For a moment I almost thought
my life was normal
the beings in my life caring
my restless soul finally developing
into something more bright and daring
but everything consisting of happiness
always seem to be an illusion
the false light of
a brighter dawn.

So I'll gaze up at the sky
let a tear or so
or a thousand few more
course down my cheeks
then I'll crawl back underneath
my secluded rock
and wait for the universe
to end so that
there will be no one to
judge me so that
I may finally crawl back out.

A world confined to only black and white
is wasted of all the diverse, flowing shades of gray in between---
the areas that aren't so easily or willingly acknowledged;
the variety of tangled truths and in between slips of moments that paint life on an individual level---
all hidden by an outer layer of generic black and white,

whatever the color people decide to assign me---
the way I live my life;
everything that encompasses it---

it will never do me justice in representing
the entity of the person of who I am.

The east branch of the Yangtze keeps flowing,
love seeds once sowed forever keep growing
A face in dreams grew blurred to one's eyes,
staying up late to listen to night birds' cries

Spring not yet green,
strands of gray hair having been seen,
a separation too long for the heart to grieve,

The past appears again and again
on the night of the fabulous Lantern Festival.

I can't really think anymore.
My words won't ever be enough anyways,
so this is really just for my own sanity.
I understand, even when others don't.
I understand, even when it is not always right to think a certain way.
But I just wish I wouldn't have to be so miserable because of the fact that I'm an understanding, compassionate person.
I just wish that people could have the strength to think past their values, their beliefs.
I just wish that everyone could be united through goodness, not by their thoughts on what goodness is.
I just wish that people who talk too much, listen for once.
I just wish that people who are uprightly moral and enduring and strong
have the ability to see those traits in people who aren't the same as them,
in people who will always be different.
I just wish that I could love whoever I want by who they are on the inside and how they treat me,
not by how other people perceive them,
not by what other people think of them,
not for how they see it as for my own good.
I just wish that people could escape from the words that hurt too much,
rather than taking their anger out on the little ones,
who lack everything in the world.
I just wish I could stop crying
because of other people who cry and think their tears are for me and my own good
but who really cry because I can't reach to where they expect me to be,
who really cry because I can't believe in
what they believe to be the truth.
I just wish
I wasn't so sincere, and humble, and cowardly, after all.

my heart aches.
i wish i could be happy and beautiful, too.

I wish to hear once again
the wind's gentleness, rustling
the leaves of the trees,

laughter as the sound
of somebody's delight,

a kiss carried across
the endless deserts, oceans,
valleys, skies,

I wish to see again
a stream of warm sunlight,
dancing from my windowsill

the bright and humble beauty
of a blooming, soft petaled flower,

the person's eyes
of whom I can't recall
but I know was the beautiful sun
in the darkness of my life,

I wish to feel again
someone's small, then strong, then earnest,
then old and faded hand, in my hand,

the tears of gratitude
and acknowledgement,
strolling down our cheeks

the love of strangers
who smiled at me,
and somehow knew
who I was inside,

the simple weight
of a single, slim pen
in my hand,

and all I could see
in the end,
was a young person
who could live freely again,
dancing,
in a shimmering light.

The world will break one day
but I will be gone when that happens
already perished from the exhaustion of holding goodness together
on my shoulders and wrapped around my waist
between each finger and scrawled all over my face
I would have held it all up for the whole world to see
standing there for millennium
through vast lands and seas
standing on mountains of turmoil
and looking through the cracks of bravery
I would cry weep and choke on my tears
but I would still reach for the stars
appreciate the fiery red sun
pick up every diamond resembling a rock and every rock resembling a diamond
and place them in my pockets for the weight of the world to bear
I know from an outer surface
the fight will be extinguished in the end
but the inner part of my soul
wouldn't ever mind having to pretend
that maybe one day goodness will spread out over the landscape
pouring in every object being and soul
and it would be alright that for me by then
time and vulnerability would have taken it's toil.

