dear someone so beautiful,

for someone I've known for too long, you've never once put down your pen. But I just realized the pen that used to dance on that plain paper into words; so beautiful, ---they were actually the fragments of hope that is lost. the pen that carries the burden of pain, the same way that smile screams for help,

--oh how insane.

for someone that has been broken and burned, you've never once plead for death. you are the aftermath of unkind love, and illusive freedom 

----but my Lord, she is the art of war, by the way her fingers move and touch the wind, so soft and subtle, I would cut my chest open and place this heart in those hands-- 

"please, take my surrender"

and for the many things to express how concrete her faith is 

for more and more abundant reasons from as mere as her sunkissed skin, when she stood in the water waves, seemed so scenic than it is, to something as significant as her silence. 

Every fall and crawl, e-v-e-r-y thing is kept fresh in my memory.

Dear you

I hope you stop planting flowers in your flesh

just to hide the scars, 

because sometimes, it doesn't rain

and as much as i feel your pain

its never enough to tell you "keep sane"

as much as the strength you harboured

know that it's never enough to fix a broken chain

of this world of your own and them

I hope one day you get on that train

that you've always dreamed of 

to get lost and build new home 

speak foreign languages and write too many poems

but for now, hurt and hold

be the warmth in the cold

do nothing of being told

because this life is yours 

and only you

with this calamity of pulling through, 

I hope you find you,

dear self. 

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt."
"The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War