She is two worlds in one.
She craves the unknown; the wild.
She loves the sense of familiarity and
of knowing where she's going.
She is all things this world has put her through,
yet she still smiles as if pain has never pierced
through her
heart.

She was promised a lot of things too.
A love that will last forever- by a lover who was gone
the moment she accidentally mentioned LOVE.
A friendship worth a thousand ships but sailed away as
the tides got higher and harder to bare.
She is made of those broken promises; of those bittersweet heartaches.

Come 2017,
She is still looking for a place in this world, but then again, who isn't?
She's had her heart broken, scars now beginning to fade.
She's different now, you see.
She has this air of confidence; of quiet self-love.
She now knows her worth, and if men can't accept her mind which is as wide and ever growing as her reason, then she will walk away
and wait for someone who will.
She is happy; she is herself.
She is a woman of now. A woman fighting for a place in this society. A woman of grace, a woman of total serendipity.
She is you. She is I.

I've been a lot of things in this world;
Taken for granted, the one that got away,
the achiever daughter, the sympathetic friend.

I've been complimented a dozen times, and probably have been criticized double.

I've felt emotions, both raw and silly.
I've felt the sadness of failure and the joys of success.
Cried tears for things sometimes deep, other times petty.
I've felt love, both real and conditional.
I've been hurt, accidentally and otherwise.

But I'm still a lot of things in this world.
You are too.
Not one thing can stop you;
from being the best version of you, for you.

let me write with ink
staining the pages as I go,
let it resonate across continents,
religions and races,
sparing the blood of innocents

let me plead with ink,
tears flowing as crimson now does on streets
let me show you humanity,
what words I can write, I think of you as I do

for we are in uncertain times indeed,
tatters of humanity, disguised in infants' cries
lost in the hope that tomorrow, the strange sounds will stop
to bring back the sun and watch it shine,
to live in memories of what was once divine

let me give you my love, with ink
gentle hands caressing my pen
oh this world could use a poet;
in fact, it can do with many more-
instead of unsteady hands pulling the trigger
as they go.

Look at her, still braving the tides
through hell and high water,
you won't hear her sighs
And though she is lonely,
she smiles as though the happiest,
of maidens and friends,
a façade; an ode to all the compliments

Days and nights, she hopes and longs
for a love deep enough to wander and hold
She tries, and tries, to see light in every encounter
How melancholic, she laughs without laughter

She makes it seem as though she is strong
but inside, she knows, it's a deep fall
To trust-  shatter, her heart amends
How lonely it is to long for something that bends

Look at her braving the tides,
her eyes that shine like the moonlight divine
A constellation of stars hidden in her mind
And though she seems to be standing still
Her heart, oh her heart, is breaking till.

a thrill, always will be
how this happened, still enchanting to me
i'm at ease, i am vulnerable-
i am at home.
you're both comfort and adventure,
like Bogota to Rome.

I can't tell you how much you occupy my thoughts
so I'll put everything in writing.
you're the yin to my yang,
a lot of people won't get this, but darling you're my
wai ying.

so as I'm writing, trying to add more
please know that my heart is full.
I've nothing more to ask for, except for maybe getting
another lifetime with you.
you're a thrill, always will be
you have the whole of me,
my babu.