Illusion drips down from the sky
smeared with the canvas of brightly painted colors
splashed across skyscrapers and the atmosphere,

you can live under pretense
because for some, it's what life is all about
but swing the camera sideways towards your form on the bed
and that is when you can't show your face.

They're surrounding you
placing sparkling shards of sharp diamonds at your feet
you look in all directions
but there's no escape; a wall of society, a wall of people chained together
a wall of your own cowardice trailing from your mind
everywhere you look, you are trapped

you're consuming
delicious airs and mouth watering aspects
of how they think life should be,
and you can feel yourself become heavier each time,
your eyes
are begging for the crystal contacts now in fashion
you're turning the radio up; it's your favorite song

NO stop it--- this isn't you; this is not your kind of happy---

The truth is hard to find
when you're living in a world of where everyone has accepted the lies
they say that you're free
but then you look down and see the chains,

you're as free as you let yourself be
as they, society, (god....) let yourself be
which means
you are not free at all,

and for a while, there was someone special...

---NO---
god, why the hell do you always
need someone to hold you
GROW UP, because there's no one

it's not even exhausting anymore (having to the pretend all the time),
it's integrated into being a part of you
so now you don't know how to let it go anymore
how to find the truth,
yes, the truth will set you free

you can live under pretense
because for some, it's what life is all about
but swing the camera sideways towards your form on the bed
and that is when you can't show your face.

Sunlight streamed in to where I sat alone
in the shed

breathing, or sighing--
clothed in nothing but ashen, bare skin
and regrets,

a soft hat pulled low
to cover leaking fluttering eyes,
opening and closing
shifting to let the world slip in and out,

watching golden dust flurrying
in shadows of every corner,

soft flecks of lost things
existing without a single sound,

a warm wind brushing on green leaves feels like a
sunny tear dried face,
blowing away

with lost or man- made dreams
so many "cares," that never really cared
at all,

wood splinters digging into
palms and fingernails,
quietly asking,

are you here

to reflect before or after
a sad, ******* high

or are you just hiding from the world,
trading a flurry of painful life

for every second

of silent solitude

Everything is so hard,

to know what's right
but to do what's wrong

is the nature of creatures,
low and high

no need
for racial, gender
slurs or stereotypes

you've got your desires
and I've got mine;
amidst our starry eyes,

there are demons inside

no need to shove me,
no need to
make me cry,

your presence
is enough,
to wither me away inside

but sometimes
I feel like
wanting to fight back,

because we all deserve a new
day to live,
and who are
you to take that day,

when you only take,
but

don’t know how to give,

it may not be your fault
that you turned out this way,

but I’ll tell you
it certainly
wasn’t my fault either,

so who are you to say
that
I’ve got problems, flaws,

and you’ll break me
to the bone,
when you too

have always
been alone, dry and empty,

always left on your own,

but somehow it makes
you feel better

to hurl
insults carved in stones,

instead of
reaching out

and finding others
to be with
so you wouldn’t ever

have to be alone.

I think

there's a fault

in my code

Expectation is the root of all heartache



(it certainly is the root of my heartache)

In my household of four
we go about,
unable to hide our disdain and
dis-contentedness, the fresh regrets
in the mourning of lost time,
there is always an apparent thankfulness because
we weren't born with too much misfortunes, although
circumstances could have been better,
But who is to define the real terms of better
that are always shifting form
in the courses of our existences,
like how back then
the terms of better were to me a library (world)
full of endless books & stars,
loving parents and a youthful, grinning brother
to always be oblivious to the world's troubles
a free, open soul to travel the world
and discover new places and people,
an existence far better than
what the human spirit yearns for,
going beyond the wish that a paradise awaits
for all good of mankind,
an existence that rather
brings the concept of a better world
to life, right here and
right now in the present.
But of now, all I can seem to wish for
are fresh lemons
to flush out the built up toxins and frustrations
in everybody,
a father to stop filling himself
with hot air and oblivion to what he has
especially towards the person
who has been by his side throughout
the world's rains of misery and truth,
a mother to stop being so angry
in her majestic world of self pity and
hard, unyielding pride towards her morals,
a brother to stop growing big enough
to keep throwing things around,
and a dumb, mindless girl to stop crying
and figure out how to get her life back together.

