She tries to be a young poet,
and I love her.
She writes every single poem by giving her feelings.
In her great imaginary world,
the universe gives her secret life about love.
I try to be one of her poems,
but she tries to stop writing.
The feeling of love in her life now is mine.
I try to write a poem for her,
and she always thinks that all of us will be fine.
I want you to know,
she is my love and my own.
We've made a great mind.

Every single poem always tells about the secret of life that love is hidden by every single poet.
The words cannot be their own.
Every single feeling must be told, not only by their mouth but also by their pen.
A poem is also a feeling.
No body knows,
so does the poet.

O my love
O my dear
I want to tell you about the moon this night
She is hidding in your eyes,
shining smoothly by touching my skin.
The wind
O the wind
O my love
brings you to me,
so I let you come in my mind, my love.
The star is spinning in my head,
do you know I get to have a bed late?
O my love
O my dear
The night sky is lying beside me
I just want you to know,
there is no body,
except you, if you let me love you.

I did not know that I was too young to think about life was much better and easier than we could hold on something tight when we did not have ability to try more and more, but still did it little by little.

I did not know that I was easy to fall in the same place in my own mind and needed more loves  than breaths and needed more life than lives, and needed more rooms than this universe.

I did not know that I was afraid of being brave in nothing.

I did not know that I was killed by the time, I was only a young boy with no weapon to fight and I was forced to join this battle.

I did not know that I was alone with myself, talked too much, and said, "The strongest will fall and die".

I did not know that I was only of the last part in every story that no body wants to.

I did not know that I was only too fall to feel, too calm to realize it was too easy to be a real.

If you see me in darkness,
I hope you will take me in brightness.

If you get me in silence,
I hope you will come to me to talk.

If one day, you feel I am the person who don't have ability to do something,
I hope you will teach me how to be the person who always have ability to do at all.

If one day, you feel I am too boring to be loved and you decide to leave me, I hope you will change your will.

I want to tell you that I miss the room with your hanging photograph on the wall of the room, decorated with twinkling lights between them.
I want to tell you that I miss the conversation we used to have, through a night without rain and you lay there, beside me.
I want to tell you I miss the light of the room emerging from the doorway, then you go inside without knocking it first.
The window hanging on the left side, a bench facing out, and the sight of people passing by are your favorite place when you visit me, right here, and you always sit there.
These walls are cold, and so is my body.
Likewise our first room.
You said what you liked.
A poem, but I didn't get to write it first. You said that you loved poetry.
But now, I love it more than you were yesterday.
Absence is now widely scattered on the floor,
and poems,
and cigarette butts,
and dust,
and tissue,
and tears,
and everything that ever lived in our heads.
And this room misses you.
They bring sadness through a night that is now often raining.
I wish you were here now, beside me. But it is a sentence that has no place in this poem.
Even though I'm currently writing it.
I want to tell you which I should be able to say.
This room lost its warmth.
I wish I could hug you again.
But time first killed me.
And I lost everything.

At 1 a.m.
There is a girl
who
       j
         u
            m
                p
in my head.
I give my hand
and she gives her hand too.
She talks to me
what if we walk together
in a dark night.
I say, okay.
She talks to me
before going
she wants me
to hold on her hand tight.
I say, okay.
But,
I have many questions
which I have to ask.
What about if
I reject her
by saying no?
I swear
she will die
in suicide
because she
                  j
                   u
                     m
                        p
                          e
         ­                   d
in my head
and I didn't help her.