Maybe she sees
Gentle rays of the sun
Glimmer from my face
Just like how I see her:
The light in the darkness
Of life's obscure fog

I wonder if she feels
The warm summer breeze
That would slowly blow
Upon her soft cheeks
Whenever I speak
The same breeze I feel
When she tells me
Nothings and somethings

I hope she feels
The slight glow
Of white moonlight
When my arms wrap around her
The very same glow
Whenever her arms
Lock themselves behind me
Sending me a message
To never let her go

I wish she forgets seeing
The heavy rains
That flood the roads on my face
Whenever I asked
If I were enough for her
Or if I were too much to handle

I wish she understands
The cyclones in my head
That clap thunder and flash lightning
Whenever the anger in me
Boils the chaotic saltwater
And creates tsunamis
In the vast ocean of my mind

I wish she forgives me
For the hailstorms in my words
That fall to the ground
And break like glass shards
That shatter windows and roofs
And car windshields and windows

I am a force of nature

you say that i am your sun
because i am the center of your universe
and touching my skin gives you warmth.
i know that you are my moon
because you are always beside me when i am awake at 3 am
and you light my path home when i am stumbling
and drunk on you.
together we are an eclipse
one touch can send the whole world up in flames
i will always rise in the east
and set in the west
and we will never revolve around anyone else
but each other

Master Manipulator
Parading around with all his strings
Trying to control
Persuade  
Use her to carry out his way of things
Why does everything always
have to be on his terms
Why does she even listen to  
all his mean and careless words
She is a real person
not just a puppet for his life
Now on to him and his ways
She finally sees the real him and understands
and is why she now carries scissors
in her hand :)

Somewhere between the words that we speak and the echoes of what remains unsaid, there is an opening waiting for some truth to be revealed.

Consider this.

In the morning, love is two particles waving in and out of reality, two particles beyond the conceptions of space and time.  In the night, love tip-toes across the moon, and at some random point seeps into the dreams of those who sleep alone.

I was sleeping alone the night you passed away.  I left many things echoing in the opening where the unsaids go to peacefully die.  You know, the imaginary space and how it all dissolves somewhere between your perception and mine.  

I went to sleep the night after you died, and you were waiting for me in a canyon covered with gold.  The water, fresh and crisp, and we could not stop jumping from the top of the waterfall to the clear green pool below.  

There were no words between us, no conceptions of space or time.  I remember the feeling of the sparkling paint and foreign images engraved into the gold stone walls, how we leaped from part of the canyon to the next.  

I remember this, the last collision of your perception and mine, an opening in an imaginary canyon where the unsaids go because they don't want to die.

I think this means you forgive me, even though I haven't yet committed the crime.  

I'm still considering this.

Somewhere between the things we believe are real and the things that do actually exist, there is an opening, a canyon, and a beautiful waterfall.  

I think you still visit there from time to time, and I would like to go once more, too.

The only problem is, every time I try to speak, the truth forgets, the opening is dissolved.