You redact moments
you wish to ignore but
my memory remains the same.
Indeed, we are living records
of time and trauma and
they do not stay dead
for very long.

There is no such thing
as a perfect person-
only those with less
flaws than others.

I try not to let my
shadows consume me
but some nights
are too dark for
my light.

Why do we write?
Is it to fill the bottomless hole
in our hearts
dug by those who
come and go,
who defile and destroy,
and those who do
not understand
your heart?

You are the water that
grows the seeds in my heart
and the sun that gives
life to the love that sprouts.

For too many reasons,
this month feels like
a memory
already.

Some leave,
and when they do,
they take a piece of
your soul with them.
How many more have to leave
until I am nothing
but a shell?

Some love is only
meant for dreams and nothing more-
oh, what a nightmare

7:09 AM
20/5/24

Spiderman would have
been in awe of your wit,
Just as superman for
the way you never quit.
The hulk would have
been in awe of your might,
just as Thor for the
way you shone so bright.

I saved our photographs
for days like this when the
nights are cold and solitary.
Hard to believe that I
was loved by some,
and above all,
by you.

Nostalgia can be
like your favorite jacket:
it'll keep you warm in times of cold
but can become unbearable
when life starts to burn.

What is so sad
about nostalgia is
how it leaves one frozen
in time.

You may be living
without me but you are not
without all my love

3:38 PM
4/5/24

Are you hoping they will
come back or say they miss you?
Are you hoping they will
wipe away all those tears and scars
they left upon you?
Are you sure you are not wishful thinking?
That they have not thought about you since
and have gone the farthest
they could from you?

Stay in my life
with purpose or
leave and take your
dubiety with you.
Life is too short for games,
and half-assed attempts and platitudes.
I want meaning, I want passion,
I want the one.

What if we are not
the writers of our story?
A writer knows the next page
where as we are prisoners
of the past and present.
Hell, some of us barely live a story,
but merely characters in another's story,
or worse, nothing but a tragedy.

If my time were to end
tomorrow,
I would hope not to upset you.
Just know that I lived life to
the best of my ability.
Know that I remained loyal,
bold and sometimes bizarre.
So if I meet my end
tomorrow,
think of it more as a
mere inconvenience
rather than a tragedy.
I have lived a hundred lives,
been on a thousand journeys,
so just be sure to wish me a
safe and thrilling journey
for whatever comes next.

I would erase all the poetry
I had ever written for you if
it would free me from
your grasp.

Our time was brief-
so brief that you left
without really arriving.
I did not even have the time
to say goodbye to you.
Our time flashed before my eyes,
and just like that,
we were strangers
again.

There are so many
people who have entered my life
and have left behind a piece of them
in my heart.
What an honor it has been,
to cross paths with all the beautiful people
who still reside in this heart
and these memories.
Thank you for for the memories,
the growth, the lessons and the joy
and I hope we can
cross paths again.

I found you
in the dead of night-
a lost and lonely wanderer.
So I took you in,
cleaned up this house and
made space for you to stay.
You stayed for a while and
we felt lonely no more.
This house became our house,
and when it was your time to leave,
this place was never the same
no matter how many times I
tried to fill your absence.

They are
dreams and
nothing more.
Impossible ones-
simply illusions
that have worn
out over time.

I have reached
a crossroad once again.
Will you lead me down the road
I need to follow,
The one of dreams and delectations?
Or will you take me down the
road I would rather forget?
The one that leaves me
lost every time.

There,
you will forever stay,
my favorite place of all:
our memories.

I wish people were
more like shooting stars
that would disappear in
a flash of an eye,
leaving no trace but
the memories of something
that was once beautiful
rather than the sun-
an unforgiving and inescapable
giant that leave us burnt
and burdened.

How do you know if
you are missing someone or
simply the feelings they made you feel?
Is there any way to know for sure?
The memories will last forever
but the nostalgia will come and go
like tides on a lonely shore.
So is it you or the feelings we shared
that I find washed up from sea?
My own little treasure chests
I will cherish forever.

Be sure to
contain those
seas and storms within you
or else those leaks and lightning
will leave you drowning.

It was your spark that
lit this divine fire within this heart.
I am convinced that it
will burn forever.

Relationships and solitude:
they are just two sides of the same coin.  
I aim to flip the coin and find
the balance in every outcome
and each side the
coin may fall.

Of all that I know,
of all that I have seen,
you are the only thing that shines
and the one that gives me life.
Nothing is as pure as you
and as long as you exist,
there is still hope.

My memories are
like dissonant wind chimes-
they shriek every time
my mind's winds blow.
Those familiar tunes still haunt me
and to this day they remain
stuck in my head.

I hope the fragments of me
left behind in your heart will
continue to make you smile
while I am gone.

When trauma
punches holes in your heart,
we find ourselves seeking reassurance
and validity to plug those holes
so that love cannot
leak so easily.

My heart is a
sanctuary of silence,
a place where few have ever glimpsed.
The demons may try to penetrate its walls
but this heart has always proved stronger
than what I gave it credit for.

You should aim to be
kind and loyal but not at
the cost of yourself.

4:18 PM
23/3/24

If you know me by my writing,
be prepared to know me by my silence,
for the demons from within and beyond
have choked the voice out of me.
I don't want to speak anymore,
I only watch and
I write.

Everything will be
okay just as long as I
get to call you mine

3:49 PM
22/2/24

Still in between
waking up on a
crisp Sunday morning and
these dreams of you.

Truly, my favorite
time of the week.

Isn't it funny how
the days, weeks, months
never seem to change,
but looking back,
the years never
feel the same?

My soul's melody
can still be played but
it is missing your voice.
It is still pleasant to listen to
but without your harmony,
I will forever sing alone.

You make me feel like
'Dreams' by Fleetwood Mac on a
fresh Sunday morning

11:19 AM
4/2/24

What is worse:
the ending or forgetting
how to begin again?
We have a choice not to
give into the destruction and despair
or rebuild from the ruins of
what came before.

You are my chai-
there is nothing as sweet
or as warming as you.
I need you every morning
to get me through the day
and each night to grant me
the sweetest of dreams.

When I think about the adventures,
the laughs, the meals, the memories,
the highs and even the lows,
I am always left with a smile
and heart full of JOY.
No matter the season,
no matter the country,
I will be your friend,
partner and lover in every
adventure, hardship and celebration
we shall face together.
Your life and your soul
is a spark of inspiration and
your smile sets my heart ablaze.
If you continue to warm me,
I will continue by your side
whether it be at home or
a land so far away-
I will continue to support you
and spoil you in every
way that I can.

If I were given the choice
over a thousand sunflowers
or an endless field of lavender,
I would choose your smile
every time.

I want to
drink from your
lips as if you were
an oasis in
the desert.

As the stars come out each night,
as do my thoughts of you
the way they set my skies ablaze
in your beauty and every
memory we shared.

When you smile at me,
the sun inside me ignites
and the flowers of
my heart bloom.

The only one who
feels with me is me-
all the joy, the pain,
and everything in between.
Those tears and those smiles
only reach my face and
its my burden to carry.
This is my solitude and it is
all I have ever know.

How lonely is the
writer who sinks into the page
as they pour their mind into their words
only for no other soul to
witness their art?