You asked to have me too?

I’m a lilac, after all… or were I?
You don’t believe, that until recently
I smelled and bloomed

Greedy hands were reaching out to me
They picked and tore, and took my bloom away
My odor… stolen by the wind

My leaves…
A mist desired them, eyes watering
And so I gave
But to a cloud she ran away
And built a nest from them
My branches…
Caressed by frost-bitten beggar
She too asked to have them
I gave again
She put them to the fire

You asked to have me too?

I’m a lilac, after all… or were I?
Ever seen the aroma and the bloom of sin?

Your eyes perhaps caught too much light or tears?
Are you disappointed; maybe bored? Don’t go.
It seems there’s nothing left for you but you are wrong

Beneath your feet, buried deep within the soil
My root is dwelling waiting for the spring
The last and best of me
I hid and kept it just because
I’m a lilac, after all… or were I?
If you’d like I’ll show you how I used to bloom

Where are you going

Wait

Don’t you want me anymore

I see a lot of things people miss,
and am a lot of things;
those people don't see.

...even though sometimes
I want them to.

Our relationship was like the part in a movie when two people run towards each other and the main character looks so unbelievably happy and they close their eyes and just as they are about to embrace the other veers right and jumps into the arms of another.

In a world of puddles,
Dare to be an ocean.

Of course I can't remember the first time I thought of something good about myself. But I remember hating my skin because others hated it too.

Not everyone was born as mesmizing as Mona Lisa, capturing the heart of a certain Da Vinci and being immortalized in a masterpiece.

Some are birthed like a venus flytrap, often overlooked or overly looked at for being different. But their strongness is to be applauded, and their beauty entices you to feel them until you can't let go. Their charm makes the goddess of beauty ashamed of its name.

I was born of ashes and smokes and volcanic eruption, and also of rivers and harps that gave pain and joy to my mother and father.

My eyes are made of cosmic dusts, you can see galaxies in them. My lips are strong as fishing knots able to spit hooks, catch whales, and tame them.

Every word I speak seduces the one who listens, and like the Titanic, it is too late to realize that you have encountered an ice berg.

My heart is carved in diamonds and salvation, strong on the outside but there is heaven within after you pass through forests of healed anxiety and scars.

My pen always writes novels and poetry and secret love letters to the moon. But my glass window walls them, I am not sure if ever she has heard them.

My feet take me to my room, for there is my comfort and there are my books.

I am not as mesmerizing as Mona Lisa - possessing beauty of the golden ratio - but I can be The Starry Night, a masterpiece made under various weather conditions. Maybe seen as a failure at first, but turned out to be one of the best.

Traveller, scuba-diver
Sailor swearing wherever she goes
But never in front of a crowd
No, if you want to
apologize for something
you've said,
better find out where she's hiding.

Look where it's darkest,
but bring a flashlight;
she wears black
to hide from spiders and snakes.