I always love that which
Is far away
From passing aeroplanes
To four years ago's yesterday
Call it nostalgia
Call it an inability to commit
A fear of holding love
In scarred hands and
Knowing I don't know
Enough

I always love the idea
Of love crossed by
Gleaming oceans of starlight
Because there lies safety
By default
No heartbreak in fate
Only a useless fight
As love burns
Forever into that awful
Good night

From where might you
Show love
Little light of day
The coast of Italy
Or distant nebulae
Perhaps too close
For comfort
and yet would you
Know your distance
A picnic lain lightly
Upon salt battered bluffs
Love, would you love from
Far enough

How I hate the seas
And the waves it brings
For it cannot surpass
The love I have for you
Nor it cannot bring
You close to me

We breathe the same air
And see the same skies
Though these seas
It cannot bring
The same tranquility in your eyes
For only it separates me
From you and the warmth
You have inside

Oh it cannot give me ease
The same as your beady eyes
So only your plastered smile
For that I will make it mine
I will not mind the gap
No matter how far
For only time could tell
If we would part or not
So I will keep them inside
In my heart
And it will be forever in my mind

A door
of trust
there may
open this
floodgate as
more orientals
come to
America again
in hopes
that their
meeting now
succumb as
such their
people live
well here
and want
eqaul pay.

distance can be
difficult
when you
are so far
from your
other

How can you know when something or someone is near or far? Or there or here? Is it the gravity felt between the souls of two people destined to be in each other's lives, similar to the moon and the ocean waves? Could it be the same feeling when you know a pair of eyes are on you in a crowded place, waiting to see what is brought upon by the twist of fates? Or maybe it's the pulling red string which stretches from two pinkies, thus binding two hearts together.  

...

I liken loving you to stargazing. On clear nights, the destination and direction--you-- are just as clear. Only the distance as usual, remains vague and vast, filling the space between us. With me reaching out to you, it was more hopeless than a child wishing on shooting stars. There were even times I had to wish for a shooting star; to wish for you falling down and into my arms.

I look for you in the places where I know I'd find you, and even in the places where I know I wouldn't. We're so close, yet so far, with every centimeter between us seeming like an eternity of a mile. You were immoveable, yet it seemed as if you were getting farther with every inch I moved closer to you. Neither my fingers nor my eyes could ever catch you.

And all so suddenly, on one clear night I realized: I didn't, couldn't and wouldn't get my answers to knowing how near or far you are to me.

It does not matter if you wake up one mile away,
or fifty hours,
or if the entire globe separates the soles of our feet.
My eyes have memorized the language of your love,
the glowing warmth of your arms that is able to be felt
through a static telephone call,
a letter sleeping patiently inside an envelope,
promises sent shooting through the indigo heavens.


I will always be with you--
the rises and runs of your heartbeat
pounding inside your head, the rush of wine-colored blood
through translucent blue veins,
I will be as close as skin meets soul,
as sweat mingles with tears.


The ridges of your hands are roadmaps I will follow
until my heels grow calloused and blistered,
and when the sky darkens, your brown eyes
will become a compass that will point
in the direction of our dreams.


We go,
but love cannot.
We change,
but love does not.
We hold,
and love holds with us.


I will love you all over again in the morning
and we will always be together--
distance breaking nothing,
our faces shining in the same light
of tomorrow’s sun.

My home is far away from here, scattered
across a coast of cliffs and geometric
birds, singing their vectors and equations.
My home is miles away from here, sands of
marble and caves of ice, filled with memories
of falling and echoes of laughter. My
home is decades away from here, a vague
childhood conjoined to a vague life of remembrance.
Lost too young and found too old, but at least
I have my new home to keep me going.
Your shaped song and vague echoes of joy will
keep me upright in this place I exist in
until I will one day be home again.

It’s raining red letters
And it’s not slowing down
Hitting the pavement
Draining the color in the earth
And it reminds me of my reflection in your eyes
Because you were the thorn in the side of my heart,
You were a rose with teeth
And your bite stung like a scraped knee
You locked me out as I banged on your door
The sound pierced the air
And I wish I was strong enough to rip through
To get to you
But I’m left out in the cold with a broken umbrella
I’m drenched, swallowed whole
And part of me wants to stay here forever
Standing on your porch
Because I feel like I can breathe when I’m actually suffocating
In raining red letters