that first night

A not-love poem
  about a night
    A poem of a dream,
      of a memory
        For someone,
          a not-love poem.

I love...

you were there,
though silent and still a secret

you were there,
that night I fell

           I fell
    not with a crash
    not in a puddle of mud
    not in anticipation and desperation
    not with a single tear

  but with a sound of a sweet calm smile
          like a grace of a feather
        like the joy inside a gentle pour
  I fell
       softly in the softest of grass
                 as
               I
                  lay
              my
                 head
                on
                   
                   you

           that night of not-love
I fell in
     love with

   you, the sweetest name
          I held your hand
                  so this is heaven
                  a thrilling sensation
                  euphoric
                  a dream
        as we dragged along
           a rollercoaster
                           of
                          brews
                           of
                     feelings
               and emotions

           naked and dressed

 so new,
  crashes the thin ice of
      our youth
        images and words
    scared and tattooed in our minds

...

Love

  you, ice creams and movies
  dim street lights and bay walks

     no more, no less
     this is all
     I wish for
                     is

us, once carefree and reckless, now held back with hidden fears,
with heartaches, with mistakes, and with a pain...
         intolerable
with burning and crashing chest deep in a pool of
         frustrations,
         hallow promises,
         and permanent prints turned to scars.

We save memories now.

But in this night of not-love
I forget all about the world

                  except for someone I love

you, your kisses
(mmmmmmmmwwwah!)

the scent of your hair

  the secret in your eyes

    the sound of your smile

  the feel of your skin

you brought me here,
  in your secret garden
    and for

you,
    my baby
  my object of affection
    my adoration
  my sweetest embrace
    my love
      
for you

A not-love poem 
of a night 
filled with love

sunsets are overrated

The other day, I spent watching the sun set on my mind in a place where sunsets are most beautiful. In a cold walled place I sat and waited, imagining the scenery of things that should have been.

Yesterday, I watched the sun set inside a moving car. It wasn't the place nor was it the timing. It was just the mere simplicity of it all. It was just me and her and it was most beautiful than ever for I have her wrapped around my arms.

just because i felt the urge to write something but have no idea or anything and because this is my 100th post

It's true what they say; you are your own worst enemy. It goes without saying that your mind could be your best friend or the source of your demise. How could you ignore something sitting on top of you? The very thing that provides you with euphoric memories is also the thing that poisons you with delusions of grandeur or crushes you with heartburning ideas that comes from the deepest pits of your imagination. The thing that you so fondly love to control is also that thing that completely defies you. It brings you dreams and nightmares and a thousand other sleepless nights. It is a cesspool of ideas, lies, fears, illusions and dreams.

But what am I doing? What could one do when nobody understands or listen? When you can't even trust your own self? When you are alone standing on a crossroad where every road leads to a scar?

You talk to yourself. Talk to yourself in metaphors and in codes.

It's always easy at the start. The breeze is cool and the sky is clear. It's always easy at the start but then it's inevitable for one person to change.

I swim in a beautiful sea where the water is clear and cold. But now, I have drowned myself, forged a chain of my own making. I know it was ok because the sea would always be kind to me and it was what I wanted - for it to always be there. But I was wrong. I assumed too much, expected things I shouldn't have. I have worn a mask and created my own devices of laughter, and now, these things are failing me.

I shoot words all around hoping to hit some mark but I'm making no sense. Once, I was deep. It was a time when laughing or even smiling was scarce but getting hurt is even more rare. But I have changed. I have grown shallow and it was good for I laugh at the smallest of things and smiled for a lot reasons. But it came with the cost of my shield.

Point at hand - reality has its way of making people doubt their own decisions. Love, according to a song, is watching someone die. And I guess, that someone is you or a part of you.

Upon reaching this sentence of a post of contradictions and randomness, I can't stop asking myself where's my other half.

Then I answered - it's her.

sunshine inside a clock

There are these days where I feel... nothing.

It is as if I am insignificant, a nobody, just another expendable cog in one giant clock where I rotate and turn and suffer a million times for every single tick the clock makes.

This is the place where time is the slowest. The next three days are no different. Tick tack tick tack. Time creeps; I am trapped in the middle, neither awake nor asleep. But then, there is this spark that sends a weird but wonderful pulse waking my numbing nerves. That's when I remember her. That's when I smile.

Absurd as it may seem, whenever I think of her I feel as if that this big cold untiring clock I am in doesn't matter. I am part of something or someone that gives far more meaning to living. And it amazes me infinitely to know that she is there.

In this world of clockworks, I smile silently with the thought of her. Imagining her frees me. I see her everywhere. I see her in the sky and in the leaves. I see her through another window, in another world where everything is made up of one's and zero's. I see her in the running water and in the mirror. I see her at my fingertips. And those small hours are enough to make me shine in a world where everything is the same.

Devices of Laughter

Today, I lost my mask in a crowd of judging faces. The air was colder and my resolve has weakened. Solitude has embraced me more than ever.

Today, I walked alone like many other nights. But today, it was more obvious. I saw myself, the one without a mask, ugly and isolated, floating in a sea of forgotten thoughts and unspoken words. Heartburn. A moment of cruel melancholy. Empty words.

Today, I lost my mask for the same reason that I needed one. Today, my reason is nowhere. I shouldn't have expected. Things change. My fault.

Today, I tried to wear my mask again. It was a mask with shades of delight and a smile that never frowns. It was harder than before.

choking from the pollution

Sometimes, knowing too much is such a curse. And on these times, how I wish I was naive, clueless from all the pollution that occupies a man's mind. That way I'll never know and in not knowing, it’s possible you'd never get hurt as much. But, you can never unlearn things completely. The residues will always be there, clinging on like a stain that would never go away. The only thing I could think of doing now is to believe in something, in someone, and in a place where I'd know that amidst all the corruption I'd be able to rest and breath and be happy.

fear of heights

TRUST. That's the word. Learn it well...