Boy, does he seem lost

The boy whose shoulder touched mine a few months ago

The boy with keen eyes

The boy who observes

The boy whose glances and stares,

are pointed to me

The boy who is entirely different from others

The boy whose breath touched my face a few months ago

The boy who is too shy to be stared at

This boy whom I like so much

This boy whom I admire from afar

This boy whom I’ve dreamt about

This boy who graces my mind with his presence

Yet this is the boy who always gives me a cold shoulder in the hallway whenever I try to make an attempt to say “Hello”.

This boy, is my guy in the hallway.

My dear;

perhaps the cure

to my insanity;

do you even exist

in the same time

and place as I do?

Does the universe

have enough sympathy

for my isolation;

to unparallel our paths

and let them cross?

Oh love,

my everything,

my nothing,

I am stranded

between not

and wanting you

to come around

for I am afraid of becoming

the fool I am if you do;

of having the hap

to cherish

only to, alas,

lose you sometime

when I piteously am

in need of you most;

and if you do not,

my heart shall

continue to beat

for my lifeless soul

until the remnants

of courage and fortitude

deepest inside

become nothing

but empty words.

- e.d.

21 June 2016 at 10:13

There was a painting

Of the beauty of a woman

Her eyes were sad

But her smile preserved her soul

Her clothing was an old and dirty dress

But she wore it with the courage to show herself

Her hair was brown and simple

But in her hands they felt like golden rays

The artist didn't need questions neither he spoke the answers

But the beauty of a woman is to be strong no matter the situation

The artist admired the painting for hours

Feeling the canvas against his hand

Feeling the dried pain rasp his fingertips

Feeling the emotions boom inside his soul

The beauty of a woman, he called the painting

The strength of a woman, everyone admired

The life of some women, everyone thought

The artist stared into the woman in the painting

The scars and bruises of her were kept as memories of how much he fought

The dried tears of her were how much he suffered but, she survived

The dirt on her were the memory of her battle

The beauty of a woman, pure and memorial

The artist cried, feeling his chest tightened at the memory of the woman

Mother, he cried

It's hard to fake a personality

I have been stuck millions of times with the thought

My mother molds me to be a professional

But I feel that I am not a good inversion

My dad wants me to be who I want to be

But I feel he doesn't mean it with his heart

It's hard to fake a personality

I have been faking my own life since my birth

My heart can't stand the weak beats of life

My brain can't stand the thought fighting my mind

It's hard to be someone you're not

Because then you'll wonder who you are

Because nobody wouldn't want to be with the person they're looking at

Because they want perfection in you as much as in themselves

Because they want you as their companion with no friendship at all

Because they feel you're a bother but they drag you along

It's hard to be someone who is a puppet for others

Painful sensation breaking me to pieces

Repugnant image of someone happy when the truth is that I'm sad

Stupid to believe that they care when they just stare

Inhuman to watch the world consume you in a sea of lies

Depressions to keep asking, who the hell you are.

She heard the muffled cry

of her darkness

as he suffocated it

with his love

The demise of her demons

came from the softest heart

she had ever known

He ties his arm off with a nylon string

Feeling the sting, he wants the pain to end

But he's addicted, addicted to her love

He says they have a bond that only an atom bomb can break

He's stuck, blinded and narrow minded

Binded by her

He cant see her love is only simulated

You see, when he's with her he feels vindicated

But without her, he feels the burden

What makes you think, shes so deserving

Deserving of your love

He says

Its bliss, although she has the power to deliver

A kiss

Of death

Shes the missing link

The piece to the puzzle known as life

Shes my cure,

shes my poison

I cant shake her

I know her love is cold and empty

But without her

My life fades painfully

Peering over the horizon, sneaking up and lying low

A soft, pale yellow begins to show

These first, shy rays project a subtle light 

And cast their penetrating glow out into the waning night

From deep within their resting places, shadows begin to yawn and stretch

They emerge in contrast like the graceful lines of an artist's sketch

Beams of light glint and gleam as from the dew they are reflected

In tiny drops that leaves and grass have silently collected