I flew into the sun once and it was beautiful
he filled me with a warmth like I've never known before
so great was this warmth, I only wanted to draw closer

wherever he went, his light shone and lit up every crevice and place eventually freeing my heart from its dark tomb

I can say that I truly loved the sun and would dread each night he went away

you see, the sun was so captivating, he caught the eye of many and they, too, fell in love with the sun
he was aware of his beauty so he used it to his advantage
during the day, he'd stay, frolic and play until the dark would make herself known
this is when he'd leave to be with the one he loved, the one he couldn't live without

and so is the lesson I learned the hard way…
never fly too close to the sun for you will get burned

We met many years ago

What we had was so simple & pure

But life tear us apart





Now, here we are

You're so close yet so far

Sometimes you're just inches away but for me it feels like you're miles away





Circumstances separated us

But destiny brought us back

So, what do I make of this situation?





I feel as though its now my chance

But, do you feel the same way too?

Or are we like Danté and Beatrice too?





Soon I have to make my decision

Will I let you go or will I fight for you?

Alas, its a decision I wouldn't dare to make





Our story ended long before it started

Whatever I'm feeling now will just be buried in deep recesses of my heart

This feelings, I hope, in time will fade

the smoke of my cigar enveloped
my body as if it were a ghost,
i felt you by my side, outlining
one of your smooth smiles and i turned around;
you carried two history books, a bottle of the
finest wine and a pack of marlboro cigars.
"these are for you," you said, "because you
always give me flowers but i never had the
chance to give you something,". i turned my eyes
to our vase, where your yellow wallflowers lied.
i smiled as well and nodded slowly, redirecting
my eyes to the window as i continued smoking.

the wine bottle, which now looks like a rotten nectar,
is sleeping in an eternal dream on the edge of the window,
along with wet tobacco and moss-filled history books.
i don't touch them, i won't, because they still have your essence.
the wallflowers wilt over time, and i grow older with them.

No longer will the daybreak find letters
sent in a rush to the last of the stars.
No longer will it find
a box of fallen eyelashes and wishbones
and birthday candles
and all the remnants of these lips
wishing for cancelled plans and library dates
and warm Sunday afternoons
spent on kitchen floors,
running high on shared laziness and unwashed shirts.

Darling, love’s eyes are never ours
to behold in these daylight-tainted
sheets;

so if it’s darkness that shows me the safe space,
that allows our eyes to collide like seas
if it’s neon lights and the noise of the bass that look at us —
like we’re a well-buried secret
like t h i s,
can be poetry
just underlain by permafrost,

then maybe this —
you.
and a white flag waved in the dark: a fair trade —
can be beautiful, can be enough in itself.

Then maybe it’s fine not knowing;
maybe it’s fine not being yours.