you were the closest dot
standing next to me
we visually blended together
to look like love from a distance

speaking the unspeakable, unspoken, and never-to-be-spoken, speechless speeches in an unspeakable way speaks my soul.

when I hide my face behind my hands
does life still continue with demands
and all its harshness and bad plans
through all the toxicant pangs?
I will keep my eyes closed and hold my breath
Until you come back from death

We just sat there silently
and sipped coffee
without knowing that
you would leave around this time next year
hummingbirds would sip the most delicious nectars from the flowers
                            and hover, fly and glide in all directions
to pollinate life elsewhere
                                                                    and I would be left without you

I wake up with the blinding lights of the new day
and take a shower to let the water wash away my despondency
I put on makeup to desperately
hide my depression
then look through the window desolately  
to watch the morning dispiritedly
I take my time to prepare a healthy breakfast
and brew tea
steeping extracts all the aroma of my pain

then I sit down and watch your photograph
and gaze into your eyes
praying to spend the rest of my life with you
before I throw away the breakfast
thrashing my heart

A canvas of paint orchids without colors
no odor nor color
a guitar without chords to play uncord passions
a no-sugar, gross candy
and food without salt
trying to put on a no-fit, way too small ring, and ****** bijoux
pitching hallucinations  
disturbing auditory and visual illusions
without you is all about insanity
a lipogram of taboo words
constant and monotonous anguish
just banal mortality...

Ask me not
dare I tell
in a nutshell
I am unwell
farewell!
on us doom
has been spelled
we have been expelled
though having done no wrong
... now YOU are all I long
for. Singing our song...

I remember that summer night
not long ago
when we sat across a carved watermelon
with a candle burning inside
the candlelight  
beaming from the eyes and the mouth
of the frowning watermelon, jack-o-lantern lighted your face
by a peaceful smile
when you looked into my eyes
with love and affection

I am hopelessly muddled
by the unglazed
remembrances of you
that have been scattered all over
in an already mazed
world
and I am on the ground
whirled

Cautious  
You should have been
When uttering words
To someone
Who utterly loves words

you             A
and me       B
      you       A
and me       B
      you       A
and me       B
and us       AB

It seems you had the luxury to          dump             me                                            
You kissed me off and it was a          thumb            up                                                                                                              
                                                                Bump             the                                                                          
                                                                chump!
You                                                         grump!
My heart becomes a                             lump...

poems ought to be short to reflect life
but unlike life smooth and free of strife
poems should be abrupt
to reflect death but unlike death should not interrupt

A fear that I had
to lose you
sometimes washed my soul
when I looked into your loving eyes
this fear can no longer dominate
as I have already lost you
now I fear that you will forget
and regret

Wandering around the hopeful smells of lilies
They are so very you and me
Fresh fragrant pleasant and sweet
But your absence puts me in an awkward position
Slipping in and out of a doze
Through my clouded consciousness
And foggy brain
I can clearly smell the hopeful smells of lilies
They are so very you and me
Fresh fragrant pleasant and sweet
You subtly waft through the room
Ambrosial memories bring you back

I can feel
when you glow
the winds blow
the rivers to flow
but death the biggest foe
too growls
When the casserole cooks on the stove

the woman that you
left behind is heartbroken
in a plaintive cry

my lips have found yours
under the rain
we both have our raincoats
on, the same beige color  
pressing my lips on yours
hold you real tight
when the cat in my arms
hardly breaths stuck between our pleasure-driven bodies
and meows between our trembling souls and racing hearts

rain washes my ***** aura
cleansing my soul burled
reaches Cora
the queen of the underworld

everything that hurts through  
has now mixed into the soil
making the hydrangea flowers blue
but as I walk all the other flowers wither and trees recoil

while all birds fly away and timelessly migrate
my breath is like a sage smudge filling the air
but rather giving a  burdensome weight
                                                         like a nightmare

the bright pink dahlias
that stood for patience withered
eventually

in a shallow taken- for- granted-ness
he held her hand loosely
as if she would always be there
to fill his life

I wear garments
made of different stories
I mix and match
things that have happened
with things that have never happened
I combine what will happen
with  what will not happen
words flow in a totally different medium
in a totally different world

Seeing your photograph
ignites my soul
and that quick spark starts a fire
everything is burning vigorously
and even breathing feeds that wildfire
uncontrollable flames spread all over rapidly
and I die of burning each time

You really hate it when I text "bye"  

because you feel like I am parting away from you

I will never, ever say "bye" again

if  we ever reunite

The day you passed away
was it a Sunday
or a weekday?
I don't actually remember when I swayed
whether it was late at night I strayed
or early in the morning on the shallow bay
I lost my memory on that very day
when they took you away

