Sometimes I would like writings  to remain untitled.
Because somehow  it’s  unfair that a  profound feeling explained in a whole paragraph that makes my miserable heart ache in an unreasonable way to be reduced in a one-single word.

The mirror is a story
Of a body with smooth scars
So it appears on smooth glass

The mirror is a story
Of a mind to remind man
Of his thoughts unforeseen

The mirror is a story
Of an heart of darkness
And the give and take of kamar

The mirror is a story
Of beauty and ugliness
For those with eyes to see

The mirror is a story
Of our past and our now
And of those lies we lie  

The mirror is a story
Of those who dine
At the corner of lost glory

The mirror is a story
Of a skeletally written matter
With an opportunity to wear death

©kuvar_

Grow sunflower, grow!
Grow outside my window and stretch your leaves like wings!
So I can see them when I sleep!
Break this weak glass
and the cheap screen holding the house together
walk through the threshold into my room
and rest your petals on my windowsill
wait with me as the cold passes
although sometimes we feel like it never will.

There's crumbs, all over my computer, all over my pants, all over
Me
Entropy, the natural state is it?
Humans attempting to force the unnatural?
The little graham ******* crumbs,
nothing keeping them together
anymore
But still, each individual crumb upon my lap houses millions of billions of trillions of
Individual pieces, that house
And so on               and                  So forth
Till you get to atoms
And eventually,
quarks

But, is it worth,
Looking, thinking, so infinitesimally small
When,
We've got bigger matters on our plate?
Things so large, red, and shiny, that they take up all the space
Except the little cracks that we miss,
Forget,
Or don't care about altogether

Because we've got bigger fish to fry


Right?
But then,
If we always keep chasing the dragon,
Won't we miss the shooting star lighting up the sky for just a moment?

You used to trace infinity signs
Looped patterns traced on scarred skin
and useless breathes
Small signs of tranquility
When my thoughts were nothing but a rough sea
Now
I trace infinity signs
Since those small hand movements
Became the difference between
Coming down
And
Crashing down
In its own way
Those infinity signs
Held some sort of forever
Maybe not between you and i
But rather
In the promise of being okay

colors
is good
for those who looking
for meanings
death is so good
for those who got
the meaning of
colors

Don't listen
To my words
Pay Attention
To the spaces
Between them.
They contain
The galaxy,
And the stars among it
Spell out what I really mean.



                     (p.p)