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joan Nov 2017
music notes in your veins
melodies in your chest
clearly, when you sing your song
the stars shine the brightest

the universe sings with you
the planets stills to listen
and i, darling, will be just right here
finding poems in you yet to be written

fire of passion in your soul
dreams to chase in your vision
you dance with stars in your feet
lovely when rhythm sends you in motion

the cosmos is you
stars are planted under your skin
every constellation lie in your eyes
and i have loved you in every scene
ㅡ to ljh, my cosmos, happy birthday. thank you for dreaming and chasing it, for smiling bright, for singing with your heart, for making me fall for you, for living.
joan Jun 2017
i want
to know:
i am also
worth it
joan Jun 2017
i don't want to let go
of the hands
i have yet to hold
hold me, instead.
  Jun 2017 joan
Pablo Neruda
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.
joan Jun 2017
they said on the dark,
stars shine the brightest
certainly, they haven't seen you dance
on stage when the lights are off
and the spotlight is on you
[—to my dancing star // happy birthday, ksy, thank you for dancing, for lighting up my world, for making me love you, for being born]

— The End —