Always About You

When I try to write something about love
I always end up writing about you
Maybe because you were the closest I ever got.
Until we had the balls of our feet on full stop
Just a few meters before the finish line.
You took the sun out of my solar system
Left my world void of path
So that when it got hit by a million meteorites
It was shaken and holed.
Holed right here, just somewhere to the left.

When I try to write something about love,
I end up writing about you.
And my writings?
Of course, they’re sad love stories.

To him who gives his all

You always seem to plan things out
What to say, how to act
You always come off too anxious
Pressured to make things right.

Why so troubled my dear?
To make a mistake in front of me
Perfection is not my need
Just you in your comfortable personality.

Loosen up a little bit
Let everything flow on its own
Our moments shouldn’t be a chore
Let it be your comfort, your home.

You are already fine as you are
You and all your mess
So throw all your worries behind
And let me take care of the rest.

Imprisoned Feelings

All I could do is smile at you
Hide my heart with words of trickery
The mind is always the doubtful one
The heart, always the fool
So listen to my words, my thought up words
While I lock up my feelings away from hurt

Then why now does this ink bleed with sadness?
Mourning for the heart in cage
The mind that held it prisoner
Is actually the fool of its own beliefs
But the heart is now tired and frail
And it’s begging to be set free

So I call out to you my distant star
Save me from my own distress
I have a hand that you long to hold
And a heart that you seek to have
But they can only make this poem for you
For I’m still scared
I’m scared to love

Pieces of a Broken Glass

It felt cold against my hand
Picking up the pieces of this broken glass
Everything it once held is now spilled
All dried up under the scorching heat.

I tried to mend those broken pieces,
Even cut myself as I did.
But still I tried to mend what was broken,
Hoping it will be back once again.

But hopelessness caught up with me
My hands are now too tired.
I could have held on with my will
But that too is now all gone.

I took a deep breath and looked up at the same sun
Under which the contents of my glass dried up
But I did not condemn it, for it gave me an assuring smile
So I let go of the pieces and I was filled with warmth.