i just really hate the term puppy love.
makes me sound like i'm way over my head
simply caught up with the clouds high above
and not gonna stop myself till i'm dead

rather, it's a cherry blossom romance
beautiful, brilliant and illuminating
sweet and pleasant, putting me into trances
a fire in me so strongly burning.

i hate the word crush with burning passion
makes this love feel fragile and soft-boiled
i know myself well, there's no confusion
at that point in time, my heart's fully-booked

let's call it a sakura rendezvous:
where raw, feral love comes into full bloom.
burning bright, though eventually withering:
'twas an embodiment of maturity.

Times are hard when things have got no meaning
it is pointless to keep running away from the one thing
for which you are living;
it comes back, ever so haunting.

I've found a key on the floor
quite a strange find in a strange place
when I find someone to adore
maybe I too, will find solace

Maybe you and I will not believe in the things we find behind the door
a new dream? Or ancient lore?
maybe it would be quite a bore
Maybe it will touch me to my core

So what's the matter with you?
take the first step outwards
hold fast to my hands
and together we'll walk this through.

Sing me something new.
don't get me wrong,
for your words are like dew,
precious and beautiful.

Stand by me,*
and I'll show you all the things we could be.

today i tried to catch a feather that was drifting in the wind
so fine, so light, so delicate and grey as hell.
i clawed at it in a bid to catch the poor thing
yet the more i tried, the further away it flew.
i questioned myself over why i wanted to catch it in my hand,
and i realised i desperately needed something tangible to hold on to.
something; anything.
anything that i could pin all my hopes and dreams on.
i was too forceful in keeping you close to me,
to let you be the pivot of my existence.
yet the feather finally taught me today,
that i should let you go, and let you drift with the wind
and let it bring you where you will eventually stay.
maybe you will find a heart that will be your home one day.
until judgement day: drift, soar, fly!

Acid, that's what you are;
you get me up so high
just to drop me far below.
maybe I just wanna fly?

you cause hallucinations,
not my imagination.
I, for one, thought that your love
was not an addiction.
and not a hallucination.

this addiction I wished
I never had anymore!
but the shadow of the day
blinds out all the sun's rays
why is I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel?

silly me, I always knew there was the light but I just never wanted to believe in it; because who cares? The high is worth the pain, right?

the waves that carry you
swelling like a bruise
with every drawn breath
bringing you to your death
waves of turmoil, anguish
with sole will to punish.
trapped; sinking into an abyss
darkness, like a soft kiss.
watching the world cave in
as you think about what could've been
how do you let go of the things
that are ever so haunting?
cast them away upon the waves,
the very ones forming your grave.

red: the colour of luscious lips
oh, the way it branded my skin
the touch of your fingertips
love letters in indelible ink

red, the colour of your cheeks
as I caressed your face gently
my, I wished I could take a lick!
of course, only with my pinky

blue, the colour of your bright eyes
a lovely sparkle of genius
like the soft glow of the sunrise
please, arise these tears not from fears.

blue, the colour of your summer gown
when you first said I was a dear
then you proceeded with a frown
tucking your heart next to mine, here.

brown, the colour of your long hair
as it fell in waves from your head
you clung like I was a stuffed bear
like a toy you would bring to bed

brown, the colour of our photos
the faded sense of nostalgia
has kept me on my tippy toes
that I'll see you again, right here

Summer rain:
the epitome of endless ironies,
like joyful pain,
and a bloodhound befriending a fox.

yet precisely through ironies we realise
how sharply contrasting these emotions are.
like how the eyes see nothing but lies,
and how things are only beautiful from afar.

perhaps, only through these ironic moments can we truly feel
the primal nature of emotions;
that lead us to **** ourselves
on the inside without hesitation.

y'know, just to make someone else happy.

a protective mechanism;
unsightly, yet all you need
to keep out deadly passions
some may call is masochism
yet it is the fear that i'll bleed
from digging at the lesions
of a love long lost
and then i met you

as if you were a blanket
shielding me from the hurt
this world can cause
only your warm touch blank it:
all the pain that has been inflicted
oh, how i long to be yours.

you are refreshing water to a parched throat;
providing a stinging remedy that works in a painfully slow way.
strangely, the ache is what keeps me going.....
the more it hurts, the more pronounced the longing.

maybe you haven't realised,
but you're the water to a desert:
so precious, so wonderful and treasured
running down my throat, so pleasured.

but maybe you're a mirage in a parched desert of all life devoid:
an illusion, so hopefully, deadly beautiful
for believing this is true: oh, what a fool!
oh woe; avoid, I say, avoid!

the imperative words fall on deaf ears,
as I plunge headlong and deep
into a never-ending abyss of quicksand
into the obliteration of infatuation!

an oncoming twister.
disaster?
you know, that thing people warned you about.
a flash of lightning and a thunderbolt.
strong gales that blow you away.

the weather report has already warned you to escape while you still could.
but even if you should, you didn't leave.
then, you get caught up in the storm.
the strong passion that swept you off your feet;
the violent explosion of fiery and icy emotions meeting.

then suddenly,
the tornado that was your love affair passes.
disappears; like nothing ever disturbed the peace.
you are scared: you have been caught up in the twister all your life.
the sudden calm seems ominous -- is this an oracle given by the heavens?
suddenly you wished you were caught up in a disaster of another kind.

A loud booming –
the sound of everything I fear coming true;
of everything I treasure falling apart at the seams,
like the thin thread connecting us snapping into two.

The pitter-pattering –
having everything coming together and then falling apart;
breaking away seems so easy, natural even;
as with all the things that could have been.

