you're the silly lover
picking flowers for another,
don't you see the thorns that ***** you
when you love like no other?

i cut my hair to my shoulders
and things began to change
i thought that i looked much better
but everything turned strange

if i had kept my hair so long
would things all be the same?
would my long locks have saved it all
or am i the one to blame?

sometimes your eyes are like planets,
wide and round with wonder.
a look into them shows the worlds that orbit in your mind
and the stars that swirl in your chest.
you're forever as young
as seventeen revolutions around the sun,
but your wonder has already been enough
to send you to the stars.
you've flown lightyears
enough to listen to the echoes
of time and memory contained in space dust,
you've made these sounds your songs.
you've commanded shooting stars
and hung from them,
swinging from tail to tail to get to the moon
and believe me, from my windowsill,
i can see you've made it when your moonlight shines on me.
now that you are up there,
i hope you like the view,
at night, i'll always look outside
just to admire you.

it’s not your fault, none of this is.
it’s not ignorance that makes you so naive.

it’s your purity,
your brokenness,
your stubbornness
and your refusal to believe
that you are worthy of at least an ounce of love, a minute of time.
and i am so sorry the world has tossed and turned
your heart, bruised beyond repair.
it still beats
but with the sounds of loneliness
and all your favorite songs.
i am sorry all you’ve ever known
is to be alone,
so much that you do not know how to accept love.

i am losing my mind
seeing you so lost, so lonely.
how i wish i could take your hand
and lead you through these roads
i myself do not know well,
but would navigate just for you.
how i wish i could loosen your blindfold
for you to see the way.

silly you—
how many more hearts are you going to break
until you realize that you do
because you are loved?

under the bridge
i'll find the hazy cigarette dream you live:
you love like you've never been hurt before
do they return to you what you give?

you're so beautiful, so bright
i love being in your light
but look—
you are burning
and i hope you'll never fade
is there a way i can help?
do i put the fire out for you,
do you want me to?
map the way,
send me a smoke signal,
and i will follow.

here we are,
i've found the center of the universe—
it is when you are beside me and suddenly
all the planets in their orbits are disrupted,
they run in circles the way my mind does
whenever you come around.
the trees dance and sway
to the rhythm of your hands,
for you are their favorite musician.
suddenly all the world's gardens bloom
in my heart, there is a flowerbed on which
you are invited to rest—
come here, be with me.
the sun's warmth transfers itself
into the adjacent stars below
your forehead
upon which the moon plants a kiss every night,
because it loves you so.
and the wild seas would never dare
to bring tears of salt into your eyes,
the darkest storms would never dare to steal your light,
and here i am,
looking at you,
peering at you curiously,
feeling as if
i could travel every corner of the world.
now, will you please continue to map
the way to you for me?
let me know, and i will follow.

Naive boy of summer,
you are golden—
your hands have reached places
I could never begin to imagine,
the world is handed to you
so you toss it and turn it
without ever meaning to hurt anybody.
You’ve got kingdoms at your feet
and your name is sung like a tender praise,
a sweet taste in the mouths of boys and girl alike,
that is how you are loved so.

The world has hurt you,
and still the light in your eyes has never gone out—
a light that is enough to illuminate the darkest cities.
You live as if you have never been
wounded,
broken,
bruised.
You walk into a room
so nonchalantly, with a smile on your face
and suddenly there is a change of pulse;
a kind regard for everyone you come across shines through
that people would just love to be around you.
Without ever meaning to,
You have us wide-eyed,
in awe of who you are
and one could only dream to have their own time with you.

Yet here you are, in the night,
hanging by a thread,
you seek momentary bliss from a cigarette under the bridge
or from the bottom of a bottle;
in your beauty and stupor
you call this being alive.

