There are hearts that break
in silence, with tears
that nobody can see.

So maybe,
                just maybe…

Some tears demand
to be written by the poet's pen,
so others can find beauty
in that which makes us cry.

Maybe,
           just maybe…

The tears of the poets' pen,
unveils the beauty
of love and pain
giving comfort to others
that they’re not alone.

And then again
maybe,
          just maybe…

There will be times
that nobody
will understand your feelings…

Write them anyway
because they are still
so **** beautiful!!*
~

Hand me the palette
If you can
I'm not a great artist
But I'll try my best
To colour the universe
inside your weary soul
In kaleidoscopic hues
Brighter than the rainbows
Of spring summer
And other verdant seasons
I'll try to revive
It's lustre back
Make the sun shine
As bright as I can
Scrub away
The clouds of despair
And the monsoon rains
I'll wipe with my hands
After I've accomplished my art
I'm sure I will see
your smile again
Your eyes will gleam
With boundless joy
And you won't even remember
What made you feel
So sad and desolate
In the first place

ＪＪｓｂｄｋｓｎｄｋｋｄｍｘｍｊｓｈＪｕｓｔｌｅｔｍｅｄｉｅｍｍｍｋｂｈｂｘｊｄｎｘｎｂｄｊｘｂｄｎｘｎｎｘｎｘｎＩｍｓｏｔｉｒｅ­ｄｏｆｔｈｉｓｎｓｊｓ ｎｋｋｓｂｄｎｄｎｂｄｔｈｅｓｅ ｔｅａｒｓ ｗｏｎｔｓｔｏｐｊｄｊｄｎｎ ｚｎｊｓｎｎｄｕｄｎｄｋｄｋｎｆｋｄｍｓｓｎｆｎｊｄｎｄｎｎｄｂｄｂｄｂｄｎＷｈｙｔｈｅｐａｉｎｓｔｉｌｌｌｉｖｅｓｉｎ ｍｙｈｅａｒｔｊｊｘｎｘｊｘｊｄｎ ｍｙｋｄｊｄｖｊｓｎｄｊｃｊｎｄｎｄｎｃｎｘｋｘｎｋｘｎｄｋｄｋｊｄｎｓｋｘｈｊｓｈｄｊｄｄｎｄｅＩｍｓｏｆｕｃｋｉｎｇｔｉｒｅｄ­ｍｓｎｎｄｋｓｎｘｏｎｓｈｘｉｄｎｋｘｎｄｊｓｊｄｂｊｄｋｓｌｍｓｎｄｊｊｄｂｄｉｓｂｄｊｊｄｋｓｎｄｊｄｈｂｓｎｄｎｎｄｊｄｊｄ­ｎｄｎｄ


Ｙｏｕｌｌｎｅｖｅｒｕｎｄｅｒｓｔａｎｄ ｍｅ

I kept chasing
you, as if
you were
a distant dream.
But dreams
are not always
dreams.
Sometimes, we have
nightmares too.

you’ve always been in the back of my mind
lingering
as if somehow, someday we would find our way back to one another
I’d tell you how the years all ran together until you held me again
and timing wouldn’t decide our fate
and distance wouldn’t make much of a difference
right now you’re where you are and I’m not really sure where I am
but without it meaning too much you should know
I am never not thinking of you

heartfelt notes springing out
from tough strings beneath the pads of my fingers
gently holding a wooden bow
that sways to the sound it produces
creating sounds of somber joy
and terraced tones creating
a magnificent cacophony
that makes my heart soar
chin resting on glowing wood
my violin creates a secret world.