The bone-chilling cold –
a feeling that would stop anyone dead in their tracks;
same as your words: sending chills down my spine

Life and sunshine –
absent from your distant gaze past me;
I don't remember the last time your presence enveloped me in warmth

Strangely, all I think about on rainy days is you. You, you, you and just you. Maybe between me and you, the roles have been swapped: you are now cold and unfeeling, and I warm and full of emotion. But foreign isn't always harmful, and safe may not be safe after all. So really, thank you.

the story started with hairline cracks.
cracks that were so fine, thin and insignificant.
let us not sidetrack,
and go straight to how it all happened.

somehow the pressure got to us all
widening the tiny fissures in the wall
slowly the walls started crumbling
and the decorations started tumbling.

the pieces of the walls started to fall off
and each piece that almost hits me
i dodge, dust myself off and cough
it never did hit me that this really could be.

eventually i became enlightened
and my perspective was brightened
suddenly the rug fell through the floor
and i am out the door

plunged into darkness, i ask
since when had the fault lines widened to swallow me up?
into an endless abyss of darkness
unlike that of dusk

I thought of my desolate air fresheners, of all shapes, sizes and scents.

pick the little one shaped and scented like a rose.
the sweet, cloying smell that irks your sensitive nose.
nobody knows how it happened, but
your breakfast goes (out).

pick the green tree, the one that smells like pine.
maybe you should wash it down with some wine.
the sharp scent reminds you of grandma's house, and suddenly you taste brine on your face.

maybe you should take the one shaped like a lemon, with a whiff of zing.
suddenly I remember how you didn't even blink
with your acidic words when you said you were leaving.

nothing seems to be able to mask the sad, musty smell of loneliness;
but maybe with a gentle caress.....?

cry yourself out,

let the tremors in your heaving shoulders shake away what was once so loud.
a love once clear as day, and without a doubt. I'll learn to love myself.

let your tears wash away all the anguish of yesterday; it will all be okay. I'll learn to be strong.

let the dust settle into place, let reality sink in — to the left side of my bed where you used to lie next to me. I'll learn to sleep alone.

let your scent, the smell of home and warmth go, away with the summer wind. I'll learn to sleep in a scentless room.

let your familiar warmth fall away, slowly — I'll learn to survive on my own heat.

all the things I'll have to learn to do without you; I think I'll be able to do it.
I'll rely on the faith that you always had in me and learn to be better...myself.

Please always remember
bring a parka as it gets colder
tell me you realise
the closer you get to the skies
everything slips from your grip
like raindrops going drip, drip, drip
when you reach the summit
don’t be afraid, ******
you know that the peak is icy
but really, let your eyes see
what you would never know
underground, deep down below
a blizzard howls and roars
promise me
that when it gets chilly
that you will stay by the fireplace
warming up the place with your timeless grace

two cans, held together with strings
a common thread in ways we think
like telepathy
but better

the way our eyes would meet
and suddenly your mind i read
how your words echoed itself on the insides of my mind
even as we sat together, silent

you lay your hands on me, gently
getting to know me
and in doing so, entangling
the red thread between us, binding

the connection, complicated
strings ******* against each other
words once warm, now lost in translation
muffled, and audible no longer

i see you, no distance between us
yet your words...unintelligible
"do i know you?"
perhaps...only in the past

all these words I want to place lightly on your skin
like cold raindrops skimming your chin
a warm embrace,
a beautiful face.

i guess i got too caught in my mind,
realisation came too late
a broken connection
was all i find

two cans, each other repelling
in many ways saddening.
a mystery
left open-ended forever.

they say after one has been branded with the mark of passion, the indelible mark remains seared into our skin, our hearts, and into our very bones.
the indescribable warmth that is like a poppy flower, brings about hunger; hunger for warmth that never ceases.

from the time you have first been marked by the fiery tongue of passion, you seek in a vast, endless sea. for the one flicker of the flame that you have felt before: the familiar burn of the glowing ember against your temples. you seek, you seek and you seek, but it is always hiding away, waiting for the true bearer of light to show himself.
the depravity of the wicked flame grows, and it pushes you to ***** for heat, any source of heat that can be found.

you are desperate: you don't let the pain of getting your hands too close to the glowing flame muddle your judgement, all you care about is grabbing the fire and staying warm. touching the flame as it viciously grazes your fingers, singeing every last particle left on your fingers. but you aren't bothered; you can't be bothered. what matters is the sacred fire — that is all that matters.

scribbling on a piece of parchment
tying it with a red satin ribbon
i hope the waves’ movements
bring you towards a safer shore

where foreign and familiar collide
like waves bashing against rocks
warm sand with your feet inside
salt spray onto those beautiful locks

the world at your feet
you unfurl the message in the bottle to read:

Dear someone out there,

I hope you find the person who tucks you in at night
one who never leaves you out of his loving sight
the one with the gentle vocality
even when he is frail and elderly

one who will be the one to wash away 
all the lingering pain of yesterday
the one with the anchoring presence
that over the years never lessens

one who lends you a listening ear
about everything you hold dear
the one that loves you for all the days you are alive
and kisses your every wrinkle, bulge and crease

one who brings you hours and hours of joy
as if you were a little girl and he a little boy
the one with the immortally kind spirit
providing you with an immense heat 

one who knows the names your toes go by
joe, bonnie, ian, andrea, kai
the one that will make silly stories about kyle the toe who went to town
just to turn that frown upside down

i hope from the bottom of my jet black and neon soul
that you will, one day with the love of your life grow old
until there is nothing but the ashes of the hot, burning coal.