Search

THE WOMAN.

in her secret life

Tag

brokenheart

Gone Sun

She has gone;

when the sun was dying-

on the last day of the world;

my Sun is no long shining.

Advertisements

TRAIN.

You’d been stuck too long in your tiny world

surrounded by familiar faces and voices.

“I’m not an adventurer”, once you said.

“Never did I dare to take chances,

to break the line and move ahead.”

Then came I like a train crossing your life

My wilderness lifted you up high to another world

of everything you had been so unsure.

Joyfully you and I marched to the line.

Carelessly, a coming storm didn’t cross our minds,

not until it destroyed our lives.

A familiar hand from the deadly storm pulled you back down

to the entirety of the same old town.

I stood there outside the line helplessly seeing you getting drown.

Again, you became the same little boy sitting on a straw rooftop

hiding a secret promise with the train he once missed.

“One day, I will build my own station and have my own train

to break the line and to find you in another July rain”.

DEFINITION.

THE WOMAN is definitely a woman- ordinary just she is.

What makes her so special is the man that saw her beauty,

showed her how phenomenal to him she was,

made her happy and set her free.

Then…he left, leaving her grieve.

Buy may she know?

Albeit time and distance,

to the man’s heart and mind-

everlastingly phenomenal she will always be.

AFRAID.

I don’t know what I’m more afraid of-

Seeing you again or never seeing you again.

My eyes kept looking for a silhouette of you

among 9 million silhouettes of others.

My heart wished for one day crossing yours;

but my mind prevented me from wanting more.

 

It hurts to see my brightest color vanished into the thin air.

I don’t remember how many times I suffocated in restless nightmares-

with images of you haunting, squeezing, and killing.

Still, I’m struggling.

LOVING STRANGERS.

“What are we now?”, you asked

and exhaled a fatal sigh

in the silence of the night.

Obviously, we are not lovers-

we’ve never used to be.

But it hurts when naming us “strangers”,

despite how distant we are from one another.

So, may I call us “loving strangers”?

SICKENING DESIRES.

On a rainy day, I looked out the window

and let my imagination wander far away.

Vague images of you entwining me

appeared on the screen of pittering-pattering rain.

Deep kisses and craving touches-

My body curved perfectly, wanting for more hugs.

In my sickening desires,

you burnt me into cinder with your fingers.

 

ZERO.

I’ve once read about a phobia

-no matter what it’s called-

that constantly urges people to become nothing at all.

The feeling of meaninglessness

erodes microbes of flesh, blood and bones

until everything mortal is gone.

Lately, I noticed me stop eating.

My stomach crumbled; my lips dried

but my heart was satisfied

with the thought of non-existence.

At the end, when I’m an infinite zero-

I can step in your world

leaving sorrows and pains behind

to put on your soft lips

a kiss of goodnight.

DON’T FIND ME.

In the cloak of night, under old pine trees-

you said you would find me

“3 years later, I will cross the seas”,

whispered you gently.

But please, please!

Can you not find me?-

after you hurt my heart so cruelly

Came back to her and left me alone in the trees;

night cloaked on pieces of me.

So…

My misery,

my tragedy,

please don’t find me.

Free me!

HEY JUDE.

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

 

…”

Our minds wandered somewhere far away

Our sails couldn’t be kept at bay

You and me, 2 sinners in a runaway

“You have found her, go out and get her”

Your eyes starred at me passionately

as if they could tell “You’re mine eternally”

But sadly, I couldn’t be.

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