I can hear the chaos of your promises
I can hear the lies, so strong I begun to take as truth
I feel the silence of your heart,
Emotions far too lost .
So frigile her heart became;
The blades of your words as pen on paper
Inked her soul ,her love ,her sorrow.

The empty room filled with dust had me caughing, I ran fingers over dusty furniture's that led me back to that time.
It seemed so unreal...the way we held out till dawn. Where the old bed-head stood was where we first made love...I saw u, you were right there.

Nights I use to ran off with you, to a sweet escape just to feel your warm embrace. We shared skittles and laughters, we never meant to scare our parents.
But the thought of getting lost with each other was fascinating.

I snapped back into the present by the scent of old cloth, they were covered in paint...we left our painted hands printed on white T-shirts.

I miss you so much it hurts. Don't wonder why I came back here to this old cabin. We made life easy here, how could I forget.

These lingering memories stayed with me,  we built this...this was where we had our first kiss.

S.B

i've tried to separate my soul into several pieces of dust and scatter them until i can't feel anything at all, including love for you. i picture myself far, far away; maybe some place close to where you are now, or maybe in a void where everything i've ever said loses all its meaning.

what a wonderful day that would be.

you look at me
I look at you
you look at me

you look at me
I close my eyes
and .. you look at me

again and again
I feel wrapped
by your gaze

a rainbow bird
imprisoned
in a golden cage

settled
silent
on a flowers swing

an amber powder butterfly
locked
in her silk cocoon

dense twine of looks
and static silences
and broken wings

Like that old sweater
In the back of your closet,
You know the one I'm talking about;
It was your favorite,
You wore it all the time,
And it may not fit right anymore,
But you can't get rid of it,
Well, because it was your favorite
For all these years,
There are so many memories
Tied to that sweater.
And maybe not all of them are happy,
Or make you smile when you wear it,
But it hold the secrets and scars of your past,
So you have to keep it, naturally.
But every time you take that sweater
From the back of your closet to see
If it matches your outfit,
And you decide,
Maybe not today,
You see the faded color,
You see the memories,
And you know, just like your sweater,
You're wearing thin.