My skin smells like your desires and your colone
My legs, sore from your lack of responsibility and consideration

How come my heart beats so steady and calm when I'm with you,
And drives in my ribcage like a rollercoaster when I'm lying awake at 4 AM thinking about you?

I hate the long miles between us,
I hate this table, the little tray and the cups, even the pack of cigarette,
I hate every little thing that's separating us.

"Break the cycle" says the therapist.
So I do it...; I break the cycle and I break it again and again, and again...
But you keep circling around me like a hurricane.

I'm not some lake that you could drink me as much as you want, without worrying about me drying out.
I'm a bottle fine scotch, darlin, and you couldn't even afford the whole bottle.

He got angelic innocent face
Hands of a gardener
Heart of a hurt child
And mind of the devil

It pains me to admit but I imagine you whispering in my ears whenever I miss you.

You're just a cloud that's passing by and I'm the sky.

And for my death wish,
I'd wish to love you one more time.

I think my favorite color is green
Not the green people see on leaves
Not the trees shadowing over the stray cats
I like the greens in your eyes, your soul, your touch, even your voice is green when I close my eyes to listen to you
I think my favorite color is you

Maybe I'm under some kind of spell
Everywhere I look I see you
Your eyes are everywhere...
In the sun, in the small leaves, in the air, deep deep in my soul.

It always happens after those moments where you take a deep breath before you let go...
You let go to fly, take a turn around the reality and enjoy the moment for as long as it lasts.
But the next morning crawls on you like a heat wave, choking you with its grip while you forget the sweetness of the passed moment.

It's not you that I seek.
I'm only trying the ways everyone else did, did it help them?
Did any of these give them wings to fly? I wouldn't know...
How can one know what it's like to fly when they're trapped in a tiny corner under a pile of bricks.

I think I hate everything that won't last, even if it's beautiful, it's still a delicate dandelion that can fly away with the first breeze.

The ghost of a one night romance walked past through me and all it left was silence.

"I am a museum of everything I've ever loved"
I read the quote and thought...
How many ugly artworks are gonna be hanging there, of my miseries, of my heartaches, of my heartbreaks...
And there still gonna be someone in the crowd, standing there for as long as they can to admire those pieces of my wounded soul.

Of course...
I've never said I belonged to this generation.
A part of me lives in the future, and the other part lives in past, and my body is stuck in now.

I'm not a candle, burning and melting away slowly.
I'm a bonfire, I'm a bleeding volcano, I'm fireworks, I'm thunder and a shooting star.
If you miss your window, I'm long gone.

Sometimes I find myself staring at you,
Not you, your reflection.
Missing you from miles away,
I can't reach to you, I can't run to you, I can't even swim that far...
So I find myself in the corner of my room, just thinking about you.

Mr Seaman

My favorite ring started to loosen around my finger.
Maybe I don't fit it anymore.
Maybe I don't fit to the promises I've made to myself with that ring.
Maybe I'm making space for new promises.