It’s how it beats…

Iridescent, like a waterfall. You breathe, we fall. We swim within our pores grasping for air.
Your touch, your hair. I could do this rhythm forever, and ever.
It beats under my skin, in search of your beat to sync and swim, and smile, and your voice comes out with warm air and it fogs, it suffocates the space we create. —Colors become dull around you, iridescent is your scent that glows, when you whisper, when you call out my name, when you grab and release, oh, when you release - I float.

White elephant.

If you come. In. Taking attemptive steps. You fly around like an angel.
Shattered, scattered is the fort I have built. They were my egg shells.

As fragile, tangible desire to hold your face again. Against. Mine.
I can smell you in my dreams, my walls cave in.

I can hear the sound of your notes, my sorrow takes over and there, there, there…
It is flooded. Shells become boats and swim away. Washed by the empty space.

Gone. Gone is what I know.

It was always you that stood still. Dormant. I close my eyes and repeat, build again, against my soul. 

Missing you is an understatement, missing you is like a job. I. Resign.
The empty space is bigger than I can describe. 

There is really no point. No.
It is never black or white, however I see no gray.
Areas between us are like spoken dreams that die.
Once they become words, idealized.

I wished upon a star many times, I cried a little.
I flipped my pillow for a dry side.
I opened my eyes and didn’t see the light.

There is really no point. No.
It’s nature at it’s best, it’s the rain within a hurricane.
It’s you out of my life and the maps have roads.
All leading to one place - my heart. 

Breathe in, don’t forget to let it out.

I burn as I inhale. It is dark and hot.
It sits in my mouth, travels through my deepest thoughts.

I look up into the sky, hoping I will see an angel.
Clouds leave my lungs, creating shapes that I could only hope
is the pain vanishing away.

I dream when I am awake, I dream of another day.
Where it made sense.
Where you and I were the same.

I look at the floor as it moves passed me.
Why is it that memories only stand behind me,
when my dreams are the ones I can never reach?

The wind tries to stick, the wind is what insists…
on making tears dance around my face,
reminiscing the wetness of your kiss.

My fists are locked up, if I could only punch it out of my chest.
If I could only punch you in the face.
Under my fingernails there is an entire story to be told as I play. 

I hate that happiness is a representation of our fate.
I hate it that fate is no longer with you.
I hate it that… it hasn’t killed me,
and I sure know it will never kill you. 

It hasn’t killed me… not yet, making my stronger, I bet.

I take another hit and blow the smoke again,
because even my own body knows that, hope is the last one to be gone.

Hope is what keeps me sane.

I should’ve known, I should have known.
That your intentions weren’t gone.
They were never there.

Anywhere.

If time is an issue, why hold it with your hands?
Holding on tight to what was never yours is an issue.
Holding on tight to something that is gone is insane.

I should’ve known, I should have known.
That chances come from changes,
and changes come from within.  

Tic-toc.

Sad is letting someone go.
Not because of the weather, but the stories they told you so.
Where progress was not taken into consideration,
While the clock never sat still.
Still.
I will wonder if a decision was made from my thoughts or your actions.
Or both together, with the lack of expression.

From my end to your beginning, we stroke stuck.
Burst into tears like a comet with no shame.
Brightened night with fallen sorrows, the sun is yet to come.
Undone.
Slow minutes alone, the tic-toc of your voice.

I will probably forever love you, but I no longer love what you neglect.
We.

Lost within…

This is where we are.
Where we planned to be.
We adjust.
We conquer.
We let go.

Is it our dreams or the reality within?
That makes us see.
That let us hope.

I am lost. 

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i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) 

e.e. Cummings

Untitled.

I have words.
Hanging down my throat, I choke.
I cry inside I wish I could end.

This helpless feeling of time out of my hands.

To miss someone is to love endlessly.
 Uncontrollably.
 Hopelessly.

Uncomfortable feeling of acceptance.
Hanging down my chest, I pray.
I smile when I think of you. 

You and me.

I am in a rush to slow you down.
To make you fall in love with me…
Like a kid that grew up too fast.
Where you know there is magic inside you,
but this reality, is what is truly happening.
Surrounding you.
Me.

paper airplanes

The best paper airplane in the world.
A child’s smile, the hope for wind.
An impeccable wind for a mission to be accomplished.

If trust is like paper…
that means if it is ever crumbled, it will never be perfect and flawless again.

Fly Around the World.
Aren’t we all so silly, so naïve, so innocent to believe.

Holding hands, sharing smiles, slow motion is always nicer.
It gives the brain enough time to appreciate and understand what to value.
To see what is brighter.

The best paper airplane in the world.
The one being creased by those giant hands,
with the voice that knows no wrong.
With an explanation that knows it all.
Enchantment has taken over, you can hear your own heart beat.

Start with an ordinary sheet of paper, fold over the left corner and crease.

And crease again.
Again and again.
As smiles get bigger, the imagination has taken off.

Fly fly away you go, unhappy thoughts of the trust we broke.

Can we ever hold hands with no fear of a broken wind?
Did we crease a thin line where trust was broken,
or did we crumble it with our bare hands and threw that paper away…
and there in the trash it shall stay?

The best paper airplanes in the world.
Those are the ones we know, the ones to keep.
No matter how hard, no matter how deep.
Creased and broken trust, from the ones we love.

Those we call mistakes, because through real life and real problems…
We are the ones that will grow and learn when to crease.
And when to crumble.
And when to let go.

*Dedicated to my dear friend Rebeca who posted a statement about trust and paper. A realist dreamer. My father, who is the most amazing man I know and my nephew, a child that seems to know exactly how I feel about my dad.

I pinky swear

I don’t just love you for who you are.
I love you for how you make me feel.

Not because of how you got here.
But because with you, I wont sit still.

Call it tomorrow,
here today.
I pinky swear, I believe you will stay.

All of that because of who you are.
All of that because no matter what.
All of that because in the end, it was always you.

Questioning.

You can say what you mean.
But what you meant,
might not be exactly what you wanted to say.

We cannot delete, cotrol+z, or hit undo.
We can apologize, look forward to a fresh start, 
I can hope that you do.

If the past is the only thing we cannot change,
what makes it so definite if we have the future to live?
If there are things that cannot be undone,
how come we get stuck on them rather than accept the new ones?

You can say what you mean.
But what you meant,
might not be exactly that. Repeat. You will get it right. 

Sometimes, just sometimes we can play.
Replay.
A moment, a memory, a scandal that our minds wont accept.
Regret.
To miss someone is a selfish act.
We can taste we can win,
This battle field within. 

Image via - xime : Florida, USA

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