When you feel low for no reason
When your sad emoticon is there throughout the season
Does it mean you lost something?
Does it mean you don’t have the wings?
That made you fly out of happiness someday
The wings which were the symbol of you being happy and gay

Aren’t the wings with you today?
Have they gone to some other land?
You would get them back if you may
Go to its origin with the wind and the sand
It might lead you to them
And it might tell you the problem
The problem why you are low
And all the things you don’t show
Perhaps, they could solve it
Solve the problem you have
Perhaps, it can lit
The light and the lamp of your life
And the brightness it might save
Like a caring wife.

In the book of Romans, the Apostle Paul says :
"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God."

I do not know anything about God except that he was sure to not make us strong enough.
When people leave something, even if they don't see it, even if their memory forgets it so strongly that it's existence becomes less than it has ever been before, something in the world forgets how to grow.
Forgiveness is difficult.
Understanding is difficult.
But no one ever really has time for things that come easy.
Remember that we did not give the world it's color, we are only here to watch it change.


I am only here to show you that even in loss, even in darkness and ways and places that we may never understand, there is always something to see.
I wonder if everything in this world is connected in some way similar to that, and if we, in our most bare state of being, were once broken at the hip from the pieces of this world we hold most beautiful.

I know what the body sings, and what pushes blood inside people's arms and legs, how life and death is the only art that humanity is worthy of remembering. About the ending of things: is there any better way to die than lying on concrete, feeling your Life detach itself from your core and knowing nothing that you can hold on to is going to save you today, knowing that this is simply a conclusion of what was always there?
Remember: we never love anything enough to keep it alive,
and whether or not you want to believe it, you need more than love, because we are not built to withstand something so immense.
But in our lifetime, if we are lucky, we will find someone who makes you feel the way you do when you hear your Mother laughing from the living room.
How even the smallest ways to love things are greater than happy endings and how even in our greatest moments we are simply what we are.

Your hidden thoughts are not so hidden.
Reeking from every look you throw my way
Seeping through every word you boldly say
Creeping from your aura and penetrating mine

**How Could I Not Feel Worthless?

I want to feel your lips pressed against mine
as you moan my name
while I surrender a smirk
after you fall to my neck
and form rose petals above my shoulders,

I want to hear you speak
when it’s late and no one’s awake
when it’s you and me
beneath the trees and the towers
as we look from below
captivated by the canvas above us,

I wish to stay by your side
when you tell me you must leave
for your job or your mother
and I wish to linger as well
when you plead for my company
as I ignore my family.

If it weren’t against tradition
I would plant flowers on you
every time I’d think of your lips
and if it weren’t for our religion
I would sleep beside you
in the most innocent of the phrase
and literal in the sense
to stay by your anatomy
as our souls fly to the sky,

I am reluctant to enunciate these words to you
in worry that you’ll see me
the same no longer
because I hide behind a veil
through my speech and my stance,
the swaying and rustling skirt
when I find myself dancing
steps away from you
as we stroll by the beach,

Now I know this may not concern me
but if I were to speak
and unzip my censored language,
I would tell you
that I crave you
and your mind and your body and your soul
and I want you, all
with your scars and your moles
and the crooked smile
which forms above your chin
as you paint your lips
against mine.

I'm craving your attention
I'm practically begging
But you're blowing me off
With a few comments peppered throughout
And an empty concluding statement
As if you kept a stash handy
For times like these
To end
What seemed to have been the most
One-sided and lonely
Conversation

there you sit, legs intertwined with cheap playground equipment
coughing up your lungs and your pride
they pool around you, scratching at the dirt
making their way lower and lower
you stare at the same sky dripping with liquor
sleepy souls still in their packages, just how you like them to be
from inside their homes made of vietnamese plastic
some dream of lovers with knuckles the colour of bone
others nightmare of their abusive fathers
others of streetlight eyes watching them, under a microscope
some even walk, under lids, their coffee stained eyes stay alert
then there's you, with your ego ***** and broken, dreaming of your old generic laughs, of the hugs in which you could feel hands clawing at your back so hard you almost wish their fingers would intertwine with your veins
your eyes on the night sky holding all the diamonds in the world like a jewelry store case
running full circles in your mind
you try to let your veins run dry
if only it were that easy