Pink
Smooth petals
And heavenly smell
Combined with the
Enchanting smell
Coming from the earth
Due to the summer rain
The drizzling
Its enjoying
The view
Of the gladoius flower
Playing games
with the drizzling
Through the mist
I can see
The way how the rain
Kisses the petals
Of the gladious flower

Just a daisy on a field of roses,
A plain boring white sock over a colorful one;
Never was a second to none.

When it comes
to loving me,
there is something
you must understand.
I am a hurricane,
moving hundreds
of miles across
the open sea.
Strewn in all directions,
a chaotic symphony
of madness
and clarity.
When you are
standing in the midst
of my storm,
do not fear my thunder.
Know it will pass,
with a delicate rain,
and the sun shining
bright overhead.

They told me not to be afraid
They told me not to hide
It is time to face it

I practiced every single day
practice makes perfect
It trained me to be better and better

I am now well prepared
I sharpened my blade
Ready to slice every obstacle away
Ready to cut through every single issues

I prepared a shiny armour
To avoid people from hurting me
Especially my fragile heart

I learned how to fight
So that I can fight for myself
So that I can stand up for myself
Because I have countless scars left on me

I am ready
I am ready to face tomorrow
I am well prepared
For all the obstacles I'm about to face
Because *I am a warrior

I wear a mask
That isn't adorned by any jewels
I wear the simple white mask
That was made from my mother's skin
And it sits uncomfortable and stuck,
Covering the suffering of my father
Covering the suffering of my grandfather
Covering the suffering of my own secret self.
I wear a mask
By no one's choice but life
I wear the simple white mask
That sits stoic and still,
And I tried once to pry it off,
But it was nothing more than skin,
And under was nothing more than muscle
And under was nothing but blood and bone
I wear a mask
That will not hide my blemishes
I wear the simple white mask
That will not define me
And I remind myself of this
As someone asks me what I am
As someone asks me what my father was
As someone asks me what my grandfather was
And my mask stays its stoic grin
And my mask stays my tongue.

i lean in to the darkness
inside of me
not to the people
that give it to me.

i was drowning in your galaxies of blue.
blue so pale- like your    e   y   e  s
when i swore i could feel them on me but
you weren't there.
i was drowning in your galaxies
in which the stars would shine
shine bright / bright light / bright white light / pale bright white light-
not like printer paper in the sun
more like the pigment of your skin
in the moonlight.

i didn't mind. drowning didn't seem
so bad.
because even though i felt awful and sad, i
also felt loved,
and that was so very pretty to me
as a poet. as a lonely star amidst
constellations.

you almost said the "l" word
a total of (probably) seven times in the five
long-short months that
we were almost lovers.
i actually said the "l" word
a total of five times.
twice as a half joke, hoping you'd pick up
where i slacked in clarity but never
in sincerity
and three times (thrice) in my goodbye
in which i beheld these self-evident truths:

that the almost (always almost) meant
that we could never be lovers
and i thought that i'd prefer us to be nothing to each
other but maybe friends.

(maybe, maybe, maybes make me want to wish on stars
but not the ones in your eyes)

and although time flies
i'm still somehow drowning in your galaxies
of blue.

and i wonder if its killing me
slowly
as your stars blink
and i'm gone
when they open their eyes.
*almost.