As time swirls around,
yet still managing to drain me of my essence,
I now struggle with the strength needed
to read, persevere, understand,
to try, love, and live

Once upon a time,
this person with a book could last for eternity
the characters' light never failed to reach
within to a clumsy, pure spirit
all words were full of beauty, meaning,
and something to shield a hurt, soft, soul
from reality's greater, never ending, flaws

All along, I was completely sure of myself
as a soul of humanity's good,
a warm, comforting light to they
who were lost, with no sense of direction
such as me,

Then, the moments arrive
where a person discovers every flaw of themselves,
where a never ending strength
could morph into relentless anger and remorse,

Where I discover
I am far too much of a
penetrable, ignorant, weak characterized being
lacking a will with enough strength
to rid oneself of even the most smallest fears,

I have grown with time
in some ways others could notice,
although a new, clear view of the world
has its great toll of compromises,

But, deep in the hollow, damp, cave
something has remained the same,

There is a gray, forever shifting
impossible shallowless
that shadows me everywhere
regardless of what I change
despite all the efforts, and how much I try,

Nowadays, I peer with wide eyes into the darkness
and succumb to a lavishly dark thought,
that this must be where
all of humanity conjured up
the elastic, nerve racking, electric,
frightening idea of
a so called fate,

I feel numb,
as if somehow already perceiving
every choice, feeling, action, word, is pointless
as if already knowing
yes, no matter how much you try
some things really are, forever impossible.

I can't discover anything
that will bring a soul
out a creeping, old well full of
densely dark oil,
containing someone with a
slippery grasp on their surroundings

and a very, very
heavy heart

I no longer want to look at words,
they swim in my head
and corner my pitiful, strenuous brain
that tries each day, to make sense
of everything that appears to be senseless,

I'd like to get away
from everything fluorescent and slick, and retreat to the corners
of a wooden, green, world filled with
sunshine, and blossoming,
sharp-witted flowers,

I'd like to take a moment appreciating
autumn leaves swirl in crisp, refreshing air,
rather than having to shiver from the
relentless cold, that each day forces my will
to desire only two things:
my bedroom,
and solitude

I'd like to decide, for once,
what I do,
how I live,
and where I would like to end up.

It's the gray light raindrops
trailing down outside my bathroom window
the airy ruffles and chill and crunchy dry leaves
of a crisp autumn day
a moment peering up
at the twinkling diamond night sky
a proud footing on high fields or the grass growing from between the cracks in a sidewalk
watching the fiery reds and purples
of a rising expectant sun god
and a sinking weary sun warrior
it's the light salty spray
of the heavy dark blue ocean
the sandy footprints
of a lone figure watching the tide along the shoreline drift back towards the horizon
a muffled bright light
behind booming tainted clouds
the small figures
of a boy and a rabbit looking down from the moon
it's nature
small bits of light
flecks of calm and contentedness
breathtaking whispers and delicious airy shivers
a parting in the soul
as a piece of it is left there
to find another's
and be united and free.

Glancing over your shoulder
you watch me go about,
with an upside down frown
and white washed hands
a tear stained inner soul,
although no one may ever know
how I came to be a person
full of desperation and pain,
because I was trying my best
to be a good person,
but what defines a good person,
is it the redness of love,
a greenness of life,
a purple of royalty,
a blackness of the night,
and I was trying to be
happy and free, but upon
helping others, the universal
truth was lost among me,
for I can't seem to remember
what to do anymore,
or how to be a good person,
for my heart is content in being
an upside down frown but
my soul will never soar,
it seems in this lifetime,
in this existence,
I may not be a good person.