And in your pain, in your adventure, in your life,
you have learned so well to love,
your heart has only grown so big
it takes all the joys and pain it can take...
but silly boy,
have you ever learned to love yourself?

there’s many things i’d like to tell you
i want to ask how your day went and if you were happier than ever
i’d like to ask if you’re alright and if not you can talk about it
but if you don’t want to that’s fine too
i want to know your favorite things and why these are the songs
that seem to leave their rhythm in your heart—
what makes your heart stop and what makes it spark?
are you an evening person or do you like when the morning sun kisses your skin telling you quietly “wake up darling, it’s a new day”
or do you like staying in when the rain pours outside while lovers share umbrellas?
did that pretty stranger you passed by in the street
make your heart stop gently the way you do to mine
or do you look down when you walk?
do i maybe cross your mind even if very briefly?
but all these questions and everything that i mean with such purity
are of no use—
once i begin to speak to you the words
stop in my
throat
with such shyness like death
and i stay
quiet like
this.

sometimes i wish i could find you
like this—
seated alone in a place where you find
some sort of solitude from
the flashing lights
the loud sounds and
the brushing of shoulders with people
who you may never see again;
it’s always like this.
it seems to be fast paced and wild,
wonderful and lonely in the way you live.
so perhaps if i came across you seated this way,
in a table by the window with a cup of hot chocolate,
you would offer me a seat
and i would watch the sunlight kiss your face
and i would offer you a room in my heart,
tell you “come here, be with me,
tell me how your day went
and how you are feeling.”
and perhaps we’d share our favorite songs
and this moment of ours would feel like one
meant for the silver screen,
but it would be ours,
tucked away from the noise and the ordinary.
and perhaps i’ll be able to know you the way i wish i could:
talking over cups of hot chocolate like good old friends.
i’ll show you my world
and you’ll show me mine,
no matter how different they seem to be.

Stuck in a dream of sun and sea,
I knew those days would matter so much to me.
Your head on my lap, my heart in your hands,
as we buried our worries beneath the sand.

What a wonder it was,
that the world didn't seem to mind
Our undivided attention
And all our stolen time.

Yet it was only time that seemed to be
Our only downfall, our enemy.
For time has the strongest heart
Enough to tear the greatest lovers apart.

Today, I look for you still
in the pages I read, in sheets as soft as silk.
You seem to live in every part
Of anything that matters to my heart.

And as the end of our old days came near,
I didn't count the minutes, I never feared.
I didn't bother to listen to the clock tick,
but to even think of you leaving made me feel sick.

Now we are years apart,
I could never even dream to call you mine.
Maybe if I prayed hard enough,
we would have had more time.

Such a fool, I once was,
to even dare to think of us!
But still I don't regret a thing,
for you once made my dear heart sing.

Antonia, it’s time to rise today
Your breakfast is ready, your tutor waits
“Time is running", mama says
There’s much to learn as a princess

Antonia, follow whatever we please
Stand tall and straight, hide your scarred knees
You’re no longer a little girl
You’re bound to be a queen of the world

Antonia, quickly, put on your shoes
Lace your corset so it’s anything but loose
If you’re short of breath, you’ll have to wait
A true royal must never be late

Antonia, there’s no more time to play
With your chin up, follow what we say
You must learn to be a trophy of France
To walk with grace, to speak, to dance

Antonia, stop laughing like a witch
Don’t be a disgrace, you’re not a *****
You’ll change your name and all in between
Marie Antoinette is who you are as queen

Marie Antoinette, with beauty from the gods,
You’ll marry a man you’ve never loved
You’re off to France, now say goodbye,
You are to leave everything behind

Marie Antoinette, you lover of life,
With your luxury and power, your kingdom’s in strife
As you live your own Versailles delusion
Your kingdom is brewing a violent revolution

Marie Antoinette, do you remember the sweet days of sixteen?
Here it all ends, with a cruel guillotine.
Antonia, free spirit, never meant to be
A girl chained by royalty, a reigning queen.

