Poetry

dormant feelings

Time will lead you back
to old conversations
long interpreted
to forced messages
accidentally deleted
to sweet words
never expressed.

Vaguely asking questions:
has the heart healed
is the love still there
did the pain go away
are feelings just dormant?

I hope in your mind the answers land.

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Poetry

some seem stuck

After all the pain
we inflicted in ourselves
though some are assumed
we are still both passengers
in the idea of us.

P.S. I had a hard time with the last line of this tanka poem so I wanna share some alternate versions (where I get the title) you might like:

seemingly stuck here on Earth.
who seem stuck with each other.

Read it again and tell me what you like more!

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Bitter

We Repel

Maybe the reason why the people we love don’t love us back is because opposite attracts.

But you two were honed from the same pole and one will always be repelling the other.

Daily Post’s Magnet.

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Photography

What keeps me alive

When I’m not traveling to a new place, I’m probably attending an arts event. Now that’s something I would like to happen everyday, but life only allowed for it out of my usual work-home routine. Watching local independent films and gazing at beautiful artworks give me the same feeling as when I’m traveling. They excite me in ways I couldn’t explain and they leave me speechless for a moment. Sometimes I just stand there taking everything in. And it’s in those instances can I hear my heart beating so loud, so loud I am very grateful I’m alive.

This post is part of #thestrangehertravels photo essay project. 

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Poetry

fate is the enemy

The boy who cried move
was the one who can’t let go.
The girl who cried please
was the one who walked alone.

The stance that they took
was the fate they received.
But the fate is the enemy
becoming distant is the creed.

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Poetry

a feeling of uncertainty

Oh how I want your hands
on my face, tracing the scars
delicately. I feel your heart
trembling against my skin
full of secrets. The whispers
to my mouth are wildflowers
from my lips. And your eyes
into my soul make me weak.

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Poetry

detachment

But in time
you’d understand
what kept me
from falling.

The wind
stopped blowing
for some time.

I walked away
tired and hopeless
from the edge
of the precipice.

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