She is a wildflower found here and there
A trumpet of joy, whenever, wherever
She is the daffodils on the sidewalk in spring
that flutter and giggle when teased by the wind
Her word is a warm scent of lily
That thaws the heart, a cold valley
She is fragrant and full but humble
She is white, red and yellow but blue
She walks along the snowdrop in the fields
Whittled by the roughness of the weeds
Her roots do not vacillate from reason
The pruning is needed, should she edge and mature
She is a brave but playful golden dandelion
Tempered by the labyrinth of season
She buds at the break of dawn
She is a woman— a bouquet of her person
hello after a long while of absence
clouds are formed
from the dying candles
lit by earnest souls.
Eventually, everyone will depart their flesh
for they have reached the end of their race.
While some try to delay their rest,
others cut the thread themselves.
Life is just a phase,
everyone shall return to the mist,
all the memories will sink into the abyss,
and the world will again be an empty slate.
You have a circle
is closed around
while I have a line
that has no size,
and no one.
I woke up at 4 a.m. freezing.
I thought I left the windows opened, but it wasn't.
Crawled back to bed, knees drawn to chest.
Grabbed my blanket while
thinking to myself, "God, I miss him."
he and I,
he and she.
he is with her,
I am still stuck
in the middle of
how did we end?*