There's something about
the structure of your face
the steady build in your shoulders
your gait of ignorance and grace
the strong calves
muscular torso and chest
bright full teethed smile
radiant and fresh

Something different in
your eyes
cheekbones
collarbones
nape of your neck
small of your back
straight curved long spine
curly straight
short long
chestnut
golden
frosty white
hair

So beautiful that
one must live with care
or else otherwise fall head over heels
for the signals of despair
dressed up to be handsome
darling and for the moment fair.

Sorry if my words aren't pretty enough
for you to read,

but I'd like to be myself for once.

There was never any need
to please others,

for no matter how much
you seem to owe them,

in the end, your life
should belong to you.

There never was any reason
to judge or scorn,

for everyone is scarred
insecure and flawed,

the only perfections that exist
are the imperfect ones.

Time is caught up in moments,
the anxiety and restlessness
found in dancing shadows,

questioning and mindless tests
adolescents live by,

content and loving
mothers, fathers, lovers,

weary and patient,
time carriers.

All the valiant efforts
step by step forward
reaching out to hold on,
all seem to be for nothing,
when they open their
ignorant eyes and mouths.

They say they know
they've been there before,
can see straight through
the lies, twisted feelings,
phases and occurrences

but really, who the hell
are they to say they know
the way through this eternal
hell, these wasted moments
and time spent fighting over
trivial petty materialistic
reputations and class ranking
crap

every word said must be
watched and its meaning
taken acidly interpreted,
with loathsome spiting
phrases from the depths of
the so called fiery hell,

but really, how could
they say they know the
way through this eternal
hell, when they are in
fact the ones making it up?

I said I was okay
and you believed me???
Let me tell you what is wrong with me
I'm tired
That's all...
I'm tired of getting hurt
I'm tired of getting let down
I'm tired of lies
I'm tired of caring too little, and not caring at all
I'm tired of not eating
I'm tired of holding it in
I'm tired of feeling, broken, damaged, selfless, worthless, never-good-enough pain
I'm tired of being judged for everything I do
I'm tired of all my flaws, and insecurities
I'm tired of trying
I'm tired of getting my hopes up
I'm tired of feeling like ****
I'm tired of being me

In a world of where
people rush to live and die,
sunshine turns to radiation
and wind turns to monsoons,
flowers wither and fade
trees are struck by lightning,
people who walk dream
of sitting down and people
who are immobilized dream
of walking forever,
beings that shine and sparkle
in the depths of darkness and decay,
beings that illuminate a false light
in the dawn of a new day,
I wish I could turn back time
and start everything anew,
because I miss what I had once
when I couldn't see the awful truth,
I wish I could smile freely again
not have to shelter myself from danger,
I wish I could be bright bold and happy
not anxious and tired in despair,
but most of all I wish
of that time where I dreamed,
sunflower kingdoms and golden sidewalks
cluttered cozy homes and warmth of fire
a suitcase, long coat, gloves, scarves, hat,
and a radiant full teethed smile
as I waved and held fast to
the world of dreams exploring and travel,

Now, I can barely
make it out of my bedroom.

If you look over your shoulder,
you can catch the deep sunset's orange
and violet rays in the crisp, autumn leaves
as they prepare to gracefully fall from heaven's trees
and on to people's humble feet.

If you trace your hands over the
lovely spines
of worn, bent paperback books
you might hear the faint murmurs of
tiny excited character kinsmen,
the heroes and heroines of lost worlds, conquered
universes, and empty bleak, realities.

If you steal a quiet glance at the
person sitting at the table across from yours,
leaning on an arm, hair ruffled
in a dodgers hat, a sweater radiating warmth
and loneliness,
cradling a steaming mug of black coffee,
you'd realize that they are forever willingly
waiting for someone precious to appear
in their lives.

