With all the stars in between,
I'm in love with the moon.

She said in anger
“I was princess
Living at my land
Every thing I wanted
Was come, was brought
I loved the world
When I went to swim
At the river that
Passed at my land
Carrying happy and good
Beside me my friends
Girls at my age
Some men appeared
And kidnapped me and some
Friends and took us out
We all were sold
Slave was treated
I stayed at that
After trials of escape
I was hurt very heart
I satisfied with that
Till I was sold
To your master that
Hurt you dearest, dearest
One”
He said “what you said?
I am dearest in fact”
She said and bowed her hear head
In beauty, in smart
She said “how do you come?
I was at that land
Called Ethiopia”
She said “that was my land”
They said truly at loud
They laughed then cried
He said “I was the master's son
Leader of many families
Prepared to be the second
Leader at my nations
When I was trained
I was kidnapped
I was taken out
And stayed at that land”
She said “that is bad”
He said “that is bad”

Which one is better to choose? Infinity light or infinity dark? Both of them are alone. Because they so  deep. They can't see anything around them. Either way I'm gonna be alone. because if I can't see them that means they can't see me either.

I tiptoe on definitions,
trusting that
eloquence and versed language
might be enough.

Underneath the sky, love is a language.

No one is fluent,
but words become my way.

It takes time,
and I might stumble.
But love,
listen.

Between lines, I am true.

I am full of intricate detail
that makes no sense
unless you
listen.

-E.K.

Never aim too high
Never aim too low
Betwixt and between
Lies beautiful poetry

For the heat of the sun melts
The salt of the sea corrodes
Betwixt and between
The stories unfold

The souls combust
The spirits submerge
Betwixt and between
Our words emerge

Always better to smile than a frown,
                   for smiles mean happiness
                has greeted your thoughts.

And that life isn't always **** ,
             that there is always some gold lining
in those grey clouds hanging around.

Chronology decaying within
                    the humour of passing
                                            shadows.

For­ everything that's birthed
                    laughers at the finality
                                            of death.

But is sullen when they hang
                       between both existences.

He texts me.
It’s impersonal.
What was I expecting it to be?
There’s no real connection except that of a single flame in the altogether too dark caves- or cavres- of our hearts.
I almost backspace it all.

He texts me.
He tells me I’m cute.
Cute is a compliment that’s too easy.
There is nothing in cuteness except that of a noncommittal compliment but it’s meant to make my cheeks blush.
It doesn’t. Nothing does.

He texts me.
It’s nothing at all.
We aren’t saying a thing.
There’s nothing worth saying when you’re talking in circles with a man who can’t understand that you’re more than a surface you show to the world.  
So I say nothing. He says nothing.

He texts me.
We say goodnight.
What was I expecting to feel?
There is nothing in these feelings except that which reminds me of you and I hate that that’s all it is.
So I sit down and think.

And I write you a message.
Every line I want to tell you, everything everything everything that makes me sad that you’re gone.
Everything everything everything that makes me well up in tears- in emotions I thought I was finished feeling.
So I sit down and I write and I write all of everything down.

And I backspace it all.

i complain about the wall between us
but i am the one who built it