But in the meantime
we must be content,
I say, to be misunderstood for a while.
We are all very anxious to be understood,
and it is very hard not to be.
But there is one thing much more necessary;
to understand other people.

One day, somehow
your name will sound again
and my name makes you feel
become abstruse.

Often,
time is not the answer
which we have been looking for.

You may have received
something that was once foreign to you.
I now have to
to be stranger
and accept it.

We have agreed to marry.
You marry the person you feel is right for you.
I married loneliness
which I feel will never be right
and that you have given me.

You are now busy at work.
I'm busy loving now
scenes
now
never again

there is.

I stood in front of the mirror again,
see a sad face,
looking for where to be happy.
I'm looking for myself,
maybe lost among the piles of books,
I want to find it among the quotes on my favorite novel,
which I borrowed from you.
I looked for it again yesterday.
But I lost you today.
Turns out we still need to write a story,
but not to write love,
any of them.

Even,
nothing is more important
instead of dropping the body on the bed
just to know yourself
with dreams too high.

Like dead leaves,
and shadows,
and all the things we find each other
in our heads.

A little light and pretend to forget.
A little disappointed, still not gone.
Then stare into nothingness,
and remember you
for every eternity.

What we need
just a swarm of explosions
which is enough for us to always measure
and then compare.

It turns out
words just to be taught,
then propped up
until death.
Fall.
Then we hug again.

When I kissed your lips for the first time,
souls unite and vibrate in the crown of the head.
Our world cries out just to be owned by the two of us.

The wind that had brought the news then stopped,
looked at the two pairs of eyes that were not mutually exclusive,
traced the area making out intimately,
put on a stunned body.

The air that warms the body turns the sweat cold,
the heart races as if we are being chased by danger;
so fast, and great.

The light touches our eyes gently, beautifully, and so enchantingly; relieves every pain,
burns every bitter taste.

I kissed those lips for the first time.
And the birds chirping from afar sounded more melodious adorning the ears,
making ornaments on every scale.
And trauma turns into the experiences we've been looking for, during the transition from adolescence to adulthood.

I kissed those lips,
feeling relieved and happy afterward.
But now those lips had kissed someone else's,
and I'm sure everyone had witnessed the memories.

I always imagined
I'm on the beach,
watching the waves roll in from your long hair booth,
seagulls flying on a sailing ship,
o it flies between the two of us
who are running around
looking for *****
on the shore
which turns out
to be close to the beach.
My lips,
so salty sweat
and sea water add happiness there.
I saw the sun rising
and setting in our e y e s,
which turned out to be a s i g n,
I needed to learn
to love the lost dusk
and also the dawn that came.
I saw the fishermen
who came
                   and then left
and that was my
h e   art
that was anchored in the old wharf which turned out to be quiet and
l               one            ly,
and was your  h   e   art  there too?
I always imagined
we forget names,
forget places,
but don't forget to go home.
Or perhaps, this is another option.
I always imagined
we were in a house in a cool village, where the rice fields were green and wide,
so vast that our l  ove was never measured.
The chirping of birds will always be heard
and answered so s w e e t l y
from tree branches
whose leaves are thick and shady; every time you
                            and
                                    I wake up.
From the windows and ventilation aisles,
sunlight e n t e r s to warm our cold bodies shivering all night
because of the
r
               a
                                i
   n
and      
         s     t    o   r   m   s
that never subside,
even though we have spent the night with various kinds of hugs
that are not the same.
Even I always imagined
you are there
when I imagined good things,
maybe when you are not by my side and I feel it is not something that feels good.
I always imagined
that I really love you.
And you really love me too.

O, I always imagined it all
when I see you smile every time
I have a bad day, and you said, everything
      must
         be
           easy
             for
              you
               to
                 go
                   through.

I imagined that, while writing this poem.

I remember the days
when you talk more
while I prefer silence
and listen.
I remember the days
where the conversation
only happens through one side.
I remember the days
where words are warmer than a kiss
and hugs.
I remember the days
when you prefer to side with separation.
I remember the days
when you try not to remember me.
I remember those days.
And you no longer want to remember everything.