If you somehow find a clean, unpolished mirror
in a case carrying abundant duplicates
of filtered cameras, if you can find the courage
to bring the light up to your face, and if you trace
the lines, freckles, and pinches of red you discover
scattered throughout,
you would know that you are utterly beautiful.

If you hesitate before taking a single step
in your daily routine, if you stop and open
your mind before the flow of words can
overwhelm the space before you, if you can sing
to yourself rather than console a lost soul's cries,
if you can paint specks of color on your fingertips
and draw a smiling, gray sky,

you would find yourself
cradling the midnight blue, obnoxious,
but so sweetening and simple world,
as if it were a lost child who formed fists
to hide its crystal tears...

as if it built a well defined, unyielding
shield, to suffer the deep marks
left behind by the blows
of an insurmountable sadness.

A man once said,
there is always
one promise that remains

that
no matter the price,
a promise to survive
to persevere,
and thrive
as we've always done....

although that man
is now gone from
the universe,

his words
I have burned
into
the back of my mind.

For some people,
life is a
game called
    Let's see
         how much
               you can
                    lie to yourself

When I was
a young boy (girl)
my father took me into the city
to see a marching band
He said son (daughter)
when you grow up
will you be the savior of the beaten
the broken and the ******

dear father I never had
how could I be the savior
of the beaten
the broken and the ******
when I couldn't even be
the savior of myself.

Crystalline tears
rivers of ink
flow from one's eyes
catch the tear drops
keep'em in your pocket
gather the ink and
write for the world  
be your own witness
as you pick yourself up
keep on going
and move on
crowded hallways
jammed streets
blares shouts sneers
shoves being tread on
shadows passing by
pushed off to the side
hounded and lashed out at
but at the end of the day
be your own witness as
you pick yourself up
and keep on going
and move on
rejection and outcast
numb in the dark
dull eyes staring through
voices droning on
sliding right through you
stuck in the same old
boundaries rules and appearances
nothing acknowledging your
existence
but be your own witness
as you hold your head up
square your shoulders
take a step forward, 1, 2, 3,
keep on going
and move on.

I yearn for something
bright, and warm,
and soft,
and glowing, and gentle,
and kind,
like a blanket of flowing sunshine
engulfing me,
creating a cocoon of kindness
to shelter me from
the outside world, and
everything in between,
I want to feel safe, and loved,
freed from inner demons
and jabbing words,
and tainted stares,
taken away and hidden
from poison,
my skin and eyes glowing,
my mind a vast, welcoming
pale blue sky
my lips a creamy peach,
tasting sweet honeysuckle drops
on my tongue,
I want to breathe easily
air as fresh, and clean,
and pure with the essence
of innocence, and
hushed, content breaths
of peace,
I want to curl up
into a ball, and
be my own savior,
wipe my own tears, and
preserve my own laughs
and soft, genuine words,
I want to be left alone,
alone from guilt, and fear,
and the red threads
of fate, tying me to
others, who make me regret
my existence, and every breath
I inhale,
and every broken step I take,
I just want to be
free and forgotten from it all,
to just be safe and sound
in my cozy little, but wide
room of warmth,
and softness, and solitude,
I will forever dance
like a beam of sunlight,
twirling softly in a palm,
always out of reach,
like a forgotten dream.

I am lost
within the trembling threshold
of my life.

Days merging together
voices dragging, dripping
with illusion

I sit there
and listen,

I walk
to and fro,

I eat
and eat and
eat
only to throw it all back up.

I come back to
my bittersweet, lovely
poetry

I read
and read
liking
collecting every word
every tear shaped phrase and longing sigh,

There is
a mass of monsters
their collective voices
drilling
into my head,
tearing at
my chest

Shut up
please,
take back
the excuses

I'm just
trying
to be a good person,

but you all
are making it
so difficult.

