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I will hold you
Like the sun
Holds the moon
And the ocean
Holds the sky.
What would life be like without poems is kind of like saying what would life be like without the sun. We'd most likely die and seize to exist. Poems are an attribute in making us human. Shakespeare's sonnets spoke of true loves first kiss, and of a dying loves last. How could man express his thoughts without writing a giant descriptive book on his life? What would songs be called before they were sung? Poems are rebellious. They defy all rules of proper writing, and grammar. They are not perfect, but still beautiful. Just like us.
I am addicted to sadness.  I live and breathe in the souls of heartache of lovers no longer in love. I can taste the tears of sorrow from a broken heart of a man who saw his world crumble before his eyes, and hear the weeping wails of a mourning woman. My only escape from this misery is to find a soul just as broken as mine, and somehow find love through our unhappiness.
Sometimes I wonder

Why hopes dashed
Why dreams died
Why we cried ourselves to sleep at night

Then I ask my self

*"Why did you expect too much?"
I want to be a place you call 'home'

Do you know what's the meaning of 'home' itself?
Home is a place you always keep coming back, no matter how far you could go
Home is a place you always gonna miss, no matter how messy it could get
with its imperfections
with its messiness

And I don't want to be a five-starred hotel-or a mall, for you
with its perfections
with its glamorous
with its beauty
But you can always leave them, anytime you want
Because it's just a place you passed by,
just a place you enjoy, you look at,
for short periods of time,
then you leave it behind

I want to be a home, for you
with my own imperfections,
with my own messiness,
Because I want you to keep coming back to me, no matter how far you could go
And you'll always gonna miss me,
because I'm your home.
Thanks for being one of my inspirations, Fadli Arfi.
missing you comes in a hurricane
all-powerful and all at once
memories beating me down as i collapse, head tucked between my knees
and the silence is filled with dread rather than peace
because the eye of the cyclone only reminds me of the look in yours when you turned and slammed the door on your way out

missing you comes in thunderstorms
lightning flashes of anger
why was it my fault when you were the one who left me to drown, you knew that i hated crying for help but did you know i screamed for you that day, i begged you to come back, i begged you to stay, is that why you cannot stand to look at me
well *******
how dare you throw me a lifeline when you were just waiting to let go of the other end

missing you comes in tidal waves
ebbing and flowing less frequently
but the pain is still there, not when the sadness hits but when it leaves
where are you going, please come back
for the salt burns my skin and water chokes my lungs
but they are only things keeping me from drying up on this desert shore

missing you comes in an afternoon shower
very rarely and unfamiliar when it arrives
all i remember are colors
jagged red lines, a black soul, and slate-blue eyes that looked like the lovechild of burnt charcoal and ocean floor
i hope it means your ashes will be buried somewhere you can't poison anyone else

missing you comes in the leaky garden hose
but we have automatic sprinklers now and i don't need to water the grass anymore
Cliche about love.
Cliche about depression.
Cliche about death.

Semi-clever play on words.
Stolen line, weak metaphor.

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Mediocrity complete.
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