Final relapses

Staying up all night
Watching the camp fire trying to survive,
I see the little passion
it desires to live.

In a huge flame,
into a tiny pebble-like desires,
I watch myself
as it carries me to sleep.

And as if the fire was the fairy dust,
it follows me throughout.
Wondering for something that it has missed,
wishing to catch the remaining debris
of the forgotten dream
that casted on fire.

The path goes and goes,
in circles,
from outside
to inside.
Outlining the layers of my
eyes
now drifting its sight
towards the flame.

From the flames
back to the fire,
the remaining woods
that fuel the fire
burns down
as it reflects its final form
into my eyes.

Too much of one thing

I've touched many hands,

seen many faces,

smelled
 many scents.

But the only one I remember best,

is the hands that we held,

just me and you.
The two imperfect hands from scratch,
to one perfect hand by passion.

Those faces I saw,

those faces I touched.

The only face that scares me to sleep,

is the little face you pull towards me

in the most devilish ways.

A lot of scents,

I cannot distinguish.

Not even your scent enters the blood flow of the hearing.

Those scents you put on,

the scents you provoke with,

I cannot distinguish 

that one scent that brings me
to where you are.

Fly and the leaf

I sit and wonder,
looking ahead that the orange peel of the sun.
"what on earth are you doing?"
the little fly said to me
as it flew past the golden web.

Nothing to be exact, just nothing indeed.
Just a little fact that you past the golden web.
No one indeed, no one exact.
How in the world have you gone threw that shimmering poison?

No words, no words needed.
Just a little wish and a wand would do the trick.
Those little words that you say,
"stop being a thinking and start doing things!"

Now lets turn that around,
now you sit and wonder,
"what on earth are you doing?"
the little falling leaf has spoken to the ground.

Nothing to be exact, nothing indeed.
Just a little weird that you can talk to the ground.
No one indeed, just something for sure,
How in the world would you do that without me?

No words, no actions.
Just a little saying,
A fly can do much more.

Foreign words

Its been days since we broke up.
Its been months since the last drop of tears I shed.
Its been a long time since I held myself together.

The words that you spoke to me that day.
Those foreign words that you said to me.
The night of the rainy eyes,
you left me there.

With those foreign words,
you looked at me in the eyes.
No hatred, no anger.
Just sympathy.

Having no one,
caring for no one,
losing someone,
having your life being played around with,
none of those has ever been the norm to my life.

Those little tiny bits.
That last tear drop that fell from your eye.
The last look you gave me.
That foreign words you said to me.
Those were the reason to why it rained
on the night of the rainy eyes.

Hidden spark between the rows

Life isnt what it seems,

so much nothing at all.

Nothing in comparison,

nothing in opposition.

All that seems, 

happens to have no face.

Whether fear conquers,

whether happiness conquers,

everything we hold,

every little tiny detail that we hold would

create a spark. 

A spark that disappears with the blast of shooting star.

The spark that leaves a small admonishing grin.

Life isnt what it seems,

so much nothing at all.

Nothing in comparison,

nothing in opposition.

and what is written right now is something

that is hidden inbetween the small rows of crooked teethes 

that will eventually be pulled out.

And for all I know,

Life takes all the sparks away and brings back an admonishing grin.

Two cups

Have a little cup of tea,
a little spoon full of guilt,
a little drop of sweat,
maybe a cup full of worries and regrets.

Drinking the cup you say to me,
nothings wrong,
nothing indeed.

But when night comes and owls come howling in,
the only sound you will make is a small whimper and a cry of despair.

The morning after dusk,
having a little tea.

Have a little cup of tea,
a little spoon full of luck,
a little drop of rains,
maybe a cup full of happiness and reunion.

The gassy isolation

That little scream,
inside the glassy cube.
The small girl wishing for some company.
A little whimper hear and there,
closed,
shut,
used....
the girl has nothing else to say

Lost time

Blankly staring ahead,

mist engulfing every part of me,

I sit and watch,

as I do nothing in favour.

The golden sounds of the ticking sounds,

the silver layer of the hands.

The only thing I could do is just sit and watch.

Listen to the clock ticking,

as it trickles down my spine.

The sound does not move for a second.

Soon

the mist that covers,

gets all the remains,

whats left of me is a ear or two.

Maybe an eye.

Carefully listening as the clock ticks the same pace 

as my eyes droop down

and the time bomb clicks.

lost track

When everyone has given up on you.
When you stop your track,
the society wont look back.

For a petite figure like you,
for a buff person like you,
no one will ever turn back.

Not once will they ask about you,
not once will they spare you a dime.

The only thing you have
is you, yourself and me.

When everyone has given up on you,
when you stop your tracks on top of the soccer field,
the society wont look back,
but i would.

For a petite figure like you,
for a buff person like you,
I will turn back
because you have more than just a  you, yourself and me.

