eyes that stargaze
and eyes that hold stars.
tangled fingers and fireworks.
moments: stained with ash,
drained of color, full of passion,
eyes on a starless night.

love to showcase
and hold on display.
being apart for the whole day.
wrists: stained with pink ink,
full of bones and full of vessels,
those boastful hands, linked.

heart that shudders
as if it was cold.
listening to each other's pulse.
skies: stained with rainclouds,
gloomy, grim, and full of answers.
liminal space delight.

light that flickers
long after earth caves.
shunned and disowned,
dimmed, but still here.
eyelids: half-raised now,
ridden of doubt, sure and rhythmic,
divine mystery eyes.

Why do we expose so much of ourselves to someone? We give up so much to make them happy.
We lose ourselves in them, becoming them.
And call it "love".
Not realizing how unhappy we've become.
That your old self is gone.
That your favorite color isn't even your favorite color, it's theirs.
That you, don't even care about yourself anymore..

And if they leave what's left?
Nothing?
Emptiness?
We beg them, cry for them, and ask them to stay....why??
Because we've stopped loving ourselves.
Because without them we will have loved for nothing.

sounds become soft pitter-patters,
muffled within the overdue snow,
and light steps leave heavy tracks,
gentle  shadows overpower glow.

baby stars  and baby constellations
slowly fall from distant streetlights
only to take the center stage of it all:

the vast world around him
the bitter coldness it  holds
the serenity in the air's sigh
and the dimly lit rose skies

they become dancers
to a song unheard.