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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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

8 hours

The sand is my bed
And the waves are my lullaby
The stars give me dreams
And the sun breathes me life

P.S. Just a short story about the photo and the micropoem:

I traveled alone again last May and the picture above was taken in Digyo Island. The night before, I was feeling a bit lonely as I haven’t got any friends around so I roamed the island. Eventually, I met the Rosinas family, they were very generous and I felt at ease right away. I even asked to sleep with them when I learned where they spend the night, along the shore and under the galaxy. When we woke up at 5am, this beautiful sunrise greeted us. Everything turned out for the best and I really felt one with nature during my stay. In a span of 8 hours, the sea and the stars and the sun accompanied me, and I never felt lonely again.

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Poetry

Achromatic

I rode a motorcycle this morning,
something I usually do.
When the sun hits my face
I closed my eyes,
something I barely do.

Opening them would be a surprise,
one thing I rarely get.
Everything was colorless
but I was sparkling,
something I never get.

It was all an illusion though,
and you were there.
Achromatic like everyone else
but I was sparkling,
and I’m always by myself.

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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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