loveliness in all you do
rhyme and rhythm in every move
a heart of gold, a heart so true
the universe lives in you

i love you more, each day goes by
and there are countless reasons why
i'll never let them pin your wings
so i can watch you fly

desire,

i ache to know you,
to watch you approach me like wildfire
and render me helpless because yes—
i wanted this,
exercised my wildest imaginations
against the wishes of religion and morality
on afternoons when there was nothing to do,
drowned every bit of guilt for the thrill
of the world’s secrets i’ve never known.
i want to know how it’s like to need a body other than mine,
to have senses heightened and feelings wild:
you on my skin,
delicate touches as if reading a map,
and when you leave a phantom hand lingers
only to have me ask for just a little bit more.
a little bit more, please.
i want to know how to melt into another,
in limbo between lust and love
not being able to tell which is heaven and which is hell.
i want to know desire,
to, for once, feed what my body yearns to feel
and to no longer put out
the secret fire that burns in my chest.

This is a rebirth—
I will bid farewell to all this hurting,
I will shed this skin along with what I once felt,
and leave a little thank you note on the fridge
for all the bad days when I felt like sinking into my bed to disappear.

This is a reincarnation—
I'll revel in the familiarity of days long gone like past lives,
I'll listen again to the songs I loved when I was fourteen
and perhaps find new meanings,
I'll search for the innocence I lost to time and age,
and hang on to every bit of soul and memory I can muster.

This is a renaissance—
Little by little I shall rediscover my body and heart,
My soul will awaken with curiosity and be fuelled with a lust for life,
I'll fall in love once more with the world in a different light.

This is the revolution—
It's the dawn of a new age of knowing my own worth.
I have allowed myself to feel and hurt, to love and lose.
Like rebuilding a fallen civilization
I will step forward defiantly and vulnerably,
I will love myself and live unlike before.

Your gaze on someone else
while mine's always been yours
Numb my feelings, mute my heart
I don't want to feel for you anymore.

i feel like i'm calling out to you,
banging on a thick wall of glass
which conceals me somehow,
silences my cries
and stops me from reaching out to you.

this love in my heart has to go somewhere,
its spaces dying to be filled
by the pieces of who you are,
and to be there for you.

i want to love you
but i don't know how,

show me how to.

perhaps it is a curse when you feel too deeply
there's no way to pluck your chest from your heart
so it weighs you down completely

and so the stories are true: life is not all magic
when you're eighteen it's easy to forget

but what is life if we don't let ourselves feel?
being lovesick, feeling heartache
is what reminds us we're real

when you love you have always done it with a fire unlike any other.
it blazes, the flame reaches such great heights and
grows taller than the buildings and trees you climbed
to get a glimpse of beyond,
a fire that has fueled your heart to light up the world
but eventually eats it all up.
this love in the end is no longer a phenomenon
but just a tragedy, a fall of ash rain on a city burnt to the ground,
the pieces of your heart shattered on the floor
reflecting the fool that you are,
you're just consumed by the flames of the way you love—
silly girl, you're gone.

eyes fixate on you
and everything else disappears
(but you and a happiness which wrapped so warmly around my heart)

my gaze which has traveled around the world, which never stays in place,
in those moments were only for you—
you are not just some photographs taken in a rush
of which i have spent time viewing on screens,
you are not a holy icon placed so far up
on stages which someone like me could not possibly dream of reaching
you are not a fabled prince who can only be found in stories—
you are just a boy in love with songs
who speaks in rhythm and rhyme,
you are just a boy to whom movements come so naturally
especially when you are thriving,
you are just a boy with a heart big enough
to be split into thirteen halves,
you are just a boy with a smile so warm
and eyes which speak volumes of words you do not say,
you are just a boy with a soul so grand
that the world found you and just *had to share you
(and i am glad you found me.)

with this i know my heart is safe in your hands,
and with this, i’ll keep loving you for as long as i can.

