you wet your pillow last night because your man stood you up. those tears cleanse your broken heart. he says he will make it up to you.

you cover yourself with blankets full of hurt and pain. he’s out there with another girl, his next victim. he denies you infront of his friends, and he’s afraid to be seen with you.

you cleanse your broken heart with tears full of pain & hurt. love, look in the mirror. im around.

your prowess is what brought him to you. love yourself, and take care of that heart. heart of glass, fragile heart.

although you never see me, im there for you. you look in the mirror, and you see confidence, beauty, power, independence.

no more do you cleanse your heart with tears of pain. you’ve let your heart let go. independent woman, be your own, don’t be owned.

an old life is symbolized by those blankets full of hurt & pain. but you throw them away. because you’re more careful with your heart, fragile heart.

take care of that heart. i want to hold it when i come around.

the moon shines because it reflects the light from your eyes.
the leaves & the wind dance to the rhythm of your heartbeat.
the moon follows your thoughts, and shines brighter at your every attempt to understand the glowing trail of a thousand fireflies.

i sketch your movements from above a tree, and confess to heaven. i said, ‘Lord, thank you for taking your time’.
the flowers of the night delineate your captivating rhythm.

rain clouds gather. raindrops entwine your thighs, and oh my, what a deep waterfall. your soul convokes the sparrows of the deep, convivial spirit.

free spirit. not even the law of gravity can stand you, angel. even though your wings are invisible, i can imagine you fly.

heavens confession: they took the time to mold you. create you.

and you glimmer in a graceful grassland, and the roses listen attentively to your voice.
a voice made up of beautiful dreams & broken promises.

heavens advice: never leave your happiness to someone else. otherwise you’ll be left broken.

only time can explain your he(art).
a pen & a paper are not enough to describe you.
they ran away from your words, they couldn’t understand but i do.
and i will with every ounce of my being, try to decode you.

i’ll stay light on this one. angel, you’re beautiful. you’re real.

heavens advice: stay you. stay true. you’re beautiful.

these words were not adequate to describe you.

you made a pretty good first impression.

p.s – this was heavens confession.

take back every word i never said & every thought i might forget.
the beautiful times we always had, don’t ever take them back.
the past is where my life i would never spend, unpleasant memories too much to comprehend.

and every sentence i never uttered, you should remember when im gone.
while you’re having conversations with your pen.
when you’re all alone.

and every letter i never used to form a beautiful sentence.
i hope you remember when you think of me next.
may every word you read be a warm touch to your emotions.
and every word you write, a warm embrace to your spirit.

take back every word i never said & all the memories i’ve ever had.

every word i never used to describe you. may you remember.
all the captivating words i never used, i left them all behind for you.

love to all your peaceful thoughts.
every sentence we uttered.
our late night talks.

take back every word i never said & all the memories i never had.

when the sun’s rays dance across the pages of your journal.
may every word you write, live eternal.
take back the words you never said.

and as Autumn’s leaves start to kiss the ground.
i’ll remember your sound, i’ll remember your love.

every word you never said, and every word i never said. may we both remember when we’re having conversations with our souls.
when we have conversations with the stars.

peace to your thoughts.
love to your soul.
harmony to your heart.

its soul is taken away from its root, its no more connected to its soil of birth.
we love its fruits, but the grim reaper has removed its artistry from the earth.
stripped of its delicacy, allure.
its happiness poisoned by death right to the core.

those array of colors begin to lose brightness.
a glimpse at its surroundings seems much finer.
its energy repels your stare.

the death of a flower.

the same ground that gave birth to it starts to expel the lifeless flower like a mother who no longer has a desire for her own child.
birds & bees are no longer attracted to this wasted flower.

it craved water and we denied it.
a bit of liquid could’ve keep it alive.
but we ignored it. we paid more attention to the beauty around it.

from its seeds a new flower grows, and the breathless flower says its last farewells. its time to go. the beginning & the end.

the soul of a dying flower sings its final melody, a song heard by understanding ears.
but nobody cares.
red exudes from its petals, for a dying flower these are burning tears.

a human being on this planet lives this life.
this is the story of a dying flower.

may i compare thee to a glass of red wine in a room well lit with three candles?
tonight, we're going to paint the town with stains from our past. we'll converse with the heart's language, love.

tonight, the floor will be our canvas, but i will not offer you my hand, i won't dance, because i know music leads the way to romance.
my heart yearns to fill the spaces between your fingers & take down the walls you've built around your naked soul.

our feet giggles and rapidly moves to the sound of Ol' Blue Eyes. Frank Sinatra.
stop playing that **** music, im a hopeless romantic.

