End of 2014

Counting down the days down this year,
learned quite a few but more than ever.

Christmas has passed by the door,
thinking about the present, but not the ones on the floor.

Since long I've already missed my homeland,
but I can't retreat with nothing on my hands.

So you think you know "life",
truth is all we ever knew was "survive".

Under this cold, endless rain,
who cares enough to see the pain?

I nearly thought that everybody was crying,
but I can't be sure if it wasn't just the skies, pouring.

As I grow wiser and my views widen,
all my sorrow will no longer be a burden.

Yet I can't write like last time,
when nothing comes to mind,
the poet broke the rhyme,
and let the letters unbind.

Love and Poetry

I know, I know.
I've been in love too, many times in a row.

Listen to their whispers,
seek within and without what should be there between lovers.

Have you found it?
I can't say I did.

I mean, look at the roses.
Can't feel the thorns before you bleed.

Nothing wrong with kisses.
Just some little painkillers that you need.

Long before I love,
I knew words are my sharpest sword.

A sword I keep forging,
as more words I keep forgetting.

Poetry, is not about the words you use.
It's about the words you can no longer use.

Words I can no longer use because they hurt so much,
Yet I keep finding other words that could replace them.

Poetry's like love,
just not that serious.

Litany of a Broken Heart

But don't blame anyone,
since this heart isn't mine,
not anymore.

I knew my heart, it wasn't like this,
it had no cracks
nor chipping parts.

It was beautiful
much,
much
more
than the mess I never thought it could be.

I wanted to tell you how to love,
but now it's been too late.

So later, would you listen?
No, Not me.
Don't listen to me.

Listen to that sound instead.
Sound of the broken pieces, falling apart.

Hitting the tip of the abyss
like a thousand raindrops,
landing on the concrete road.

A beautiful sound,
more than most
that I've ever heard.

As I listened, I'm glad
it wasn't somebody else's.

I knew it had no cracks,
nor chipping parts.

Sun

Is it the comfort that I give
because I'll never leave you?

Maybe you'll figure out how to do things by yourself;
maybe I'll figure out how to travel by myself.

I loved you like how these hands wanted to hold the sun;
that no matter how hard people laugh at it,

no matter how impossible,
it is still the warmth that I dreamt of.

Be it absurd, I would still love to hold the sun.
Because in the end I'm the one who's holding my dreams.

Not those people.
None of them.