the trees seemed to peer over us, a story that could begin,
with their leaves falling like autumn
in a country where there was no fall
the wind seemed to give me a little nudge—
in between our laughter i could have told you
i wanted to hold your hand
right when yours brushed mine
i could have asked you to tell me
if you had gotten home safely that night
right there and then i could have told you
that at night i pray for you,
that i always wish we had more time.

lone moon up in the sky
perfect and whole
nurturing and silently watching
with many faces to show
you have always glowed in your own right,
but it's quite amusing—
your light has never been
dazzling enough to outshine other stars
and you have never forgotten
to let the sun have its time.
you give so much of yourself
to let things run its course
(and perhaps there are never enough rivers
to let you see your own, bright reflection)
but don't you know that
in the dark of night
you shine to everyone else?

seventeen should be the age of learning and falling in love
but here we have a boy
whose life was taken
whose call for help was loud with all the might
that the wild heart of a 17 year old could ever have
tama na po!
may test pa po ako bukas!
and these calls ended
in gunshots
in fabrication
in ignorance
as if there had never been anybody like him who dreamt of a tomorrow.

and it is hard to silence anybody who's seventeen and just about to thrive
but here they pinned his wings
shot him dead and cold
never stopping to think that they were not the authors of his story
that they had not one right to end what could have been a beautiful story right there and then,
only a decade and seven.

seventeen should be the age of learning and falling in love
but not anymore;
it is the year he called out for his life
only to have it taken by the hands of the merciless
of those who do not know better—
all his wild dreams ending in silence.

together we watched sunsets
more than senseless television shows
in our minds we mapped escape routes
on the empty roads that wound on and on
the uniform houses with plain walls
made the city feel so far away
when that was where we wanted to be
all we ever knew were the same little stores
and lifeless gasoline stations
but with the lack of life around us
we were still storms brewing in our bedrooms
painting the grey town with the colors
of knowing we belonged in other places
and indulgence in undying dreams

i don't know the feeling of seeing the first snow fall
all i've ever known is rain and thunder

your heart is a room
with wide windows where the sunlight pours in
so perfectly it kisses your face,
the wind blows through the curtains
gently whispering of its constant love
through all the seasons,
it is warm and it is bright,
it is where one can run to in the night
when the stars make their way to shine
right on top of it
as you whisper your secrets;
its walls will listen, it understands, it will never judge.
your heart is a room
where one can snuggle in so perfectly
and wonder: "where has this place been all my life?"
it is a room that has welcomed
so many people—relentlessly and willingly,
it is in the way you love so limitlessly.

your heart is a room, a safe place
with walls built on love and grace,
and i am glad to have found it.

it doesn't matter
whether you're on the edge of seventeen filled to the brim with life,
or old and grey with eighty six years' worth of stories—
we have all been built by the same golden hands of time
and carved by the strength of memories.
a natural longing
for dreams and foresight
propel us to move forward
despite the storms of the heart or of life itself,
in all its ugly, glorious grandeur.

so take time to celebrate you:
your revolutions around the sun,
your tears,
all the pieces of your glass heart shattered on the floor,
your laughter, your words,
and all your golden days.
**you are,
and always will be.

i'm certain my heart is beating,
i can feel it leap in my chest
but i don't know what exactly for.
ask me what gets it racing,
what makes my stomach turn and my chest heave,
and i will not be able to tell you
a single answer.
but i can tell you a strange fact:
i have learned to fall in love
a million times a day.
my heart has grown bigger by tenfold
to take in pieces of the world
and all of its people,
for it cannot bear to spend a single second idle.
my heart is here—held out and admittedly quite vulnerable—
for anyone and anything to take because
i thrive on living to love,
and this is what keeps my heart beating.

it's been so long,
by any chance do you remember me?*

your streets are still the same,
alive regardless the time of day
like everyone wants to keep the sun and moon company.
the avenues are still a grid—
i've memorized you like the lines on my palm
and understood you as a mystic would.
callcenter employees still line the uneven sidewalks,
you're still littered with their cigarettes and bottles.
construction workers still stand at the edge
of the industrial temples they build
as if they're kings of the city,
and your streetlights still stand tall
to guide every human being
as they find refuge in your little coffee shops and apartments.

