Shadows are a reminder

that beyond the light

darkness exists.

Past is never forgotten;
time only teaches
how to live with it.

The future is not free
from the clutches
of the past.

Past is a mirror
within the soul—
unbroken,
omnipresent,
always there
to remind us
of what is left behind.

All that hate,
can’t stop me,
from loving you

You say I'm childish
For freely professing
All the words that are
Etched on my heart

As if I had any
Other choice but to
Be buried by them

I was just a misspelled word
you so easily erased
from the notebook of your life.

                  
Now,
how do I ever erase you —
the most beautiful poem of my heart?

Sometimes, I hear a song
through someone
else’s headphones,
 too quiet to name
 but loud enough to feel.

I never ask what it is.
Letting it stay anonymous
 feels more honest.
It’s not mine.
I was just near it.

A violin behind a closed door
  in an apartment I’ll never enter.
Footsteps on an old wooden floor above me
  like a rhythm nobody meant to write.
A man humming in the metro
  not to perform,
  but because he’s alone
    and forgot the world has ears.

There are moments I’ve been completely undone
  by a melody I never fully heard.

Half of it lost to the train.
Half of it blurred by walls.
But something in me
  was tuned
    just right
      to catch what escaped.

We think music is what’s played.
But maybe it’s also what passes through
      when we weren’t looking.
      When we didn’t try to hold it.
      Or name it.
      Or own it.