A Love Story

We met at a club, twice. The second time, we made out because it was the club vibe. In the end, we got to my home where we gradually grew fonder of each other. We then discovered that we shared the same birthday. I then discovered his name was on my watch. Another day, I crossed the whole city just to see his face and we discovered we met before. Several days later, he found the oblivion photos of us randomly taken a while back where we met for the first time. Fate, as it apparently shows, arranged us to bind and fall in love with each other. We talked in poetry.


I see
So subtly,
You call me weird.
you state
You don’t like me.


You were able,
To take something
seemingly so innocent,
And make it personal.
I could be annoyed,
But I feel it underscores your affection for me.
And I appreciate that.


For aesthetic purpose,
Mine was an underscore.
What thoughts of your own
Does that hyphen stand for?


In the case that
Someday far from this one
You should forget my name
My face
My very being
You can at least know
That someone with the letter T
As in triumph
Tender kindness
And togetherness
Once cared deeply about you


My watch bears your name;
Your face is chiseled on my brain.
I, the one with the letter V,
As in victory
Vibes and vivacity,
Solemnly swear that
In my heart forever you remain.


A walk down a cold street, in a world filled with characters that are, as of yet, meaningless to me.
Listening to music that has no feeling to it.
A smell present that I don’t even notice.
Trees that seem like nothing but skinny shadows.


I want to plant this memory in a garden!
In between Lilly of the valley and a bed of white grass.
Where I can stop and enjoy them when my feet pull me there.
A garden that I will keep pristine.

But I guess it will have to survive where it is now.
In between the Bald Mountain and the sound of my mother humming.

Wait for me there


Wait for me there.
The garden can be as marvelous as the mountain.
The trees can also give home to the fairies
And every time the wind blows past
It sings about us and our stories.


I couldn’t say 10 nice things.
Please don’t mistake this as an inability to confess kind thoughts or feelings about you;
Chalk it up to my upbringing
Or my culture
Or, what it really is, my shortcomings.
10 nice things is a lot.
It was hard for me to pick just 10
It was difficult to say:
Your generosity;
Your smile;
The way you say asshole;
The way you make me feel confident;
The way life seemed to force us together;
How time with you is effortless;
Sleeping naked with you is my favorite;
Your oral hygiene;
The little moans you make;
When you write me poems;
And just so it’s 110%,
The fact that you let me talk about anything and listen attentively.
Please never doubt how I feel about you.


You nearly made me cry.
But I won’t.
Because tears will dry,
But my feelings won’t.
I cherish each second I had with you.
And silently pray our next crashing into each other
Will make me, once again, live in your world.


Farewell to O.

Don’t Miss Me When You’re Gone

                                 For O.

Don’t miss me when you’re gone
Because you won’t.
Because I will and have already done.
Sadness should only exist
On one side of the world.

Don’t miss me when you’re gone.
Wednesday nights will be dark and cold.
Summer will pass and days get short,
So much as the empty space grows.

Don’t miss me when you’re gone.
The year was compassion,
Trust and frustration.
I’ve told you stories that
I couldn’t tell myself.
Things lose their weight
When shared with someone else.

You will have
Million nights to waste,
Million days to dawn,
Million people to love,
And million adventures to embark on.
So do I on a different side.
My best bid of goodbye
Is have you not miss me when you’re gone.



                    For me, you, O., J. and T.

I’m always thankful to July
For bringing me into this life,
And for all the tears that I’ve shed
When saying multiple goodbyes.

Are there any alternative futures,
In which we could be bound together?
So long, farewell my favorites!
Life, too, can be a feather.

Let there be flowers on the wall
And love, like knitwear, keep me warm;
Let the bunny don a creepy smile
And let my honest grin shine,

Cosmic Feelings


It would be much easier
If the world were flat.
I would stay on a boat
And sail to its end;
I’d let the stream carry me down the gulf
To see how it begins.



I face it,
A giant black hole.
Time and space,
Body and soul,
Love and hate,
Where would they go?
Such knowledge,
Only I’d know.



Of a sandy shore
Comes from pebbles that
Have been ground to their cores.
Such beauty lies in
The endurance it represents
And the time it transcends.



You were oxygen,
And I was the flame.
I burned out more than I could gain.
I return to Mars,
Where you no longer reign.
Adieu to both
Oxygen and flame.

These Days


The birds have flown away;
The white rose has waned;
Green are the leaves;
Blue is the pond.
The clouds prove the day;
On foliage light faints;
Curtains rain weaves
Excite the fronds.


She once said to me:

Life (July 16th 2005)

Life’s too short to be ordinary
Every breath like a strand of hair
Like an autumn’s leaf, leaving the branches bare
Life’s too short to be dreary
A water’s flow may never rewind
It only pushes towards the wonderful things it finds
So laugh the days when a frown melts your face
Explore each new feature in its own charm and grace
Let the wind lift the leaf up, cool it in a daze

And I her, with all respect:

Elevated (April 29th 2010)

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky

Helios grants you your smile
Iris pigments your copious mind
And in your every breath
whispers the quintessence bequeathed from Aphrodite

The Muses never teach me poetry
nor music, nor astronomy.
If they did I would coordinate
all those sacred arts to concretize your universal beauty.

Pegasus changes his course every year
As Zeus’ divine silhouette draws near
Once in a while he exalts thee
to a prestige bolstered by Nike

The Child is the father of the Man;
I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

TD wrote Life first for her then boyfriend. I do not remember what struggle I was having back in the day, but she sent me to both celebrate my birthday July 20th and to inspire me to keep moving forward. With such support, I did overcome whatever bullshit it was. Several years later, when I had reached some mediocre achievements, on her birthday I remembered how inspiring she had always been to me and wrote down Elevated to celebrate her day.



On hearing granny’s house was sold, and feeling part of me dying.

Now I’ve grown taller than the cupboard,
And no longer write Russian with white chalks.
Dust accumulates as the traffic flows.
The streets are alive; people must go.