Don't
give me what I don't want,
I don't care--
about anything.

Oh my god

I never
asked,
for any of this.

But
this is
what I was given

although
I hate it so much,
there's nothing I can do.

When the sun’s rays
illuminate the awakening, vast sky,
soak through fresh, gathering clouds
and tuck the stars and moon under
a blanket of warmth,
someone will find us,
seated up there on the white bleachers
in the stadium overlooking the track,
breathing in crisp, new air
with squinted eyes soaking in
the gold outlining the horizon,
enjoying a time of solitary togetherness
in an eventful but dazed world
where the color of its inhabitants
are to us, black and white,
but still, we ride on hope and two children's
combined abilities to dream,
and our feet planted firmly, but leaning forward
in an infinite space of chances,
enveloped in quiet moments of each other,
of where we’ve been,
who we are,
and where we’re going.

People die
sometimes because of the weather,
but mostly because of stupidity.

There once was a person
who thought it'd hate the world
full of grievances mishaps and cruelty
it shone a false light on the rising day
mouths of ignorant deities
moving twisted in motion
lies schemes and withered lives
plotting and living with or without say
bustling clawing towards
the false light of a better day

but as the being grew
and came to experience traumas
dealt with pain stress anxiety remorse
towards the people of the world
closest and most vulnerable to
darkness and disarray
it couldn't help but feel a need
to reach out it's hand for
the single ray of warmth and gratitude
reflecting off of certain beings
happening to make up the cruelty
of the world

the being felt a need to
speak out and stand
admidst the ever flawed universe
it so very much desires with a fiery pain
to be different in such a way that
it can't be called an inhabitant
of such misery and pain
of which the world displays
upon itself

and that mere thought
that feeling of defiance
happened to be sparked by
the interactions with other beings
who happened to share the same thought

so as long as you can
reach out for those among the stars
who wish to be different in hopes of
changing the traits of the world
you are not alone and
no longer is all of the world
a dark and twisted place to reside in.

There are instances in life where you feel so down, you are so low below the ground that
you can’t bring yourself back up.
People have a problem with coming back down, your problem is being high enough to think,
to live.
You can’t really say, that everything will improve over time.
You feel exhausted and empty, dreary and hollow, like an old old well drum that had been played for centuries, with no real passion or spirit.
You long for someone to notice you,
but that’s just a part of human nature; it’s not what you really want.
You want to smile,
and feel the sun's rays lighting up your face.
You want to dance,
in the blue rain and the silver moonlight.
You want to say you're different,
that for you, no one ever has to change.
You want to say that once you felt so down, you were so low below the
ground that you thought you couldn't
bring yourself back up.

But you did.

Whoever opens their mouths
and says,
you can be anything
you want to be because
you'll always be different and unique...
are lying to themselves
and to you,
because they're just
talking about all they've ever known
which probably
has never been much.
Cause I know
I will probably end up
being an adult,
who never really knew
how to grow up
and identify myself
just like that.
Cause they put limits to
what you can do,
who can you be,
how you can live,
and then expect you to
make yourself be unique and different
living under the same roof as
the world?

As the time caught up,
she lifted her head to the ticking
of the clock hands,

They had never been still,
from the day of fresh born life
through days of silky pink smiles,
flowing blue tears, flashing white pain,
pooling red love,

No second had ever paused
as she was once filled with hopeless anxiety,
innocent uncertainty, scars of remorse,
shivery longing,

There were moments when she saw the wonders,
instances where she was blind with contempt,
most of the time, she went with the flow
so at the end, she felt saddened and hollow
because it had never been about true happiness,

She now wishes for a second chance
but her time is up,
she lifts her head to the ticking
of the clock hands,
and tries not to think too much.