Everything

Ill be the tissue that wipes away your hidden tears.
The tears that hold a thousand emotions from one person.

Ill be the balloon that brings you up.
The helium that carries your burden without gravity pulling you back down.

Ill be the 5 strings in the violin that matches your sweet melodic sound.
The sound that speaks for you when you lose your voice.

Ill be the badminton racket that hits you further up.
The power that helps you soar up higher.

Ill be the hoodie that covers your head.
The cover for your embarrassing moments where i  keep you away from the malicious colds.

Ill be the stars that guide you.
The brightness hinting you closer to the warmth as you engulf yourself in dark fogs.

Ill be the second to the final statement that concludes you.
The last point that helps finish who you are as you conclude your final moral.

My place

I stand here,

the place where I had my first steps,

the place where I had my first birthday party,

the place where I had my first kiss,

the place where I was left to be drenched in water,

the place where I said good bye to my parents.

The place where I dug my parents to the ground,

the place where I cried with someone special,

the place where my children ran around screaming for milk.

The place.

I lay here,

staring up at the bright sky,

as air flies up to the open tap.

Everyone around me,

looking at me with glistering water drops 

as I look around one more time at the place that used to be my everything.

An adult that turns into a child

I crawl down the empty stair case,

looking for something to get me out of boredom,

wishing to have a time I want right now;

an adult.

From picture frames to news stand.

From milk to cereal.

From picture books to novels.

From crushes to lovers.

From friends to enemies.

From mom and dad to grand pa and grand ma.

From I love you, mom and dad to I love you, Husband.

From childhood to adulthood.

Now,

I walk back up to the same empty stair case,

looking for something to bring me back

to the time I want to be in right now;

a child.

History's revenge

You forgot me,
so easily,
so fast.

You told me you would be there,
you told me I didn't have to worry.
Was that all a lie?

You told me I meant so much,
you told me nothing in the world could take you away from me.
Was that nothing but empty comfort?

You told me once
on the building top,
to never,
never cry because of someone.
Never cry because of someone who misused you.
To not give anymore time and effort to the one
who meant so much to you
but meant so little to him.

Im not crying, just a shattered glass poking my eyes.
You expect me to crumple so that you and your friends can laugh
but just to let you know:
I'm over you,
and this time its my turn to tell you
never cry because of your own silly mistakes,
never cry because of something you took away in your own will,
as history twists itself.

Ill be

Ill be the towel that
wipes away your sweat from the long training.

Ill be the dishwasher that
drys your tears goodbye when you dont know what to do.

Ill be the bandage that
covers you from head to toe when you got a scar full of exhaustion.

Ill be the friend,
your only friend, that
would be there when you need a shoulder to lean in.

Ill be the person,
the only person, that
will ever see you cry yourself to bed,
whimpering names and sounds that smothers like a fly.

Ill be your net that
catches all the fly's carrying sadness, depression and lust.

Ill be your hotdog bun that
fits perfectly with the meat so that when you fall
I will be there to hug you away from harm.

Ill be the other half that
you are searching for.

Ill be the stars in your eyes that
shine when you see the darkness.

I will be the wet air
to hear you safe and sound,
in the room of only me and you

Leafs owning the wind

Lets fly.
Lets fly like the wind.
No thoughts
no regrets.
Just follow the wind
make way to all of us.

Let the wind guide us,
from darkness to eternal shines.
Let the cold room be filled with
over heating passion.

But first,
let us glide like the wind,
let us fly
with no thoughts
with no regrets.
Let us be free one last time.

Last breath of lily

Dont write,

just look.

Don't listen,

just whisper.

Let me look into your eyes,

and listen to the ocean walls breaking.

Let me see you fall on the ground,

not in misery

but in joy.

Let me whisper into your ears 

telling you how much you mean to me.

Let me feel you as you lay on my bare shoulder

and listen to me say

'I love you'

over and over again.

Written all over your body,

that look of yours,

that sound you make when you wake up in the morning,

the soft whispers you land next to my neck tingles

as I see you hold your last breath.

Opposite's regret

We were never meant to be.
Our surrounding,
our personalities,
they never matched.

We never talked,
we never glanced at each other,
we never appreciated each others company.

However faith got us tied in a knot.
You,
you and your stuck-up personality.
me,
me and my quiet self.

How,
we were never meant to be.
But its better to accept it then give it a small tug.

You were always there,
ready for me to fall down.
Ready for me to fall over my untangled shoes.

I was always here,
afraid to come near you,
afraid to make a fool of myself.

But one day,
that all changed.

You're not the guy
that used to push me back down
after I got up.

You're not the guy
that used to smirk and give me the worst feelings.

And,
I'm the girl
who would cry herself to sleep
because of you.

I'm not the girl who's to shy to show herself,
not afraid of standing up for herself.

You never bothered me,
but your glances swallowed me up from time to time.
I never glanced at you,
but the feeling inside my heart
shatters knowing the fact
that you wont act the same way.

