Mía fue, como fueron
míos sus besos;
mía, como rosas y versos.

Mía, nunca fue, pero
suyo todavía soy.

Mía, ya no es, lo sé; pero
suyo seré, tal vez
por siempre, o simplemente por hoy.

Si no me encuentras donde solía esperarte,
no pienses que me fui;
tal vez me perdí buscándote en mí mismo.

He sido un mapa sin rutas,
una brújula herida por el norte de tus ojos,
y aun así, caminé.
Caminé con la esperanza
de que el eco de tu voz
algún día me guiara de vuelta.

No quise ser eterno,
solo inolvidable.
No quise que me amaras para siempre,
solo que no me olvidaras tan fácil.

Si no me encuentras,
búscame en las cosas pequeñas:
el silencio entre dos canciones,
el respiro antes de una lágrima,
el temblor leve cuando alguien dice tu nombre.

तेरी वफ़ाओं की तलाश में जो रोज मरता था
आज अफसोस है की मैं तुझपे इतना क्यूँ मरता था
हाँ दुनिया थी तुम मेरी और आज भी हो
उसी बात को तो सोच के मैं रोज मरता हूं
तेरे आने के इंतज़ार कल भी था और आज भी हो
हर पल अब उस प्यार की मैं खोज करता हूं

Did you ever think of staying?
Or was leaving the only way
you knew how to love me?

Was I too much,
or not enough?
Did I ask for things
you couldn’t give,
or did you offer less
than you were able?

I wonder if you held back your truth
to protect me,
or to protect yourself
from watching me fall apart.

The answers don’t come.
But the questions—
they stay.
Lodged somewhere between
my ribs and my memory,
quiet,
persistent,
unanswered.

She Showed Me How

She came into this world so fast,
A moment stamped into my past.
I was young—too young to know
How deep a father’s roots must grow.

I loved her, yes, but love alone
Can’t raise a child or build a home.
I stumbled, scared, without a plan,
Half-boy, half-heart, not yet a man.

The years moved on, she grew apart,
And guilt pressed heavy on my heart.
A bond undone, a missed first day,
A thousand things I didn’t say.

Then came her—my brand new wife,
A steady soul who lit my life.
She saw the cracks I tried to hide,
And stood not back, but by my side.

She didn’t scold the boy I’d been,
She met the man I am within.
With kindness, patience, grace so wide,
She drew my daughter to our side.

She opened doors I’d left closed tight,
Spoke softer truths, turned wrongs to right.
Invited joy where silence grew,
And helped me learn what dads must do.

Now laughter rings where doubt once lay,
My daughter knows I’m here to stay.
And every smile we share right now
Begins with her—she showed me how.

For all I missed, for where I fell,
She loved me through and loved me well.
And in her hands, I found my way—
A father formed, a debt I’ll pay.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

One Sweet Song

The road rolled out like a soft refrain,
Through fields and sky and summer rain.
You tapped the dash in perfect time,
Barefoot joy and rolling hills climb.

We chased the hum of strings and soul,
To Alpine Valley, heart and goal.
A roadtrip wrapped in songs we knew,
Just me, and love, and growing you.

The air was thick with dust and heat,
The kind of night that makes you weak.
We found our place beneath the stars,
The crowd like echoes from afar.

And then it played—our favorite one,
“One Sweet World” beneath the sun.
Your hand flew fast across your dress,
Your eyes lit up, your lips confessed:

“He moved—he kicked, he’s dancing too.”
I swear, the sky turned deeper blue.
A tiny foot, a beat, a flame,
In that moment, everything changed.

The music swelled, the lights went wide,
But all I saw was you inside—
Your glowing face, your breath held tight,
Our son alive beneath that night.

We stood still in that sacred swell,
Where love and sound and future dwell.
Dave sang on, the world felt small,
But inside us, it held it all.

One sweet world, one perfect start,
A song, a kick, a bursting heart.
That night will live where dreams begin—
The first time we heard him dance within.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

Summer Cut

The sun hangs low, a golden sigh,
As dusk rolls in across the sky.
We’re side by side in evening’s hum,
The mower growls, the constant drum.

You push the line with steady grace,
Sweat like diamonds on your face.
That tank top clings in all the right ways—
I pause my task, caught in a daze.

Your hips, the sway, the strength, the fire—
Even in work, you spark desire.
Each pass you make, each blade you bend,
Turns labor into sweet pretend.

