Thank you for holding on

Oh Love,

I could not sleep at night lately, and sleeplessness is ordinary.
And mine eyes are blurred by such exhaustion: blinded, slowly.
But you are my beacon of hope, and hope is more than scarce to me.
And it’s nothing else but scars I see, a pattern that decorates my body.
The pain that I feel, so plenty, it fades away when you come close to me.
And when mine eyes and yours finally meet; two souls leaving their bodies.
Intertwined by fate and neglected by time. Far too much pain, yet we never cry.
And what is it that could stop our plight? For the heavens is the very thing we deny.
And even though how hard we try, we could not, would not, accept that time still flies.
But what is more to life then to lie and wait? For everything goes away, and that’s okay.

Oh Love,

I could not sleep at night, without wishing that you’re here by my side.
Two very small blots of Chinese ink, travelling at the speed of dark light.
You come forward with no promises, nothing else matters and that’s alright.
Each and every kiss is an heirloom we pass down to every blacks that has life.
And our nights are far more lonely than what it used to be. It’s nothing to me.
You and me, we were never here and we would never hear the screams of our fears.
We would love, and loving is too short. So if we would love: it’s either that or mort.
And our stories are not at all short, we build them up just to see them get destroyed.
But without love, joyful hatred appears. And that too would one day cease to appear.
So what is it that we hold on so tight too? What else is there, for us, to even hold dear?
It’s nothing more than our complete and utter failure in comprehending all the lost tears.

We have no where else to turn.
And we would, probably, never learn.


The Sky

We watched the sky
and the sky was plain
neither of us complained
We watched the sky
covered in clouds, birds flying
pondering about death in the morning

What would become of us?
I don’t know, nor do I even care
and, for you and me, this life isn’t fair

A clear night

we write
lines of poetry
with emotions
we’ve never felt
and yet sometimes
the tears still drop
but at the end of the day
what are we to say?
everyone deserves an escape

we write
lines upon lines of stories
thousands of made up people
living the life we give to them
be it tragic or full of  joyful glee
we play with uncertainties
to escape our own reality
again, what are we to say?
everyone deserves an escape

I write
be it poem or prose
hoping that it would reach you
and now they’ve reached the thousands
and yet I still continue to write for you
even if your lips love another’s
I write and it is hard not to
because I cannot find you
and so, what am I to say?
I cannot escape you

day and night the walls speak to him,
‘only change is permanent,’
they whisper into his ears;

‘she is gone, let her go’
they whisper into his ears,
just like how she used to love him;

and if he is permitted,
he would reply to those whispers.
but these walls do not have ears,
they do not and would never listen.

Only change is permanent,
and she had gone away;
while he is still just there.