You wrote compositions
All over her body, with your hands.
She will never forget the poetic scars
That you have left behind.

Within her, there is you.
But without your presence,
She is lost and lonesome.
Lacking the touch of your lips.

The touch, upon her exquisite skin.
The scent of you, will continue to linger
Throughout the room and on her clothes.
A constant reminder, that you’re still around.

Around but nowhere near.

n.n

An intoxicated insomniac is who I am tonight,

So I will dive into waters in which I cannot swim.

I will try my luck, God knows I need it,

Because I am me and you are you, and that makes all the difference.



Here I am, behind in life, trying to get my **** together.

There you are, as beautiful as can be, with everything going for you.

Some laugh at the lonely losers, but tonight I am one.

Tunneling my vision towards a woman who can snap her fingers and have what she wants.



My drunken courage will not stop me from making a mistake.

I will undoubtedly humiliate myself tonight, just to tell you how I feel.

It has been years since I have looked at someone the way I look at you,

And I cannot quite tell what it is, but something makes you stand out.



Yes, obviously you are gorgeous, but it is more than just that.

Me thinking you are beautiful makes me no different than anyone else with a functioning pair of eyes.

I sure would like to find out what it is,

So I will make sure that I do not miss out on the chance of knowing you.



Maybe you and I can spend some time together.

Whether it be this week or next month or in twelve years.

To ask is all I came here to do,

Now my phone battery is dying.



I will talk to you in the morning and use my intoxication as an excuse for my honesty.

I will apologize for the sober words I do not have the courage to say.

And because I am me and you are you,

An intoxicated insomniac is all I will pretend to be tonight.

I live in a nook
Just beyond the pine-firs
and the rose-ferns.

Send help.

Love is deceiving: that it can put you into a chaotic hurricane of misfortune yet you will keep being so blindly lucky.

Love is manipulating: that sometimes it becomes an ultimate tool for a person to politically dominates you. It mops your own self-authority.

You'll eventually become controlled. You'll be owned, you'll be toyed, that the presence of yourself means nothing more than just a belonging brought along.

Love is voracious: that it always makes you so greedy for affection, and craving more than just attention.

As the things don't go straight forward with your wish, and you don't get what you hardly need, you'll be left suffocated. You'll gamble your very lack of happiness only to be evaporated.

Love is lonesome: that every night, it will let you so sleepless, envisioning to a constant uncertainty which frustrates you to the utmost.

There will always be a constant battle in your mind that will dig the hollow so deep beyond the control. You'll soon use to the clattering cries and more simultaneous tears evoked.

But the good thing, it will sharp your melancholic soul elegantly: so exquisite that you'll paint your feelings in a train full of letters.

You'll possess the ability to bewitch gibberish into an excruciating enchantment for the woeful lovers. Those are the one whose joy are scattered to a blow of ashes.

- April, 24 2018, 02:23 AM.