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chang cosido Jun 1
you remind me of matches.
the matches that dont just kiss.
the matches that crave for friction.
we crash ceaselessly
and burn on each other's skins.
we turn into ashes.
and do it all over again.
you remind me of matches.
and how it feels to be something alive.
chang cosido Mar 30
my neighbor likes her fresh laundry smelling like flowers.
the scent wafts through the air and hurts my lungs as i lay inside my room making what i sometimes call poetry.
today, i dont like it.
it reminds me of dying.
it reminds me of the flowers
that people who love me  will someday leave by my grave.
or even the wild ones that will grow out of it.
maybe there will be plenty
or maybe there will be none.
but today, the flowers had waltzed into my room
and people are dying fast enough.  
Today, im closing the windows shut.
chang cosido Mar 24
what i know about my sadness is that it is clumsy.
i still keep finding the things
it left behind.
on places where it shouldn't belong.
and like a fool, i still claim them.
chang cosido Mar 20
And i like to think
that the wind carries
our songs, prayers and silent pleas  and it ends up somewhere.
Maybe it moves the clouds
to other places
or sways the trees.
sometimes they rustle or shake
as if to answer.
as if to say ,
"we heard you, you are not alone"
chang cosido Feb 9
Regret never leaves.
we only ever know how to dress it
and  make it easier to carry around.
my regrets are familiar figures under tulle .
they dance at the corners
of my periphery.
if i had chosen differently,a bit wisely-
will these ghosts still haunt me?
or will it all be the same?
just another ghost
with just another pretty face.
chang cosido Nov 2021
the truth is,
not everyone is good at this.
not every breath goes in
without getting caught in your throat.
no hands are ever good at holding on,
especially when
everything seems to just slip away.
some eyes never run dry
and some hearts never seem to
run out of pieces that break.
chang cosido Nov 2021
sweet little girl,
here's your silly paper boat
we hastily folded on a sunday afternoon
with the sun so hot outside
you swore it could burn all of our sins
to crisp.
here's your silly paper boat,
that melts upon water's kisses-
so you offer your body
to the river instead
then we would float on the water
like dead men.
and you swore it was easier that way.
here's your silly paper boat
sinking the way it should
on the pool of your own blood.
sweet little girl,
you were like your silly paper boat.
weightless and
so tired of sinking.
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