Archive for the ‘Literature’ Category
Ignore the infinite chills.
you are burnt paper meant to be left to fly away—
as dust. as memories to be forgotten. as once upon a time.
whether or not i could weather the painful decisions
i’ve inflicted upon my sensitive nature, there is no other choice.
i was left with no other choice.
you are the ever relentless wind amongst the storm—
of countless troubles and wistful impossibilities.
I will tire from thinking of you. I will tire of wishing for you.
someday, I will be rid of you. someday, I will forget you.
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Tags: literature, love, poem, poetry
How’s Forgetting?
I bet she regrets it now.
I bet she sleeps at night
pillow in a tight grip,
remembering that night.
Over and over again, she says.
Just to remember how it felt,
just to remember why to forget.
How life seems so spontaneous,
how it always seems to find its way.
Could it be fate just wanted to let her know—
that she can’t always plan what happens that day.
So when lips crashed, feelings soared,
only for one it seems, it can’t be ignored.
He’s not into taking risks, not into her,
not into giving up the past with another.
So she’d lie awake on her bed,
pillow in a tight grip, remembering,
in need of forgetting—
that one night of nothing.
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Tags: art, creative, forgetting, love, personal, poem, poetry
Flutter
“I love kissing you.” He whispered. Her heart ached.
Filed under: Fictions, Literature | Leave a Comment
Tags: fiction, literature, love, slice of life
Next
[Mature content] She tiredly rested her head on the crook of his shoulder and shook her head. What exactly just happened?
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Tags: art, creative, erotica, fiction, literature
Coax
[Mature content] “Yes.” Her voice soft and inviting, her brown eyes reflected an innocent need for something that only he could satiate.
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Tags: art, creative, erotica, fiction, illustration, literature
I.
She let herself grow
with roots beneath soil
that is old and worn
and sunset-dazed—
with endless gestalts
and make-believe fairytales.
II.
I seem to say those words to a wall.
It just echoes what I say, so empty.
My eyes slanted, small as they are,
see right through the depths of every word.
Every soul misheard.
In walls that are tainted with mistakes.
III.
Never be saved even when craved for.
Wave for. Once more. In tiresome, tiresome pores.
Hello and goodbye once more.
IV.
Incandescence filled anomalities
Engaged amidst raven locks
Within notes of auburn pleas.
V.
Hush hush hush.
There’re wires and chains encircled around the confines of these images and words. Screens with wide angles that only shows graying grains and the incomplete information just bouncing off my brain—
It’s not enough.
Clashing of Part A to Part B without knowing what the middle could be, just looking for that missing piece.
Shh…
Your hold is too tight and my head became light and I wish to open these real eyes to realize real lies.
Breathe. Give me some breathing ground.
You’re resting on the top pedestal with puppet strings on arms that seek to push those buttons to hear those words that are muffled by tape and fingers that seek silence.
Empty.
Truth that is not shown is never known.
And this internal youth is never ending when photographs are broken tendrils that consist of memories that never existed when lifted from gazes that yearn for knowledge.
And when your body has aged—
And your soul is caged—
Your lips tightly sealed and eyes closed shut—we require parental guidance.
We are held and deprived of knowledge.
And we settle for less because most never attest to what was said by the government.
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Tags: drabbles, poems, poetry
His and Her Circumstances
And there was this girl with no name.
Her eyes told her lies and her lips have become her fame.
She walked through the city streets with her dreams latched upon her head’s silky strands and with no notice
cut it off with her scissor-like hands.
The cobble stones of the ground she stepped on created noise she never felt before
vibrations with no sounds continued to pound on her soul and without a word
she sang with her eyes closed and she called it truth.
And there was this story about this boy
he said all the right things with the right feeling
but he never came close into making everyone believe he was a human being.
He raised his hands and touched the sky and couldn’t make out what was in his mind.
He was real, he was moving, but he had already stopped breathing.
So as he neared the ground, he gave the sky one last glance.
He felt the pain and he finally believed he had a soul worth saving.
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Tags: poem, poetry
Sweet Confession
Oh sweet piece of Heaven on Earth,
No other worldly wonders can ever compare
to the highest form of your love, I dare–
Say that you are the time well-gained.
The mist that has appeared in these–
spectacles that have reflected you forever,
Has yearned for your eyes to lovingly stare,
Right back at the doe-like eyes I bare.
My lips are locked with secrets unrevealed,
But my heart’s pounding undeniably concede,
Words unuttered are completely overflowing,
And my mind has prevented to be blown in.
I love you doesn’t seem to suffice what I feel,
because I don’t love you, I adore you–
Much more than what it actually means,
Take me, I’m yours… for all eternity.
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Tags: love, poem, poetry
Flight of Stares
Prologue:
Curiosity
Chapter One:
Sensitivity
Filed under: Fictions, Flight of Stares, Literature | 2 Comments
Tags: fantasy / romance, fiction, flight of stares, novel
Missed Steps
[Akari x Takaki; 5 Centimeters Per Second] Because the distance didn’t matter. I’ve kept her close to me all along.
