they have always been
and always will be.
the morning doth bring laughter,
the sunset a sign of dawning anxiety.
it is loud with every chirp,
it is eerie with distant silence,
it speaks words on top of words,
it is all the layers of tame violence.
(i want to believe there is someone.
i want to believe there is laughter filling the room.
i want to feel the warmth again,
i want to see the sun rise again soon.)
i have a memory so distant
where i put pieces of me unto your palms
& whatever you do with them
i still trust
remembering your faithfulness
fixing what couldn't be fixed
until i am fully mended
it is still distant—i look back on it
as if there's fog in the way;
& when i shatter once more
you put me back together
even when i don't ask.
you do it every time.
and the fog has been lifted
& from the distant memory i recall
you have always been keeping my pieces intact
your love is the strongest adhesive;
i survive every fall.
talk to me in the form of glances
coffee held in one hand
until we finally muster the courage
to intertwine the other
it's easy to tell the difference
between wrong and right
it's easy to tell how much it contrasts;
deciphering black from white.
yet often does the shade
make everything look gray,
shadows cast may trick your eyes,
even the strongest tinge can fade.
they're a long mile apart -
a fire and a golden cup;
the fire is bound to grow
and could be put out with a puff;
yet if you let yourself be fooled
nevermind the salient rut;
it is in a ditch of eternal regret
in which you are bound to end up.
i asked for showers of rain;
one thats possibly enough
to keep the humidity away
and let the plants grow
and calm my ears with its sound
and call rainbows over
and fuel my poetry.
along with these great things,
the darkness would consume me,
the cold would freeze my bones,
lightning would scare me,
thunder would make me cry.
but it was enough.
it would always be enough for me.
a tangled mess is
what most would call it,
wrapped in a series
of unblossoming madness.
i was blinded by the fact
that i'm letting these roots grow
that i've forgotten to **** out
the thorns of all my sorrow.
her fingers tap on the wooden table
her, with thunder across her face
emotions caught in dire
eyebrows etched together
impatience. every glum beat of her heart
translate into her fingertips.
i feel sorry. tightness wraps around
my neck. eyes search for answers.
there were none in plain sight.
tap. tap. tap.
then she left without a word.
my bones are tired
all energy stripped away.
my love, you're my rest.
i like to gaze upon the night sky
with heart in my hands,
& question the universe
as to why it has placed us
many galaxies apart.
yet, the lights from above me,
once static and motionless;
they glow into a flurry.
they explode into utter magnificence.
though it was a delightful sight,
it was a loss for milky way.
it had never been the same.
by then, i am reminded that
planets keep their distance, too.
we were bound for collision;
and if we aimed to unite as one—
all that's to be expected
is inevitable nothingness.
this distance is good,
i suppose now that it is true.
the universe wouldn't want
two less lovely planets.
what if my fate lies
on a silver surface?
my plans and doubts
all thrown into a furnace.
be still and figure out
what your heart yearns for
flip the silver coin,
then flip it once more.
(he said, 'what better way to make important life decisions.')