One time, we were just talking
Then I asked him, “do you like poetry?”
He said “no, not really”
That’s when I knew
That’s when I knew that we were not right for each other
If I live poetry
And I breathe poetry
If I speak poetry
And I eat poetry
If I dance poetry
And I sing poetry
If I sleep with poetry
And I wake up with poetry
If poetry was my peace
And one of the gift God gave me,
Then who are you to be with me and not love poetry
For I make poetry
And poetry makes me
If you don’t like poetry
You don’t like me

You asked
What is the scariest part?

I answer
The scariest part
is not the feeling of loneliness
or the darkness that fills you
despite the looming pain
of emptiness

The scariest part
is the realization  
that you have lost yourself
completely
sinking in as you lay awake
at 2 AM
because you lost the ability to sleep
and you can't even cry
because you don't even care

nothing to do, nowhere to go
a little music, soon soft snow
alone, time’s zone - who really knows?

                 my little room

even when your stem has dried up
and can no longer support you
even when your petals wilt and blacken
and are carried away by the wind

i will love you no less
than when you first bloomed