Smoking the petrichor
fills my head with minty exhales
and sleep-drug drops,
The sky pulls out her long face
and droopy eyes,
The trees sighs in every sways and the toads sleeps in between the wet rocks,
For a brief moment, the air is cold.
Not freezing but graveyard cold.

Let yourself burn, let yourself be
Eaten away by the darkness you once preyed on,
Till all that's left is a puddle of wax (tears) on the plate (bed).

It's better to give out rather than to give in,
To cry and rage and scream and after that to lie exhausted.

Bloom like the rose after, coat in red and thorns sharper,
Unrelenting but its beauty brings comfort to eyes of lovers,
Rush not the pain of burning and blooming. Feel.
Not because you're weak but because you are stronger after.

Withered flowers reminds us that
Withering is fine.
Waters --in any shape they are--
Will bring the colors of us again.

What chord did she pluck in my soul
that girl with eyes of dark emerald
& a smile that stuns and cusps like sunlight so--
those eyes like deep ocean
with horizon stretching long and ever
makes me a captain whose feet, on land,
thirst and itch for comfort--
those smile like thinly sliced apple
Or at times like Greek marbles sculpted
makes my heart breathes
in gasps and stutters--
O my soul,
what chord did she pluck
that I am still stunned
enchanted.

When did I start to search
For a star amongst the mortals in the class.  
When did I start to wait
For a pair of eyes, pearls they are,
To enter late to every Monday class
When did my legs start to shake
When the sun is absent because she was sick
When did flowers become possible to bloom
Around a person.
Or is it my eyes who can only perceive them around her
When did her smile became so contagious
Her laughter, even behind a mask, pierce
My heart and all its love seeped into my system
Her mere presence makes a day
It makes a day more worth living for

wont you pack yourself a cigarette, dear
fill your casette with your favourite songs
it'll be a long journey they say
the longest we will ever go
wear your favourite dress maybe
dont forget your extra blouse
in case you wanna get married along the way
in case you wanna let go
I'll pack an extra toothbrush, dear
I'll leave my pride by the door
I'll leave my phone by the counter
I'll leave a note beside it
let my mother know you're safe
in case we wanna get married along the way
in case we never came back

I've grown older, sicker, disappearing
reappearances of the past did little
to comfort, brighten, heal my days.
not that I much of it left.
And for the first time
My sunsets are countable
never before I felt more accountable
for my pleasures, riches, kins,
Time.
Never before I've been more afraid
of what comes after than death itself
and less passionate or care
of what mattered before.

here's a poem for the dove on the street
the fluttering hearts of men
the whirlpool and tides of the coffee in a mug
the tinkering of a can slowly roll and stop
under a sky crowded of clouds.