no, nothing about you at all has changed,
at least through my eyes.

but my heart tells me otherwise.

something's missing—
it's the school girls i once knew
who went about these roads
searching for any kind of refuge
from the woes of growing up,
who trudged the streets in leather shoes
making you a home.
they're gone now,
off to farther places and newer cities,
but here i am as i return to you
and somehow i still feel them,
alive and well:
their beautiful voices and roaring laughter,
the dreams they built in you,
the moments that made our hearts leap as great as the heights
we are yet to reach,
it all echoes through your alleyways.
and i'll never forget them—these distant friends and pretty souls—
the way i love your streets filled with our memories.

the prophets and all the grownups were right
when they said that 17 was a beautiful age.
it is the age of falling in love,
when we are still young enough to hang onto a thread
but old enough to know better.
17 is being on the verge of entering
into the dreaded age of responsibility,
but wanting something more
than what this youth permits.
17 is a transitional time,
when the heart may know not its place
but what it beats for.
17 is a strange time
of learning and growing and being,
and i suppose we will all always be
who we were at seventeen.

there's an undying storm in my heart
it grows so tall
it reaches my throat
and chokes me
stealing my speech
and brewing rainfall
that pours in the form of tears
from my eyes
it twists and turns
to knot my stomach
enough to stop me from smiling
it screams in thunderstorms
so deafening they fill my head
like thoughts i'd rather not have—
there's no way of stopping it
but to wait and take cover
to hide and hold on
to every corner, every string
only to survive

but storms eventually calm
and reach landfall
my heart sees the horizon overhead
when the skies are clear
and i think to myself:  
still, the good days rise,
still the good days rise.

step into the shower
maybe this water will wash the pain away
like the rain would do for me and you
in the month of may

in this light i'll shed some skin
and leave behind words unsaid
maybe if i had done things right you'd be here
on the empty side of this bed

i'm sorry i thought i could be captain
of this ship we built for two
i thought that love was all we'd need
that dreams alone would do

maybe if i pray hard enough
i could forget everything and start anew
i'd erase all these things i've done
but never these memories of you

now who's dreaming beside you, love?
it used to be us two
we can't save each other from nightmares anymore
so now all i dream of is you

honest boy
your words are written in the sky
whenever you love
it's cross the heart, hope to die

look at you darling
silly boy, bright mind
always speaking in rhythm and rhyme
everyone listens, you're one of a kind

always the muse,
sadness obscured under lights when you shine
(does it get lonely?)
i only hope your heart always soars, too,
the same way you make mine

the tides are turning
the seasons are changing
you have carried weight on your shoulders
far too heavy for anyone so young
and the world is spinning
like windmills in the sky
or the arrows of the compass in your hand

but never fret
you are never on your own
when the sky watches over you
and the clouds walk above you
the moon is in awe of your stories
and the sun comes out every morning
to shine on you
the breeze sings a song
for your ears only

and you are never on your own
when the world itself is alive
inside of you.

how could all these masters
of art and vision
of poetry and of prose
of love and of passion
of life and of death
create so seamlessly,
create things that matter to others?
how could they have ideas
streaming from their minds,
and translated into beautiful things
that need not ask to be noticed?
i'd like to think it was because
they worked with heart
but why is it that even if my heart is screams
with all the things i want to share
i try to paint
i try to sketch
to write
to sing little songs
they never come out quite right
or matter to anyone else?
why is it that my heart
with all its storms and whirlwinds
never seems to be enough
to create something beautiful?

don't pin the bird's wings
don't keep it in its cage
let it fly as it may
in the light of day.

believe in its wide eyes
don't heighten its fear—
it has seen the world
and loved enough
to know where it wants to be.

