people lose things,
chances,
dreams,
love,
relationships,
each other,  
                                                        ­             and hope,
but what I lose most the time is myself,
not my outside-self, but my inside-self,
and people take intervals or forever
to get back what they lose,
and I wonder, whenever I'll take interval or forever,
to get back myself.

I wanna wrap her words in suave tissue,
tied with tender tape,
then put it in the darkest place,
reach for it every time I need her.





and god, only if happiness can be wrapped in a box,
so I'd wrap mine for her,
with a bouquet full of shiny sunflowers!

will we remember each other in the future, love?
will we keep in contact, or the days will separate us?
will we cross each other minds as we used to?
will we cross paths one day?


                                                              ­                                                will we meet again?

ocean and waves,
sunflower fields and butterflies,
sky and all the stars,
both the sun and moon,
reflect you perfectly, darling.

how quiet the life is..
how noisy it sounds in my head.

let your thoughts blast the world,
let your words burn the cold.

you're the illuminating moon,
you're the night starlit sky,
you're my dizzy universe.

she was charming like a couple of adorable synonyms in a sentence,
yet so obscure like a quiet full-stop at the end of paragraph.

for every gloomy night and bright morning,
for every deep breath and slight smile,
for every clock tick and eyes flicker,





                                                   ­                                                                 ­                         I love you.