Not the people,
Not the stories,
Not the voices,
Not the laughter,
Not the warmth,
Not the truth,
Not the ideas,
Not the travel,
Not the scenery,
Nothing, not anything
Sometimes....

Light is just enough.

-

... even that
Tiny silver butterflies
Clinging to your ears
Were flipping
Their wings today...

-

Her eyes are
Absolute classics
With
Live staging
And
Apt grammar

-

There's a library
Inside me
Lined up with
The memories
We made together

-

I touched her
With my fingers
She moaned and puked
Few notes
That utterly striped off
My inner blankets

-me and my typewriter

-

All the darkness
Is not the horror-
Most of the memories,
Curving smiles,
Only survive
At nights.

-

You filled my pages
With your
Solo acting commas

Suspending
My words to play
Mute dramas

-

In our convo
I often lose focus
In your
Eye motion's narrative

-

My bacteriafied letters,
Still chirping
To fall into her arms

-

Dream are real dimension;
Everyone loves sky on the ground.

-