we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections

its the night when your
life becomes sleepless

your day might be reckless
doing things after things
of uselessness

i am tired,
no, i don't need sleep
no, i don't need rest
i just want that feeling
i could hold and hug
to where i kiss and wish
be loved for me to love back

i sigh waiting for a sign
that i am still alive
after all.

most of us are lonely

My heaven is in you.

In your darkest days
I became your light
But in mine you
Never were
I wonder.