Sometimes I forget.
That I am a writer, I can evoke feelings with words
Make them sing, create an uproar
I have echoing thoughts, they can last
Far beyond the time of my decaying skin.

Sometimes I forget
That I am a lover, I can stir consciousness
I can plant my tongue in his or hers
Gently trace the lines on their palms
And permanently change the course of their journey

Sometimes I forget
That I am human, a steward of the earth
I can paint the world with my own hue
Challenge the status quo, witness sunsets
And wake up remembering the things I once forgot too.

Your skin feels like no one else’s
I keep forgetting and remembering again,
the way it feels, the way it slides
through my ever changing hair
once it was black, you saw me back at brown,
left me at blonde and kissed me again in auburn.

Everything around have changed.
Yet I find myself still marching back to your hill.
And no matter how much these words bleed,
Nothing will ever be enough to paint our heartbeats.

How will something die, if it never lived?
All this will ever be is a ghost of a reverie.
I like tracing the paths of the places we've walked
in the fingertips of my worn out memory.
And see it all wounding up to you
A pain I so l ambivalently allowed to grow into me.

Like wildflowers, it sprouts slowly, then madly.
On it goes into my chest, my lungs
and at times I'll admit it gets hard to breath.

The roots have grown thick in the parts of me that never learn.
It's just futile for you or for anyone to see
I'll just go back to sleep in hopes that maybe,
...maybe not

The dawn breaks as the sun sets anew
It's beautiful to be reminded; here's another promise
Of bigger opportunities or another breakthrough

This lilac sky holds the truth
That we are limitless, we are boundless
As our stories comes to unfold

We are not just a bag of bones
We are the nebulousness that fills voids
We are not just a vessel of consciousness
We are the seeds of the Universe.

I was chasing down a cyclone - but I ended up chasing you.
We danced in the humid air of June, reckless, shirtless, barefoot and all.
You said, “I’ll never forget you”, I was trying to give you all the clues.
Was there something else we should have done?
More than the cigarettes we burned,
More than all the restless pages we turned,
More than the kisses we shared,
More than the arguments we made.
Was there something else we should have been?
More than the home we was for each other
More than the safe-zone, more than the surrender,
More than the fantasy, more than it all?

We watched the sun rise and fall, as our chest did the same
Together we painted words on each other’s skin
And turned our backs to the noise of the world
We once were there, at the corner
We once were there, our eyes: both reflecting desire
We once were there, tracing shapes in the dark
We once were there, frolicking with our home-grown euphoria.

And tell me you remember it all, the way my eyelashes tickled your face
Tell me you know it too well, how our coffee tasted when we were sleepless.
Tell me how all those memories are kept, tell me I am not forgotten.

You smelled like bourbon today.
I still long for the old musky scent,
Your neck used to reek of each day.

Your skin felt oddly smooth today.
Gone was the funny stubble,
That pricked my tired face each day.

Your eyes glows a subtle shade of emerald today.
How I miss the hazel pair,
You used to look me at each day.

With you grabbing my wrist
and I, spilling my wine.

With you kissing my cheek
and I, letting out a little sigh.

In those moments I realize
He’s not you, but you are mine.

There will be days where you’re going to feel all alone in the world by the way you admire the dusk and how intensely beautiful the golden sunset is and how the stunningly gorgeous Universe has conspired to make all these small moments to you. And you will weep, or laugh, or feel overwhelmed by its beauty and you will feel all alone in it because the people you’re with isn’t like you. They don’t see the overwhelming beauty in the moment, and they will not understand why it is affecting you so.

Should we hold on to people that treat us like tragedies?

Should we hold on to people that do not see the beauty of the scars etched into our fragile skin like a haunting poetry?

Should we hold on to people who think that our faults are broken highways, should we let them walk with us?

Should we cling onto their poisonous love?