Your eyes run up, chasing after your feelings— the softest echo  
of a heart, once feeling passionately in love, but only in secret.  
A storm of longing; calm beginnings soon roar thundering  
clapping opening and closing gates.  

The haste, becomes the menace of biting into a bullet;  
never knowing its taste. For any chance given, will later on  
pierce through you in secretive conclusions— another round,  
another round, for a scar so yawning, and a memory so tired  
of ruminating last nights.  

Your tears, are picturesque ashes; core flames that shriek
a pain  before a moment’s murmurs. While an after long
upshot,  distinguishes something oppressive, growing
out of your heart’s  flame— your cheeks raised red of blush;
unease in a fiery rose.

Wouldn’t you love to grow openly under the summer kisses  
that wash the earth in light; as for me, it seemed  
reminiscent of your former bright smile.  

You were once the joy forward looking to a better day;  
a ray after the rain. To reign supreme on their minds;
on  top of every thought of you, worn proudly as a crown.        
        The former is gone.  

The world nicked away that stem of your courageous,
precious, and outrageous company; during the wake
of you finding yourself
      _— you’re so restless now. _
What would distinguish your fiery beauty,
is extinguished; diminished,
          — buried by the earth.  

Still your enduring fiery beauty could feed greed  
into Hell’s gate. For even buried in tragedy;
you shall  ascend gladly to avenge those who hurt you,
in your triumph.

The old man
looks upon
his grandchild
and thinks to
himself, "How
wondrous was
the fleeting days
of innocence",
the child looks
to her elder with
a passing thought
as well, "even when I
am old, my youth
shall stay forever", she
holds his hand while
they walk together
under a rising sun
as the waking in a
dream, the pages
of time are in tide,
opening in light
and dark for
forever and a
day.

I grew up longing to be found
on a deserted place where the stories
told 'I shouldn't have meant to be there', counting the dead until I become them. I was written on old houses as I was left haunted and reminisced on melancholic belonging.

However, it is her rising, the beginning, the becoming.

I am a chest filled with lullabies, it is my reaching to the world to heal my heart, and a calling of the ocean, where my love belongs.

choking;
another memory consumes me
you beaming your sunny smile;
our dinner at a floral restaurant
laughing over unexpected prices
silhouetted by the last evening light of summer

so many days of late
my heart finds itself slingshotted
back to powerfully happy moments
picture-perfect snapshots before the spark was extinguished
and mountainous emotions grew to divide us

as the reflections grow stronger
these bright events will become what is chosen to be recalled
instead of the grim reality of the situation placed before me:
that while i saw forever in your eyes
sometimes a dream is just a dream.

vicariously
reliving memories
of this path
dyed a piercing scarlet
dates names adventures smiles LOVE
for a brief moment held fervently
everything since childhood indoctrination willed
now collapsing like broken glass
a seamstress' bitter failings
shattering mercilessly ahead
waterfall eyes
grief.

i spend an evening elaborating to you
another of the lifelong atlas weights on my shoulders
saint that you are
focused, locked in, nodding,
with all your beautiful being.
understanding. empathizing. absorbing.
all of the hell of these shattering ordeals i have endured

every day you grace me with your ears
my heart grows to long for you more.
careful composure cannot be kept in situations of this nature.
so i weep
for never has this
caring, patient
...love
been shown to me