Bitter

a scary tune

And so she lies there
With a heavy heart
Hopeless in this life, tired
From the loud music
Her neighbor plays at night

Accompanied by his voice
Singing happily, irritatingly
An old man who preys on girls
Bad, dirty, sad, and fat
Like a villain in disturbing films
He whistles in the morning

A scary tune you would hear
Shivering just like everyone
She gets her earphones
And would put it in defeat
One couldn’t wait for his funeral

P.S. I wrote this in August, I was so mad back then that I’m shocked I had the nerve to write the last line. Oh well it’s not like I mean it when I’m sane

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Poetry

rain & streetlights

I have a thing for rain
and streetlights

All the stories of pain
love combine

Shadows concealing your grief
at night

A mysterious fury the soul
can’t define

I have a thing for wind
and footsteps

All the mistakes of thirst
hearts ingest

Secrecy trailing desire
after sunset

A provocative tryst the skin
can’t suppress

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Strange

perhaps love

Coincidence is the start of something funny, perhaps love. It’s the first curl on someone’s lips after finding out you watch the same kind of movies. It’s the plans running in your head as you talk about this quaint coffee shop most people haven’t heard of. It’s a song slowly fading in on cue when you both laugh at an old stupid joke your neighbor used to tell. It’s when you share the same opinion about politics and then decide to talk about conspiracy theories instead. It’s the excuse hopeless romantics use to meet again on this upcoming event. Coincidence stops when they finally meet on the event and went for beer after. It stops when they arrange to go out the next weekend to watch a new horror movie. It stops when they check out the quaint coffee shop and realized it wasn’t so empty like they expected it to be. It stops when they both start making time for each other just to talk about aliens and the moon landing, to listen to corny jokes and cheesy songs, to decide to officially see each other and meet again and again and again. Coincidence stops when something funny finally happens, perhaps love. And probably commitment.

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Poetry

sharper & stronger

Some images
are sharper
with more grain

Some portraits
look clearer
with a bit of blur

Some exposures
are darker
than your days

Some hearts
are stronger
than they were

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Poetry

the trickiest

Among all the stares I know

The lustful look is the trickiest

You pass by each other at work

Then all eyes are under arrest

Across the room full of adults

Our presence craves connection

If we are locked inside four walls

Bodies will be inseparable til dawn

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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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Photography

things get bleak

Some bridges burn
Some things get bleak
Some people hurt
Some friends don’t speak

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