Life, a short nap;
while our
eternal dream awaits.

-

like a peek to the sky in its afterglow.
like evening musk on its way.
like myself when I say your name.
and the way it all
entangles itself,

-

One of these random days I'll be hungry for more of me beside myself. I'll stare at the glitter night sky and sleep in the sun. It's been ages since I felt the warmth of home where I'd sit by the fireplace and let its heat bother me.
Why would the heat bother me is a different question. Because if I had super powers I'll still be looking for pain to understand what I'm feeling. Or fear. Or both tangled with one another.
After all, what I fear most is not fearing anything. And very few people know I have a fear of heights but guess all I've been doing is looking down. And not all falls lead to death.
Sometimes, you get up and not tell anybody. and not everyone wants to be saved. Some just want to fall gracefully. I just want to get up afterwards.
Sometimes I feel the cold doesn't bother me, other times I shiver under my blankets. I can't tell if I'm cold or scared.
And I'll still freeze right by that fireplace anyway. Or burn, who knows?

-

And not once I find myself dying, but standing,
if in front of mirror then invisible,
if among people then unnoticed,
if on a busy road then permeable,
if under the lights then transparent,
if loved then untouched,
if touched then without consent,
if there then not looking back,
if here then not saying it,
if awake then empty,
if asleep then waking up late,
and not once it felt any different than dying really.

-

The dust settles on my skin and grips it a little too tight
I am feeling older yet somehow more, alive
like I've already lived through all this once
like I've already been
here before.
looking at you
blind in love

I feel wiser still stupid enough
to close my eyes, once more
just to feel again what it felt like before.

I mean maybe this time?
when I open my eyes
they wouldn't be crying for
some something that was never mine.

-

WHY DO WE WHAT WE DO.

(short story in the caption.)

-

I stringed my unwritten love notes for you
Adorned them with the beads of
Passion, care and one
Small pearl of my
Nagging in the
Center
And
Made a
Perfect
Necklace
To decorate your
Life with but sadly the
Strings of friendship used were too
Weak to bear the weight of my love notes.

-

Come You
To Of
Me Out
As Ornament
A An
Coal Make
I'll

-

1. TWENTY TWO
after Taylor Swift.

When you were 13 you wanted to be 22. you wanted to have a blast 22nd birthday. you didn’t think you’d write a poem about it but some things are best described as fate. except this poem. this poem is not about fate but what you’d do with it. you’d hold it in your palms and embrace it like a story. but you will not tell this story to anybody until you’re asked to. because you speak a lot but talk too less. because you’re bags of untold stories and you get bigger every day. every day is a number but when 365 of those numbers come together they become a mark. a scratch on your body. one more tiny scar with so many stories etched inside of it. why don’t you write those stories they’re bursting inside of you and it doesn’t look like fireworks. it sounds like bombs though nobody is hurt but a tiny tiny part of you. a tiny scar appears in that tiny tiny part of you and only you and God knows what’s inside of it. you remember when you were 13, you wanted to be 22 and now you are 22 and you don’t want to be 13. and you no longer want that blast birthday but those blast 22 years of your life back.

-

I think red goes well.
on blue.
I think, I think.
pain is colourful.

-