may i compare thee to a dying abandoned romance novel?
let me read you. let me taste you.
i crave.

tonight, you & i will be canvases. until our hearts bleed, we will write, we will sing, we will paint, we will dance, and let music lead the way to romance. but i will not offer you my hands.

lips locked. minds engaged. us, we're blank pages.
as we dance the night away, and we forget our pain, let skin touch and thoughts crave, let music lead the way to romance.
you got me all over you.

tonight, we kick back & cover ourselves with blankets of comfort. and we listen to each others thoughts.

let me love you. i think about you as much as you never think about me. let me love you.

i was touched by the sensation coming from your throat & the vibrations created by your lips. your voice.
i drowned.

can i build a home on your mind? i'll forever be lost in time but i don't mind.
you. you chained me with your eyes, you choked me with your love.
but i still won't offer you my hands, because i know music leads the way to romance.

each time you spoke, it was a reading of the chapters in your soul. you told me, you hated being alone.
i found solace in your thoughts & your free spirit.

your body is the red wine. fluid. i drank you with passion & i got drunk off of you. i drowned in your wine glass of emotions.

i can see *** in your eyes. can i? can i drown in your waterfall?
i can see agony in your mind, i can feel heated passion on your thighs.

to what can i compare thee?
my lady, if we were a secret, how long would you keep it?
you have me open.

i was afraid. if i offered you my hands, it will lead to romance. tonight, let's just have our feet converse.
you had my heart first.

we painted the town with blue and red, with pain and regret, with all that we wanted to forget. but i will not offer you my hands because i know music leads the way to romance.

and we never cared that we painted the town, we never cared. we locked hands, for one last dance, and we let music lead the way to romance.

they said we were young. we were too young to love. but let's just dance, and forget the world. offer me your hands, so that music can lead the way to romance.

i always tell myself about you. at times, i catch myself in deep conversation with me. talking about you. i pray one day you hear me.

need to let you sink in. need to let you sink in. tonight, tonight only, i'll let you love me. let me love you.

all i ask, is that you pour out your wine glass. give me your hands, let's have one dance, and let music lead the way to romance.

golden leaves kiss the ground, as i sit innocently on the park bench. watching carefully. it must be autumn. the golden leaves.

colorful birds sing harmonies of another universe, i don’t feel human. i feel crushed by my own insanity. my flesh is no more, im actually a soul.

a young boy looks cheerful on a swing, he’s reciting love poems. he reminds me of me, actually he’s the younger me. my former self on a journey to self-discovery.

the golden leaves start to fly away. the birds fly away and the bench disappears. the golden memory of autumn starts to fade.

suddenly the cold breeze comforts my loneliness. it must be winter. the forest loses its beauty, and all is bare. the trees feel naked.

i dress myself in creativity and try to imagine beauty in such a dead place. im all alone in the park. winter looks dreadful and miserable, i can see it in its face.

the wind whispers. the wind can actually speak to me. it told me to stop worrying. it told me to only leave room for my passion for words.

i realised my dangerous faith in people. i started seeing children run around, cheerful with their peers. every single color starts to show, flowers are blooming. people are smiling, the streets are filled with laughter. happiness. it must be spring.

as i step on the sidewalk and admire creation, a smile illuminates the entire scene. it must be her. it was some kind of euphoric high. rose red cheeks that had me holding onto myself for dear life, i was infatuated.

she disappears. spring fades. a warm breeze comforts my loneliness. i see a river, crystal, so clear. i can see artists, poets, and writers infecting the river with creativity, they add life to it. it must be summer. happy thoughts ride my soul.

metaphors & similes touch me deep within. they caress my soul. my mind is my escape.

these are the seasons in my mind. this is my dreamworld.

now you know what happens inside my mind. well, actually that’s not everything.

i have a memory of man who loved wearing jackets and formal shoes.

he was wise and taught me to be better than him. he was the first to teach me how to pray, and taught me faith for the darkest hour of day.

he used to tell me of his younger days. he told me about his school days, and how good he was with numbers.

they tell me he was the last of seven, and the first to see heaven. i have a memory of a man who loved wearing jackets and formal shoes.

he gave me my name, and was the first to hold me when i was born. this man had black eyes and always cut his hair. always.

he took me to school on my first day. he bought me books to read and asked me to be better than him. even though he’s gone. he’s not.

he believed in education. he believed in me. i can’t believe i never spent time with the man. i have a memory of a man who loved people and wore formal shoes.

even though he’s gone. he’s not. please turn back the hands of time.

i have a memory of a man who loved wearing jackets and formal shoes. he had hope in his heart.