I stand on trial
in a spherical, tightly wired world
enclosed in a wooden, sun bleached box
formed from unintentional ignorance
and mishaps that stem from the inability to change,
details of my charge:
attempting to establish my personal identity
in which I am colorful and sprout wings to take flight
and my footsteps trace to the ends of the earth and back
during the day I soak up people's laughter and smiles like a sunflower bathing in sunlight
and throughout the night I sleep comfortably in a bed of warm solitude underneath the stars
I'm perhaps guilty of knocking on my senses
to think outside the box
and am mischievous enough to peer into other's
enclosed spaces, coaxing out the best in them
like a magician wielding shimmering flowers
out of his sleeve
I am charged for distinguishing distortions
and painful black and white misconceptions from reality
and its diverse colorful rays of magnitude and life
I believe something along the lines that
not everything is what it seems to be,
but instead we're all flowers
who need to be nourished and watered each day
as weird as it sounds,
I'd like for my tears to mean something
during the trial, which I hope will pass quickly enough
for the wind to ****** and carry away

If I stood very still; lightly on the soles
of my feet
head tipped back, eyes drinking in the stars
cheekbones swimming
in splashes of silver moonlight
the milky way would continue to sway,
and the universe might swirl
to swallow me whole.

Even after perishing,
I would strain to let every fragment of light know
that I have already experienced
that intense feeling of overwhelming loss,
the sense of being swallowed whole by a greater entity

that I have already experienced those phenomenons
in the daily life of a small, insignificant
human being
one of 7.7 billion on this earth

being swallowed by the fast paced conventions
of society,
being sunken further in the soles of my shoes
by the heavy weight of expectations
and burdens implemented by others' judgement,

being cast to the shadows
as an outcast
from the group of uniform peers, moving in unison
marching to a rhythm found in their interior systems,
one that I lack

being utterly alone and drained of light,
laying like a corpse on my suffocating bed in the stillness
of the dark night,

so, there you go.
After all of that mess that I am supposed to call my life,
you surely can't be surprised
by my indifference to being swallowed by the universe
as melting stars run down my cheeks
like the tears of my soul,
as it begins to sob
throughout the night.

Oh you,
why do you no longer try?
where has the sense of life slipped away to,
the sudden fleeting but warm and pleasant
moments that ignite a tender sparkle in your eyes,
where is the clear, ringing laugh resounding from
your heart, where went the desire to raise the corner
of your soft, cherry lips in a half- suppressed, bemused smile
why no longer do your hands dance upon the paper,
pressing the dark lead onto the open space consuming
your delicacies of ideas and marks of thriving color,
why ever neglect to gaze towards the fresh fields
and drink in the golden sunset gracefully falling
into your tenderly cupped hands, and let the warm,
sweet breeze kiss your soft, rosy face, let the magical
glowing lantern lights of fireflies light your way home,
let me hear you speak again, your soft, strong, poetic voice
your penetrating, rough and smooth deep words
cradling new inspirations in my mind,
let me see you turn your face to the horizon once again
with a look of enlightened awe and love,
show me again that the world is something to fight for,
that life is worth living and we may die
but we never lose the best parts of ourselves, the ones
we grow into, the ones where we learn how to
value and forgive, love and remember,

Please,
**show me again

that life is worth living.

why do I keep coming back here
it's like I miss you
and I want you to miss me,
it's like I crave for your attention
the way you speak about gazing at the stars
or languishing in the airy sea breeze
it's like I wish you would also feel...
that very same way about me,
why is it that when I think of you
I feel as fluttery as white air
like you let loose a thousand butterflies
right into my open stomach
as a joke... without any real care,
why do I want to see you
and long to be held in your arms
even when somewhere in the back of my mind
I know you are just playing along to my obsession
over you and your perfect imperfections,
someone who will listen throughout the depth of night's darkness
to hear your lonely smiling cries,
why do I keep coming back here
it's like I miss you...
and I want you to miss me.

And all I had ever wanted
was for the world to look up one day
and see my constellation of stars
scattered throughout the Milky way,
and the vast, starry night sky.