if the world is a canvas,
your hands can form lines
that connect us together

tell me all the mediums
you create our world into
the castles we live in
the stories of our forever

we are never steady
but these textures
always build the feeling
of the future we are having

so promise me
one thing
and one thing only

let us be our creators
and creations

Our eyes tell tales of our curiosity
on how it would feel
to be skin to skin
lips to lips
to submit to each other
to tease each other
playing with our desires
till we fill the room
with echoes of moans



And finally the exhale of
satisfaction.

he's calling out to her
through words with melody
capturing her heart
and all her entity
his hand skim the strings
his voice, soft like clouds
imagining he's caressing her
it's she, whom he surrounds

as a student I often imagine how it would be great if time could stop at certain point,
or at least if second lasted longer,
you know, when you have a lot of things to study but you’re short on time?
i bet you imagined that,
you had to.
of course, that is just our imagination playing with us, nothing else.

but what if it can be done?

sitting at class, listening teacher’s lecture can sure prolong the time,
we all know that,
but there is something more.

maybe some guy who sits in front of you
who runs his hands through his hair may prolong your seconds, even if you didn’t thought he could.
you see yourself stare for seconds, and stare for minutes at him and his hair.

your eyes put focus at him and blur everything else,
just like when we are taking a photo with our camera.
it focuses on things we want to be focused like it knows what we want
and it takes a photo and save it on memory forever.

and you ears cannot hear anything.
well, you hear everything but it all feels like you’re on concert and everyone else is yelling
but you are quiet because they are playing your favorite song
and you know it’s more beautiful if you feel it rather than jumping and yelling around.
it’s almost you could cry, but you’re too shy.
and all your other senses like smelling or pain except feeling starts to float in the room.
you start to feel his hands going through his softly, fluffy hair like it’s your own.
and he does it all over again.
and again,
and again.
and every time it’s like he does it
and you’re floating in the air of emotions and
it’s heaven.

--------------

he stops.

your eyes can see normally again and you hear professor lecturing again.
then you start to feel pain in your leg because it became numb.
you’re back, but you will always be able to feel that again, whenever you want
because you, just like camera, saved it in your little brain.
there will be days before you feel something like that again,
and there will be so many nights that you will dream about that again
and again.

do you believe me now?
do you believe that seconds can be prolonged?
I think you should.

I glanced at him, while the trapped light of morning danced through the blinds and graced his cheeks,
looking for peace.
He could be a metaphor,
an effortless poem, one that ink and paper could never hold
His hands entwine with mine, rough hands so carelessly comforting and eyes embedded in a trance.
His laugh so warm, to mimic flames,
he is a fire, my every desire.

Show me your soul, naked and unmasked.
I will reciprocate with my unbound flaws and once hidden heart to be unsheltered in your trust.

     You hold a smile more marvellous than a captured sunset in Autumn with glorious colours at work to create a circle of eternity.

The downside
of falling in love
with people
who make you feel
sparks
and fireworks
in your heart
comes
when they leave you
with nothing but
ashes and smoke.