how haunting it is to be in your presence,
your hands so near to mine.
the hands that used to stroke my hair
and brush tears off my cheek.
the mouth that would speak the words
to help me fall asleep.
the eyes that saw the scars and blood
along my fragile arms.
how haunting it is to see you and to know
that you know
that the blood continues to pour
and the scars
are forevermore.

I fell in love with the idea of you.
You know,
that unrealistic belief that the moon is made of cheese,
that I can walk above the water,
that people who fall in love live "happily ever after".
Oh you know,
that meeting you was fate, destiny, chance-and
God I want another-
and not simply coincidence mocking and plucking my
heartstrings.
But I was terrified of the hypothesis I formed of you,
of testing the conjecture and getting appalling and
contradicting results.
Thus,
to protect the fictional character of my book,
I clenched my teeth and walked right past you.

I am so young
Yet so strong
Strongly salty
Like the seawater
Strongly lazy
Like the wind

I am dull
As a knife I don't have worth
Even pen can stab but I cannot
I am the seawater; I am the wind
I don't need to explain my worth to you

Every morning I wake up with poetry
On the tip of my tongue
On every clip of my nail
My fallen hair
The dead cells on my bed
My greasy face

I open my eyes with poetry
This heart beats in poetry
These erythrocytes carry poetry
I breathe poetry
I live in poetry
I do not need words
Not all poetries are words
And that's enough