set the bird free,
and instead
watch the sun shine
on its lustre glowing wings,
hear it sing the song
of a heart that is finally free,
listen to its story
when it describes the world
in its eyes,
and watch its graceful form
as it flies through blue skies.

don't pin the bird's wings
don't keep it in its cage
let it finally see the light of day,
let it fly as it may.

if you think you have ignited
a flame of anger in my soul,
you are mistaken.

instead, you have forged winter
in a summer heart
where flowers once grew
and rivers once ran.

you had already made your way deep
into the summer,
found the heat and drought
beyond the breeze,
you had treaded lands
where no one ever has
and seen the parts of my soul
i could never dare to show anyone else,
in trust as steady
as sunny afternoons on the porch.

but you are a catastrophe—
you changed the world's climate
with momentous feelings
and carelessness,
instant gravity
and secrecy—
you have shifted the tides
and now the sun has gone away.

so in this heart,
the season has changed.
the summer has gone
and there is only an aching winter
where the snow is a million feet high
and the moon sinister,
the night is almost unkind,
but it is not angry,
instead it lingers in silence.
the air is so cold
and almost impossible to breathe in,
and there is no longer any warmth
but the coldness of a broken heart.

7 minutes our eyes meet
6 minutes our hearts beat together in lights and sound
5 minutes your rhythm keeps my fears at bay
4 minutes your smile is all i've ever known
3 minutes my heart starts to sink, i feel you slip away
2 minutes you're off to another place
1 minute you're far away and i'm here

here
i am
floating
not on a cloud
not carried by space dust
but floating on my own
caught in between
two sides:
i'm not happy and i'm not sad
i'm growing older but i want to stay young
i want to be foolish but wise
and soon i have to go
but i don't want to leave yet

is it so hard for time to slow down?

it's a pleasure to see
the way you move
when your bones can't settle
because running through them
is the pulse of music, the dance of life
it's a pleasure to watch you
lose yourself in what you love
to see you know the words to every song
and be so nonchalant
as if you don't hold all the magic in the world
it's a pleasure to see you be passionate
when the fire burns in your soul
and you are starry-eyed all of a sudden
as you speak about what you love,
and you climb every mountain
to do what you find comfort in
it's a pleasure to feel the way you love
your heart is open in every edge
and you would give it to anyone if you could

it's a pleasure to see you be
for you are a wonder in every sense

i entered a room i haven't been to since forever
suddenly it was smaller than i had remembered it to be—
wasn't it just yesterday when i was ten years old,
neck painful from looking up at the ceiling that was too tall for me to reach
and wishing i could swing from the chandeliers that hung from them like vines?
and now i'm suddenly seventeen,
caught between here and there
the rooms i know seem much smaller
and suddenly i don't need help
in reaching for things from the cupboard
in fact, i no longer need help for a lot of things
but why do i feel more helpless than before?
why do i just want to go back to when
rooms seemed much bigger
and i could easily hide in closets
whenever i wanted to be alone?
now i'm seventeen
and i can't ever be alone when i want to;
i'm caught in between here and there
but the problem is
i don't know what "here" and "there" is anymore

for him i write
but my hands are never able to catch up
with my thoughts
and my thoughts for him are messy,
they spread far out
so quickly and suddenly
when my heart is bursting—
such love is not meant to be kept to one's self
so my feelings run and run
i never know where they go
or where they're meant to be

but i hope they somehow find
their way to you.

there's always something or someone telling me what to do
there are deadlines to be met
and places to be
there's rules to follow
and a whole future to plan out
but what if for now
i just want to lie in bed
and watch the world pass by?

do you ever wonder how many stars there are
do you try to count the hair on your head
will we ever know why people stop falling in love
what happened to amelia earhart
what lies in the bottom of the ocean
was atlantis ever real
is there life on the moon

perhaps we'll never know,
but i believe that if anyone could find the answers
it would most definitely be you.

here's to the glam rock messiah of outsiders and misfits,
the androgynous man of the stars with the music.