Away, away, away
Let's go to the farthest distance and play
our favorite songs and dance all-day
hand in hand in our own way  
we can now be together night and day
until death do us part

I have walked
many miles
within myself
towards me
because walking
outwards is
solely impossible

tasting and smelling the sea
on your skin
bring back all the sun felt summers
with a deliciously salty sweetness
and a heartfelt unbearably hot passion

The woman in red is waiting for love
                                        blood red love

Ruby, the woman in a red dress
a dress of passion and blood
                                       blood red love

They would call her mad
                             how sad
Ruby owned her story of love
                                      blood red love
passion, pain, and loneliness

Ruby "the insane"
for those
who do not own their own stories
and don't ever truly love
Nobody ever waits for love for anyone, anymore
                                        blood red love

breathe in
swallow
absorb
all sorts of
poisonous
sorrows
frenzy and
unrest
"you"
is what
I need
crying
does
not help
anymore

I opened the closet
to find your warm hand
in the pocket of the green hoodie that you used to wear
I found two empty mint chocolate thin sleeves
that you kept  
a memory of us on a warm winter day
you were there holding my hand

No one wants to hear a bad story
"sad" is the last in their feeling inventory
your sorrow intervenes with their happy territory
and they are already fed up with all that childhood allegory  

when they look into your eyes
they see death in disguise
no one gives them a prize
for listening to your advice
to be precise
the only thing that actually matters in life is a bit of a spice
otherwise
life is all inadequate, vague, and imprecise

I look worn out
Totally torn apart
I'd love to restart
but you now depart
you say "we cannot go back"
and "we need to get back on track"  
would you like a snack
before you turn your back?

We are left with one body only
Where should I sleep?
On your side or my side of the bed?
My side or your side?
Shall I sleep on my right or left side?
I have always struggled to stay on life’s good side
All this happened was a very bad experience on my side
This is just all very bad timing on our side
You told me that you would always be by my side in low tide
And high tide
Now. What should I grieve for?
Your side of the bad or my side of the bad?
My side or your side?
The good side of the bad
is that although time is not on our side
you will always be by my side

Death is lurking in the shadows
and grief seems to draw me near you through heart throes
Sorrow bounds me with you I suppose
as your absence glares

Every morning I salute the sun
the sun salutes me back reminding me that it is another day for me to suffer
It divulges everything with its bright light
and I try to cover things up
until the end of the day, the sun insists to shine the truth on me  
and I reflect it back through the crooked angles and labyrinths of my mind.
I bend the truth in whatever way I like
and the waves of echoing distortions shade the sun

when our hearts blended
under the newly emerging sun
I felt that life
would forever smile on us
you were the blanket over me in a homely,
all warm and loving cozy colorfulness
with all your attraction
that turned home
into a constant first date  "clicking" excitement

The scar, like that on a 10-year-old’s knee after having fallen in the backyard
is now in my brain after having tripped over life
Compared to that of the child's crusted scab this eschar
is more painful and pus-filled poisoning the whole body.

I cannot see
or change
anything

all my activities,
history,
photos,
and messages
are  gone
and when I die
all my browsing activity
will too be deleted
It feels like
I have borrowed
someone else's life
and living it
for a temporary while
and I just casually browse
don't want  
the rest to be recorded
incognito
just someone

Standing at the far left of the frame of life
I have been dwarfed by the tall branches of the giant bodied willow tree like sorrow
My brain has been ****** by a poisonous arrow
under the shades that I borrow
from tomorrow

She has always been the midseason
not cold, not hot
not dry, not wet
not cloudy, not sunny
not windy, not still
without knowing this
moderate
and mild in nature
Meanwhile, he has been the dead season
without knowing that he is dead

Never forget that once we were lovers
who had hopes and dreams
Always remember that we had a future in the past

seize the day before the day ceases
love me before you leave
and let me kiss you before you die

On his return
The magic potion
that the hero
brought
poisoned all
it was supposed to be
an elixir of love

The sun dashes through the clouds
and shines on me among the crowds
                                            to hold my hand
not knowing that I am a barren wasteland

Inconceivable
Compliments on my presence
Blind my dim essence

The two imaginary friends
that I have both left me
One has become real
And the other one died

You
withering chamomile
fading, bygone, forgotten
feel the loss of
love
mourn the absence of you.

We have been lost in each other a thousand times
when sleeping on painted crimson clouds  

and I know that I will get lost
in sketched black labyrinths that have no exit a million times
I hate being stuck in an incomplete draft that will never be finalized