I count the stars with your name in breath,
Each night a prayer, a soft silhouette—
You're not mine—no ties, no claim—
Yet my soul still trembles at your name.

You're a dream that walks in daylight’s hue,
A shadow cast in skies of blue…
Four long years, a cruel decree,
Between your heartbeat and my plea.

I ache to touch, to hold, to see,
The version of you that's meant for me.
To trace your smile, your silent grace,
And find my haven in your embrace.

I know the clock won’t cheat for love
No sudden sign will fall from above.
Still, every second stretches thin,
With you so far, yet deep within.

You don’t yet see the tears I hide,
Or how you live in thoughts I bide—
But still I’m entranced, unaware—
But still I wait, and still I care.

So I will wait through silent years,
Through sleepless nights and hidden tears.
My heart will hold what time ignores,
Until love leads you to my door.

''I might take the shoes off,
Still, I remember all our walks.
I might have a new pen,
Yet I remember every little plan.

I might be tough,
Still, every time I look up to the sky, I see your laugh.

I lied to people about my favourite flower,
Because I always recall the day you gave me a wildflower.

The sun is shining while I'm standing on the ice

Why isn't it melting?
**** it, I always hated playing dice.

Repeating over and over, the same cycle every day
Just makes it too hard to stay.

I'm just going to lay...
But every time I see the moon, it makes me want to see you soon.

All I want to do is catch a train
And hope for the evening to rain.

Do you understand me?
I mean, how can I be understood
When I explain with running words hidden under a hood?

How will you get me,
When all my thoughts are running barefoot through the woods?

Where is my blanket? Where is my pillow?
Are my jeans too tight?

Maybe I need to find the light,
Because I don't want to fight anymore
So I’ll just open my door.

I can’t find my blanket or my pillow.
There’s no tree to offer me some shade.

Maybe... I'm the willow.''

“What is not to be had in haste, may yet echo on the grieving wind.”
— Su ****

The pallor of the desolate plain —
a wound torn by void.
Those great swathes of barren earth,
laid bare —
are my chest,
yellowed and cracked with thirst.

She holds her head high,
nonchalant —
dragging behind her a hem
as lucid and dark as eyes
that have seen through dreams.

The snowy lace, pure as accumulated frost,
stirs up dust —
like the tender light at the horizon’s edge,
trembling into dawn.

I thought it was the sweet, silken whisper
of a love just waking,
mist-drenched and dizzying…
I wandered deep into it,
entranced,
never to return.

Her steps —
mysterious as the sea’s dense murmurs
when dusk is full.

Each footfall
layered with gentle unrest,
floated
toward the dimples of innocent laughter,
ever deeper,
until freedom itself
seemed just a breath away…

And my fevered imagination
scrambled and stumbled blindly,
thrashing with futile longing.

But oh — the great ironclad of love!
Launching its voyage!
And with cannons that shattered the sky
proclaimed:

Heaven, red with blood, is boiling!
Let the burning Utopia blaze in delight!

But her steps —
her steps are also
so firm,
so forward…
As if from the unreachable gleam ahead
some force of fate
pulls her onward,
irresistible,
unmatched.

And I —
I am helpless.

Forward…
A paltry mayfly,
daring to stop
the eternal rise of the sun
with one trembling day of life.

My proud, resounding cries
were silenced,
crushed into a choking hush,
into shattered bone…

She paid them no mind.

With unbearable grace
she brushed aside the clamor —
brushed away the storms —
and moved forward.

Her heels,
cold as the blade of an axe,
hacked into my flesh.

And the rustling of her skirt
drifted farther, farther still —
until only the groans
of withered grass remained.

The moon, pale and ravenous,
devoured every ember of warmth,
and night,
black and intimate,
caressed my spine like death’s quiet hand…

I was calm —
calmer than I have ever been,
like the pulse
of the already-dead.

In vain I turned again and again
to lick the bitterness
from every grain of this earth —
each one once soaked
in the sweet sweat of youth.

And her scent, receding,
took with it
my last ray
of sunlight.

A flower oh so rare
Just one amongst a garden full
Gleaming bright like a star
Impossible to deny its pull

Caving to its beauty
Set on to find the seeds
After years of search
Heart finally found what it needs

It starts with excitement
Grows into a beautiful bloom
With lush leaves unseen
Nurtured by everything it assumes

But time of course takes its toll
Once you have it, it fades away
What once was everything in the world
Slowly becomes a far and distant sway

One missed watering
A harmless slight
Surely tomorrow
It’ll regain its might

Forgetting to nourish
Neglecting to tend
Assuming its resilience
Would never bend

But with wilted petals
It whispered goodbye
It couldn’t survive
Even though it did try

In this bittersweet garden of love
A lesson to be learnt
Just like flowers without enough care
Bonds too can be burned

trying to show someone
who cannot see their own beauty
how beautiful they are
is like trying to capture
a picture of the moon.

no matter the angle,
no matter the light,
it’s never the same
as standing beneath the sky yourself.

i wish you could
stand here with me
and look at the moon together

but i can only
send you a photo.
it will never show you what i see.

The sea rose,
a basswood tree
restlessly kept;

perhaps, in due time,
won’t it fall?

It’s wood,
perhaps,
it would.