born in brixton,
he traveled the universe by spaceships and soundwaves
with wild hair and one eye dilated.
book-loving and queer,
in love with the thought of turning 50.
the world had never seen a man
living different lives at once,
but here the starman came reinventing himself:
ziggy stardust, thin white duke, aladdin sane, major tom—
all different selves tied together by his heart.

he lived his earthly mission, rightfully so
that even the gravity of the world could not keep him put.
so on and on he strummed his guitar and crawled on stage,
in spaceboots and dresses, in porcelain doll makeup,
reaching out to all the nobody and somebody people

but one day his cosmic vessel
was taken down by a secret sickness
and halted his mission here on earth,
and so the streets and little bars smelling of cigars
were flooded by the ones who mourned,
who looked up to the stars,
wondering where their starman went.
the world had never seen such an electric creature,
but here the star man came in music and dance,
saying it was alright to be weird—
to embrace strangeness
in a world where every earthling wanted to be the same.

and perhaps, he isn't really long gone:
his time here may have ended
but now he is out there, somewhere,
on some distant star,
watching over the Earth as he always has.

we love in laughter and in tears
in song and in speech
in sighs and in swoons
endlessly and honestly
simply and strongly
with open arms and bright eyes
for as long as we can.
when we love,
things fall into place with each other.
when we love,
we see nothing in this world but one another.

i knocked on your door
and entered your room,
the first thing i noticed
was the way the sunlight
filtered in through your window
and the photographs you put on your wall
were these pictures of the people you loved?
the places you wanted to see?
i almost stumbled
trying to avoid the books
scattered on your floor
you said it was alright,
they didn't matter to you anyway
i looked around
and found that you tried to fill
every blank space of your walls
with maps, posters, notes, reminders—
did they give you company
whenever you felt lonely?
the stereo in the corner
was blasting tunes from the 90s
and i saw the way you hung
your favorite jacket on your chair
and the way your desk
had piles of papers and little snowglobes,
your reading light hung right above
where your head would be when you slept,
your wardrobe was a mess
spitting your favorite hand-me-down's,
i wanted to get to know you more

and that's when i knew
i was on holy ground,
treading upon a world
i suppose not everyone sees...
thank you for letting me in.

neon lights and punctual trains
24/7 restaurants
right next to karaoke bars
bright colorful photobooths
filled with cute drunk girls
a million pedestrian lanes
where bikes cross over
music booming through sound systems
when you walk on the streets
convenience stores filled with the lonely
apartments rising high like pretty figurines
and the businessmen merge
with the young wild souls
as they all move and go
in a city that knows
of its past and present,
of the future ahead of others;
this is tokyo
in all its electric motion.

what if we could write on the stars
the way we write with paper and pen?
in that case,
i would be writing love letters every night
for a pretty soul too far away.
i'd point my finger at the sky
and trace it delicately,
then you would go outside at night
the evening breeze would whisper "look up!"
and the constellations would tell of the love
an admirer sends to you by cosmic delivery
across distances of time and reality,
from a world much different from yours.

why do i feel like i'm always in love?
it's because you were, with me
there is a sense of familiarity in pretty things like flowers
because we once loved them, together
what am i looking for?
you're looking for me as i look for you
i feel so lonely all the time
i wish our paths would've aligned at the same time so i could be there
why do the spaces between my fingers feel empty?
i should be there holding your hand
this bed is too big for me
i wish i could wake up to you and watch the sunlight kiss your face
maybe in the morning i'll feel better
don't forget to have your cup of coffee, i know that makes you happy
i wish somebody would hold me
i'm not strong enough to reach out to you through the boundaries of time, space, and distance
i feel like i'll never be pretty enough for anyone
to me you are unreal, the most beautiful, and i wish i could tell you
this song is too beautiful to only be heard by me
i'm listening, i'm listening
i wish i had somebody to love who loved me just as much
*i wish we weren't separated by fate and time so i could be the one to love you