the flowerpot lay shattered on the marble floor. she would be home any minute from the lower east side, and his eyes frantically darted from the mess spread upon the kitchen tiling to the dustpan. before he could even make up his mind, the doorknob began to turn and a pair of red converse darted into the apartment. she was back. he held his breath as she examined the scene; she moved calmy around the flowerpot and specks of dirt, before caressing his jawline in embrace. "it's okay," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his, her affection proving to him that she wasn't at all upset with what happened. "i thought that was your favorite flower," he said, putting his hand on hers. "it was," she answered, staring into his pale blue eyes as she smiled. "but you're my favorite person."

sometimes i wish i could forget about things

sometimes i wish i could forget about life

and all the trouble it brings.

sometimes i feel my bed and forget you're not there

sometimes i feel nostagic and im not even aware

sometimes i call your phone just to hear your voice

sometimes i'm all alone and its not even by choice

sometimes i count the roses in my yard

sometimes i feel my body for all its scars

sometimes i forget you have to breathe

sometimes i forget we all have needs

sometimes i think if we want to grow

sometimes we have to let out feelings show

sometimes i dream that i'm asleep

sometimes i dream of counting sheep

sometimes i want a hand to hold

sometimes i want to take off my blindfold

sometimes i see a love so rich

sometimes i ponder why i exist

sometimes i feel my bed and forget you're not there

sometimes i feel nostagic and im not even aware

sometimes i dream that i'm asleep

sometimes i dream of counting sheep.

little lune

i got reasons why the two of us should be in love.

still too soon

i'll be there to comfort you; i hate to see you lose.

all the trees

sigh with me until the breeze departs into the sea.

dance with me

we were placed to go to waste so let this feeling be.

don't let foolishness be mistaken just for being young,

don't know where we're going or what we're running from.

you know what i'll say before it even leaves my tongue,

don't know where we're going or what we're running from.

I can see it in your eyes

I saw that the future was better before

Those tears melt through your disguise

Saying to me “I want someone to adore”

Some people kill, some people die for love

Some people will promise you everything but not give enough

Some people lie and some will speak the truth

But tell me, which one hurts the most to you?

And I feel alive

again…

And I feel alive again…

I’ve been to valleys and I’ve stood on hills

I’ve lost myself to find cheap thrills

I’ve closed my eyes to see my room

foolish youth enclosed in tombs.

And I feel alive

I feel alive

I feel alive again

The days are gone, the days are gone.

No more crying over spilled milk.

No more bubble baths or night lights.

No more meals being spoon-fed,

No more kisses goodnight.

I miss the reverb coming from your lips

When i was your pride and joy,

But now those days are gone

And instead i cry like a little a boy.

The days are gone, the days are gone.

It matters not the things I do or who I’m with

For the only thing that can console me

Are depressing lyrics by The Smiths.

You wake up three mornings in a row alone. You try to remember everything about him. His eyes, his hair, his lips, his laugh. How he would grab you by the waist from behind and make you breakfast while you were still asleep on Sunday mornings. How he made you feel so damn special and in love, even when doing the simplest and stupidest things.

But your bed is unusually spacious, and your heart a little too empty. So you cuddle onto your pillow, dreaming of feeling the warmth of his body clutching your delicate skin in his arms, whispering into your ear all the cute little words you love and with the brightest of intentions.

Tonight will be another meaningless atom of time.

A form, you are

That fits so beautifully in space.

How lucky i am, out of many

To curl up in my sleep

And dream of so many days.

Murmur to me,

Murmur.

Now that cold has left,

Never to return in such a way,

Still i call,

exalting,

Chilling,

Feeling,

Remembering those words

Written on that crumpled up

Piece of paper.

Elsker deg.

Elsker deg.

du er min eneste,

du er min eneste.

solen og månen

stjernene og fuglene

så vakker i himmelen.

men uansett visningen

uansett hvor vakkert

jeg kommer alltid tilbake til deg.

im not so impressed by love

i know what you're after

that cranberry vodka on your chin

find another 9 to 5

but commit a crime twice

and it no longer seems like a sin

messages to voicemail

left hanging like a cottail

explanations so stale...

but nowadays love is wholesale

spread out like a folktail

why is your face so pale

love is just a word until someone gives it meaning. but someone is irrelevant without meaning love. i don't care if i fail or if i lose or if im not in first place. i just want to be adored. and cherished. and felt so important and nurtured that my brain is convinced that i am once again nothing more than a child.

when i was four years old living in Hartsdale, New York, i looked outside the big screen doors that led to my backyard and asked my father, "dad, where do clouds come from?" i was so curious that i wanted all the answers to things unknown. a tradition in korean culture is when a new-born is celebrated, he or she is placed around random objects or items, and whatever the baby crawls to and plays with or picks up will determine the future and direction of his or her life. i picked up a pen.

and so, many years later, i once again find myself picking up a pen, writing of dreams widely shared and lonliness long endured. i find myself in a midst of life when i am both the giver and receiver. both the creator and the life in the hands of another. does it scare you? this life? or are you distracted enough to not care?

for many, life is all about the journey. but how can it be a journey when my life has been lived entirely the same? i hope one day i will look back just long enough to see the dust rise from beneath my feet, and remind myself of where i belong. remind myself of where i am ultimately going. i have accepted that fate long ago.

we are all the same, you and me. no matter how different we may have lived our lives they all start and end in the same fashion. i wish sometimes that whenever i look up into the stars, i can have a normal life, and in turn, i can have a normal end.