You wont be there
to push me down.
You wont be there to be the bully,
my bully.

7th grader's cliff hanger story

I was 16 when I got my first bicycle. My parents were concerned about me not being physically fit and decided to buy me a bicycle. It was an ordinary bicycle that everyone else had, at least that was what I thought, at first. My parents wanted me to test out the bicycle to see if I would gained any interest while strolling around the neighborhood. I came outside, grabbed the bicycle and hopped on the bicycle seat, and started pedaling. At first I didn’t want to go on a stroll nor try out the bicycle but after a minute or so, I was curious about how it would feel like if I was riding the bicycle at night.

The birds were flying and the sun was setting down. The street lamp flickered on as everything else was dying down. Pedalling to the nearest bus station took 15 minutes. I got out of the bicycle and rested my hands on the railing while staring at the stars that was shining brightly.

I decided to check the bicycle by strolling around the neighborhood but the problem was, I have never rode a bicycle before. But being a stubborn person I was, I didn’t think twice about being careful and rode on my bicycle. Every time I got on, I fell back down. The street lights which were hope to me started fading in the darkness making me lose hope and give in as well. Feeling down and displeased with the process I made, I tried to reassure myself that there is always tomorrow but that didn’t keep my motivation on learning, away. I stood back up, trying again for the last time, my legs were shaking uncontrollably as fear overtook me. With bruises and open cuts all around my legs, I went closer to the bicycle and put my feet on the paddle. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and started paddling, waiting for an impact that never came.

The flame dances on top of the hidden title

Its not the titles that come first.

I have myself,
keeping away bad things,
restricting myself.

Until you came along,
One,
Two,
Three.
You count the burning flames and tell me,
"you don't know me like the title knows it's words."

You disappeared,
gone from my vision,
you ran away,
restraining me once more.

Restraining me from the title you've got,
the title I know and cherish.

I may not know the real truth,
but I'm willing to accept it.
If you just allow me to count the burning flames together.
If you let me know you a bit more just like the words that fill the title.
If you give me the chance to grab, I already know you like the title knows its words.

Reborn

I love you,
Just like a guy loving his girl.

I treasure you,
just like a grownup man proposing to the love of his life.

You looked at me,
no guilt, no sorrow and said the same to me.

But like a bear leaving it's mother,
you left me.

You left me in the freezing cold,
you left me sweating in the jungle without a map of escape.
You just left me without a
good bye.

So now,
I decided to say it to you again.

I loved you,
just like the guy that loved his girl.

I treasured you,
just like the grown up man that thought of proposing to the love of his life.

I tell you this
with no guilt, no sorrow
but now it was you
who said the same to me with guilt and sorrow

Push and pull

We simply must say.
We really do,
our tall fair skin
gliding down the frosty layer
shimmering down the golden door.

Here I wait,
and wait I shall.
For I do not know until you come out.

I will wait and wait until our tall
fair skin can meet again.

But heres a question
I dare to ask,
What would you do
if i slammed the door in front of your face
when you meant no harm?

Sad? Devastated?
Ha! Sadly,
those weren't what I felt.

I simply forgot all our memories
Only leaving a bright light only in my vision.

Now it's your turn to guide me
like how I tried guiding you.

Faith of a pole and a watcher

"Hello there,
Whats your name?"
A figure infront speaks to a pole.
The pole stands still, not answering nor looking.

The figure leaves and comes back the next day,

"Hello there,
How are you?"
But the pole just stood there.

Days after days,
the figure kept on coming back
and the pole kept on being still.

Until one day,
the figure didn't come back.
The pole that once stood there,
stood there with a lonely slant to the left.

Days after days,
the pole waited with expectations,
hoping everyday the figure would return.

Everyday,
Diverse with cold and warm liquids inside,
the pole told itself
Never, never be the pole it was before
for the figure has melted what was supposed to be the still pole
into something that was swaying like the golden winds of the west.

The pole shivered at night
in lonely-ness and fear.
and
smiled a sad smile in the morning
in pain and regret.

But the pole never knew that the figure was there all along.
Behind the walls of an old building,
Looking, watching, thinking.
Far away from sight yet near by heart.
The figure felt lonely,
oh so lonely,
however the figure knew
he only had a few days till he can finally cross the road that suddenly disappeared.

The figure watched day and night,
watching the pole change, clutching his chest every time the poll slanted
45 degrees away from the ground.
Wanting to run to it and pull it back,
only being restricted by the barrier that was never there from the start.
what distance can do,
the power it holds.
The figure stares at the pole one last time before entering the new world
where he starts to make another road to his magnet,
the pole.

Bushes with glistering passion

Bushes keep you hidden

covering you from the light outside.

They don't do much,

they don't,

however,

a simple bush carry a lot more

meaning than a street light stranded in the middle of nowhere.