a dull ache, 
a crashing pain.
wistfulness from afar,
love from within.
a smile with watery eyes
disguising the heartache. 
tales pass through lips,
minds strengthening memories.
imagining him at your side,
knowing he won't be there,
but wondering anyway.
wanting to see the past
and stay in the present 
and experience the future.
thinking about whether 
you're meant to be
or if the finality will reign.
weather, cities, 
conversations, the world,
bringing you back 
to memories with him. 
his special touch 
stayed with you - 
and it will always stay.

If I went back in time I’d kick myself in the shin,
try to grow a spine and then reinforce my chin,
with hardened steel over rusted tin.
‘Cause it’s taken hits beyond count, infact I’ve lost track of the amount,
but I know even with my jaw broken I can still force out a grin.

I don’t want to have to lie
but it seems I’m guided into it for an alibi,
and I can’t help but question why I try,
when there’s no one to answer to; just time flying by.

I’m not as stupid as I act,
but I guess I can say I’m a good actor.
I make a sound but immediately retract,
because in a split second I balance every factor.
I don’t want to be another casualty
in a war effort so effortlessly,
in a fight that shouldn’t concern me,
but my flight instinct took flight instinctively.

If I could go back in time I’d clock myself in the face,
past me would rebut “what a disgrace,”
while I’d agree to the mirrored me who’s never finishing, **** even last place.
I know that my shoes were tight and tied,
I was at the line waiting I never could hide,
but still I’d trip and flounder, I should’ve double checked each lace.

I don’t want to have to lie
but it seems it’s better than admitting defeat or spitting out a goodbye.
And I can’t help but wonder why,
I even cry when I’ve taped my mouth shut and closed each eye.

The butterfly of my effect has lost each wing,
trapped in a jar, not going far;
what a tragic thing.
I press my hand against the dome,
to let it be known, it’s not alone,
this prison’s now it’s home.

Poetry has given me the ability to travel through time
to stand in shoes I abandoned on the concrete.
Paint the scenery in every word and rhyme,
and change the outcome in each stanza and beat.

I fully feel the sun shine and the wind’s blow
every single day like I’ve just arrived and met.
Now I’m cursed to be a Romeo to a stand in Juliet.
Design the plan for me, and I’ll blur the lines and matra,
I’ll fight as Marc Anthony to only one Cleopatra.

you cant change the past.
you cant see in the future,
but you can change it
with the present

People say,
the best present
you could give
to someone
is love.
But love
can come
in any form,
any shape,
or any manner.
As for me,
my kind of love,
is simply
walking away.

I think that if I keep writing,

I will one day write you and I back together.

We'll dance across these fairy tale pages,
Stumbling over the "I missed you's"
And the "I love you's."

It's hard to finish a book with no sequel.
It's hard to resuscitate a life that has died.

But if there's any chance that I can rewind the clock,
To breathe air into us one more time,
To make a second chance,

I'll just keep writing.

Meeting after long period
Meeting after long absent
She had asked
He had asked
"why did you late?"

She answered
To gather my thought
To feel how I demand
You when you are absent
Or even you are present

He said,'
To see myself
Equal to you to give
The happy you dream and want
As you are the most brilliant
I had ever acquitted