following your heart as if a flight of birds were the only trace of memory of something that was amiss (you)
but something taught in fairytales how wronged it is
how wronged the feeling of what was supposedly fate
some bitter sweet written fairytale without an ending in sight
this dilemma i must face does indeed bring me disgrace
and I’m sorry
horribly sorry
maybe i’ve got a hole in my head where everything waterfalls in and drips out slowly
taking
its
own
sweet
time

fruit tea in hand i am exposed to the wilderness of the light misplaced in the night
taking shelter in some temporary cafe soon to be gone
just by a few months
like us, most probably

mixture of emotions i can’t quite comprehend
nonetheless the hues and tones all blended together like lemon juice
makes the palette very sour
like the taste buds of your tongue when you snap at me
and i  don’t put up a fight
words take flight before tomorrow even makes its stand

the sun washes and spills like watercolour
and i’m alone in this coffee shop just off the road







maybe the concept of love is unbelievably hard for someone like me to grasp
so eager to fall so quick to lose the game
when all i’ve ever seen is the quick glimpse of love on my broken television screen
static and all
the path chosen in the path to go
the only picture i’ve ever had of this mystical thing was from a blind artist
so beautiful in his work and yet everything’s nearly see through

boy with his dozens of crowns
nose in the air
the beautiful boy i love.

though i’d like to crush glass bottles with my palms
boy with words of ecstasy, vibrant as  peacocks
electric blue
but i’m not a poet of love of any kind.