I know you’ve just gone
but I miss you already
Oh, why not just stay
until I’m all done?

Not meant to be a lover,
but call me your concubine
to meet your needs
as well as mine

Oh, come into me
in the flesh, in the flesh
I want to feel meat
in the flesh, in the flesh

I know I’ve been here before
but I forget already
why I’ve now come
to feel this again

I never wanted a friend
I waddle around
asking, “are you my lover?”
Two birds of a feather fly on

Oh, come into me
in the flesh, in the flesh
I want to feel meat
in the flesh, in the flesh

Oh, why are you here?
In my flesh, in my flesh
I want to feel it
I want to feel

Oh, come into me
in the flesh, in the flesh
I want to feel it
I want to heal

I know you’ve just gone
but I miss you already
Why not just stay?

1.
The seasons changed,
but he still kept wearing
his yellow sweater during
the hottest weather

He spoke in three languages,
but has only felt the word:
Melancholy,
and the joyous absence of it

He wondered who he would be
without his suffocating sweater,
and the word: Melancholy

2.
He never uttered the word father
for it was too heavy on his tongue,
as the heavy rain on a bleak morning  

His mother loved him dearly,
or ruined him and called it love

A man has fallen in love with him,
and he felt for the first time; the
warmth of equally returned love

His lover swallowed his heart, and
told him it was the final act of love

3.
After ten years of insomnia,
he stopped measuring happiness
based on how many nights he slept,
a funeral rose in his heart as he wept

He muttered the word:
Suffering,
as if it were
a prayer,
or a lullaby

4.
Drawing road maps on his flesh
was his only consolation,
he chose the color red
to find his missing path

Scars between his thighs
as hidden treasures—
Centuries deep away from
people’s piercing gaze

5.
His new beloved was
shaped as a knife
They embraced
for the last time,
and the gushing blood
was his final act of love

I am a piece of glass.

a glass that has been shattered time and time again,
losing a piece of me with every new bash/
a remnant of what I once was.

If you try to put me back together, the world will never look the same,
for
I
am
shattered.

If you try to put me back together,
you need to remember that I am a broken piece of glass,
you will hurt yourself if you hold me in your hand,
and then I will hurt you more.

Don't hold too tight,
but don't let go.

Looking at the world through me may be hard.
I have fallen so many times that I am mere piece of myself now.
Me as your lens of the world would be small and stained.
But then again, I can show you the world.


If you try to find yourself in me,
you need remember
that I am not a mirror,
but a hollow thing where you can never be reflected.

It's a lonely existence.

I am a barrier yet I am a transporter.

You will never know

I am transparent.
If you want to find inside, you can see right through me.
But do not be deceived, for I am empty.

But with all this,
I am a piece of glass.
I am fragile;
I can be broken,
so please handle with care.