I watch from far, heart in a race,
Wanting more than just this space.
Your body glows in fading light—
You, the heat, this perfect night.

We finish slow, the yard laid bare,
Your fingers pulling loose your hair.
You glance at me with that old spark—
And just like that, I lose the dark.

The hose runs cold, but the shower waits—
Steam will rise, as passion wakes.
Hands will find familiar skin,
And what we start out here, begins within.

The grass is done, the stars climb high—
But darling, it’s your moan, not the sky,
That I’ll replay when day is through—
You, the night, and all we do.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved

Ole, the Goodest Boy”

We brought you home in a blur of gold,
A ball of fluff with eyes so bold.
You tumbled in, all paws and grace,
And filled the quiet with your pace.

We named you Ole, soft and sweet,
With clumsy steps and dancing feet.
A leash, some treats, a training plan—
We shaped your world with gentle hands.

Together we learned sit and stay,
And how to chase the fear away.
We wiped your paws, you stole our socks,
And greeted dawn with barks and walks.

The kids would cheer, you’d wag so proud,
Your ears a-flop, your bark so loud.
You weren’t just ours—you quickly knew,
You had a bigger job to do.

Through months of work, we watched you grow,
With vests and tests and healing slow.
You learned to listen, calm, and wait,
To walk through every heavy gate.

And when you passed that final test,
We cried and laughed—we knew the rest:
You’d be a light for those in pain,
A soft reminder through the rain.

Now Ole walks with heart so wide,
A gentle soul right by our side.
A doodle dog with purpose clear,
Bringing hope and wiping tears.

So proud are we, this family three,
To see what love and work can be.
A golden heart, a friend so true—
Dear Ole, we believe in you.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

After the War, the Work

You came home not to silence—
but to sirens in your sleep.
Not to parades or picnics,
but to nights too dark, too deep.

The fourth of July felt like mortar rounds—
I held you as you hit the ground.
Neighbors smiled, lit fuses bright,
but I saw the panic flood your sight.

No one told them the war comes home.
That heroes flinch when fireworks groan.
That strength sometimes means shaking hands,
and needing help just to stand.

You tried to teach again—
chalk instead of chains,
kids’ laughter instead of drills,
but they sent you packing all the same.

Said “contract’s done,”
like your worth could expire.
But I’ve seen you walk through fire.
You don’t fold—you rise higher.

We fought back, side by side—
me, your shadow, your anchor, your guide.
Letters, calls, protests made—
we turned quiet pain into loud crusade.

And you stood there—tired, proud,
in front of that cold, gray crowd.
Not with rage, but steady breath,
proof that healing isn’t death.

I hold you close when sleep won’t come,
when thunder rolls and hearts go numb.
You were a soldier, still are to me—
in classrooms, in courtrooms,
in therapy.

The war is over, they like to say,
but I see it in you every day.
And still—you teach, you fight, you try.
My warrior in the softest light.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

A Cell for Love

I wrote a message late one night—
Not hate, not rage, just one last plea.
A heart too full, a soul mid-flight,
Still holding on to what we’d be.

But law saw threat where I meant grace,
And cold steel slammed across my name.
I landed in the darkest place,
Branded by a lover’s shame.

Beside me, mur der wore a grin,
And ra pe had eyes like hollow graves.
And here I sat with trembling skin,
A man who only tried to save.

I wasn’t perfect, never claimed,
But I believed in what we had.
In vows and tears and midnight talks,
In fighting through the good and bad.

You asked for space—I gave too late.
You drew the line—I crossed in hope.
I didn’t know love could equate
To cuffs, to bars, to twisted rope.

They said, “You violated law,”
And maybe, yes, that’s what it seems.
But all I did was speak of love—
Of shattered hearts and broken dreams.

How did “I miss you” turn to chains?
How did “Please talk” become a crime?
I wasn’t stalking, wasn’t cruel—
Just stuck inside our ruined time.

And now I sit among the worst,
Men who’ve stolen breath and light.
I whispered love, and now I’m cursed
To dream of you through endless night.

I should have listened, should have known
That silence meant a needed wall.
But grief can beg when left alone—
And hope is stubborn when we fall.

So here I write from this cold floor,
Still reeling from the cost of care.
You’re gone, the door is locked once more,
And love became my cross to bear.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.