not even alive
he couldn't marry her but
he still loves the rain
so i do too

you know,
i once was an anti-coffee
i used to drink only and only tea but
he loves coffee
so i do too
i once sent him
my favorite coffee along with
a ta-ta-for-now letter
and he replied to me electronically
with a stabbing sad emoticon
:(
it still stabs
but then he said
the coffee was good
and i smiled
but he didn't know it

do you know
what's better
than a cup of coffee in the morning?
"it's two cups of coffee"
he'd say something like that
so this morning i decided to
have a super sweet tea,
sugar so much it
almost tasted like soda --
every gulp was
painful
to my soul.
i almost found the
god in me if i had drank the second cup but
i made coffee instead
no sugar like i always had
not because i like bitterness
it's because every drop of coffee is him
and he is sweet enough already --
but i broke the rule of two
this morning i had
three cups of coffee
three cups of him
and it wrenched me --
la douleur exquise
-- the heart wrenching pain
of wanting someone you can't have

i don't even have a single autograph
of him
i hoped that he would write me letters
with that pretty handwriting of his
but at the same time
i was afraid that he wouldn't
so i sent him bunch
without an address to reply to --
you know, this is based on a true story;
he is a writer
but he doesn't really like
to be called a writer
because a writer will be jealous
of another great writer so
he calls himself a reader instead
and he embraces his thirst of great books
he is a librarian
he lives around the books
he lives for and from the books
he has three cats
and seems like he will
have more cats and more
like his mother,
his mother loves cats too
it's prophet muhammad's favorite pet
or so he said
on the radio

he is a poet
a broadcaster on a local radio
every friday and saturday
and at the end of the broadcast
he will read poems
sent by emails
even you can send your poem
but not all poems can be read
there are so many, you know
here we really love writing poetry
but few like reading it
like me
i read his poems
not because i loved reading poetry
it was because
it's his, it's him

but now
he has done what he should do
he has completed his role
he has made me believe in poetry
he saved me from the disbelief of poetry
he taught me that poetry
could heal
he said that writing poetry
is hugging
and reading it
is returning the
hug
he would read a lot of poems
when he is sick
and now
that's what i do too

he was the one who kept
my feet on the ground
every time i felt down
i sang silently a7x's m.i.a.
lend me your courage to stand up and fight
so he lent me his courage
so i could stand up and fight
and every time this life
felt so wrong, lacked meaning
i remembered his name
and a promise i promised
to him
on my own mind
"don't die before we meet"
yeah, i wouldn't die
i would never die

there was no other way for us
than being yinyang
and that's why i decided to
hate what he loves
he loves coffee
but i couldn't hate it
he loves poetry
but i couldn't hate it
he loves rain
but i couldn't hate it
he loves sylvia plath
but i couldn't hate sylvia
i can't ever hate sylvia
i can't stay away from his sylvia
i love her
and she loves me back
sylvia is my earth
and that's how i realize
he and i can't ever be --

you know, this is based on a true story;
because i say so.