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Tags: 5 centimeters per second, anime
Occurring Stitches
[Chiaki x Makoto; “The Girl Who Leapt Through Time”] Twenty occurrences for love to blossom.
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Tags: chiaki x makoto, fiction, short story, the girl who leapt through time
Perilous Waltz
She could only play when he was there. In her thoughts, thinking. With her—near her—just…
Breathing.
Filed under: Fictions, Literature | 2 Comments
Tags: fiction, novel, romance, short story
Gray Matter
I stopped closing my eyes
and for a while I saw myself fly
Wandering around the deep blue sky
With my hair billowing and my fingers gliding
Around around around the blue swirls go
All seemed fine and all seemed like gray
But the blue swirls decided to stay
And I’ve been waiting for another beat
to come my way, ready to give that break
I’ve been needing for so long, for so long
I closed all windows and I broke all doors
My eyes are still wet from drowning in yours
I breathe in and I breathe out
It’s time to break out from this grey matter.
Filed under: Literature, Poetry | 4 Comments
Tags: gray matter, lyrics
Silent Treatment
Sometimes, silence is the loudest kind of noise.
Back when it was so easy. Like one, two, three… without the square roots and the variables from a to z. Like when chemistry didn’t mean check out the temperature and if the ingredients were right, but how you blend with the person you love and how you feel happy when they’re around.
Back when holding hands meant never letting go and keeping you till the end of the get-go. Like when poetry is romantic and the words used were deep and the response would be ecstatic. Like when playing with her hair meant I like you and I don’t mind spending this time with you, because it meant so much more.
Like when you get lost, you stay where you are and wait. Because you’ll know someone will look for you… and someone will always find you. Wishing I was always there to talk to you, laugh with you, and just be with you.
And back when all I have ever done was write you love poems. And some days there will be the occassional hurt poetry but they wouldn’t really matter. Because deep down, there will always be those love poems amidst the scary black cloud that surrounds it. And I wrote you those love poems, everyday, with those soft sweet words of surrender when I kiss your jaw and snuggle on the crook of your neck–
–and all I ever wanted was your kisses.
Want to kiss you beneath that mane of hair. Want to kiss you as I hugged you from the back and your nape ready and bare. Want to kiss you with open eyes and smile as I see your eyes closed. Want to kiss you in front of strangers, uncaring and display of how everything is. Want to kiss you on your earlobe and see your lips lift up to a grin. Want to kiss you on the nose, your cheeks, your eyes, your lids, your eyebrows, want to play with your hair as I hold your head steady.
Want to kiss you and tell you I love you.
But that was back when it was so easy as ABC and not caring how many numbers there are after one, two, three. So now I keep all these feelings bottled up in silence. And time is all I’m counting on when all I want will come amidst this space.
Because sometimes, silence… really is the loudest kind of noise.
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Tags: love, prose, silence
Within The City’s Boundaries
I
am
cold
again.
This cityscape drapes and holds
us in perfect unison of our love,
while we hide in two silhouettes.
The lights on the distant streets
call us names and painful words.
I’ll cover your ears and hide your
eyes so nothing will get through
and corrupt all you still don’t feel.
Breathe.
That’s how we are able to live today or tomorrow–
because we are all more than able in this lifeless city.
We are all more than all those statues we hold closely.
We are more than the hollow eyes that still stare intently.
We are more than the secluded thoughts that cry lonely.
We are the ones who will never have the chance to go.
Just drift a bit closer to me tonight, I need to escape.
The warmth we bathe in officially has no reason,
so
–together we can avoid that desolate feeling for now.
Above our eyes there’s no more clouds to protect our contempt.
It is cold, I wish we could hold our arms in interlocking patterns.
I apologise for all the woeful attempts at being the one for you.
I wish that we could just breathe in our silence, not our violence.
I hope I can be there when you hold my heart above all the tall
buildings that we still cower before in the fear of being crushed.
The black paint is quietly dripping from the sky,
but
I still don’t
want to go home.
If I knew there was
the chance I could meet you
half way, could we just try to hope together?
I could keep you,
w a r m.
As the city sighs and we are regrettably distanced,
I hold it all inside so no other soul is able to see.
I look to the concrete calendars where the ones living
their lives cry for the chance to feel like life is worth living.
It’s not a puzzle, not a game,
there are more combinations
of life that we should observe.
I can’t see an end to this prison.
But
I can
see an
end to
our
misery.
If these controlled circumstances of life
have so many walls, why am I keeping
myself infatuated with being consoled?
Is there more to the roads, the people,
the scenes in this city than all the blood
that finds the single chance to spill and
r u n
faster than before?
Will I be able to call
out to you when the
only communication
lines we place above
ourselves fall to ruin
as these empathetic sorrows of this
silent situation confines us to the city?
Destroying the only place we call home.
For
now
the city (This distance that’s between us)
breathes slowly and reveals it’s secret,
“I am no happier living here than you.
But I’ll (Is killing me more than you know)
keep holding on for the chance to see
if tomorrow
will be
that
little
bit
better.”
Filed under: Literature, Poetry | 4 Comments
Tags: city, love, prose
dreams are sewing machines. 