hand me your thoughts
so that if i may
draw on them with the scribbles of lights
blindingly bright yet addictives
wish nothing
but scrape your darkness

hand me your breaths
the sweet breaths of the north wind
even if yours as cold as winter
I'd catch them as they fall
between the curse you would say
melting mine with yours

hand me your hands
for me to take them
palm up as a sign
that we're just imperfectly perfect
like piece of puzzle
as i held yours
effortlessly and perfectlty

it cooks things
without having to do anything
or even trying
just let the fragments fling
while you hold them in sling

if I could renovate my life
as you'd renovates your place
if I could get rid those lousy-things
as you'd throw away your good-for-nothing things
if I could fix my life
like fixing broken parts in your room
if I could do it over
like painting over the walls
if this life is an interior designs
that possess before and after
if my life that worn-out at "before"
could turn into the glamorous "after"
can I renovate it?

living in two different tales
telling two different lies
he asked
who am I?
I can't answer
there's no lies to begin with
it's just me
with my various trait

they asked
why am I hurting
I said
is it so wrong for feeling this much hurt just because of that?
do I need more dramatic reasons?
do I need more spesific reasons?
why?