You’re a lover of beauty, but I absolutely love it when you draw ugly things. It’s like dissecting through me and tantalizing on the hideousness,
unevenness, asymmetries, quirks, faults and mistakes.
It’s gutting my pain, and somehow finding a hidden rainbow
From splatters of chaotic colors.
I love it when you see it; these bursts of fire red and seeping black blue. I love it when your brush strokes frantically because life just isn’t more. It’s a silly dance that you dance, of anguish and frustrations, but it’s so grand. I know you’re a lover of beauty, but I just love it when your hand’s stained in ink. When the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen rests on a dirty sheet of paper,
when you destroy its face into pieces and see me.
On the green grass, breathing in nature, during the sunny daytime, with you
On the courtyard, hearing the insects, under the moonlit starry nighttime, with you
In my childhood, I saw something on TV that stuck with me. This guy entered an empty house full of… birds? They flew around in slow motion. They shined. They were women. It was a house full of beautiful women. They smiled and they greeted each other silently. They walked around in slow motion. He observed them as he walked between them and around then. A woman, with a sweater on, looked at his direction and smiled. He smiled idly and waved back at her. She walked towards him and his happiness lingered with a sigh of relief. She walked past him and greeted her friend. His smiled dropped. It was as if he was completely nonexistent.
I’d say hi to him. I wouldn’t ignore him. I’d comfort him. I’d lead him through this oddly foreign territory. I’d smile next to him. I’d put my head on his shoulder and link my arm to his. We’d sit on the sofa underneath the ray of sunlight penetrating through the window. I’d look at him and he’d look at me, and we’d be lost in each other’s eyes in a vast blue sea of wonder. We’d form a pyramid with our finger tips. I would whisper of love and my dreams and fill the void in his empty heart. It’s true. That’s what I’d do, if I were a magical bird.
Listen sweet thing; I’m not very political
And it seems like you’re pretty basic
And simply enjoy the sun, too
And strawberries, ripe fruits,
Chocolate cake, smiling
Hugging and caressing
Laying on the beach, bare
Making love and enjoying life.
What else is life but a tasty quench from succulent fruits?
Sweet goods, sunlight, and warm weather
Wide embraces, soft kisses behind the ears
Short chats and easy laughs
What else is life but cooing talks
And sweet sweet touch
To not be with you
To not tear your skin open
To not devour your soul
While the clock ticks tick tock
You have a way of surprising me. Your show-stopping eyes… I swear that it’s still; it’s a painting. You’re a piece of some marvelous artwork. When I least expect it, you walk into the room and just glow
heaven’s pure white light.
The life in your face
The sun’s tender kisses on your skin. I didn’t know you could almost be my tone.
Who are you, who are we?
You have an uncanny ability
To leave me breathless.
That stark white collar against the back of your darkened neck. An unexpected bolt of lightning electrifies my heart. You look back for a split second, and stagger at my golden hue. I’m glad I could do it to you. Glad you could see it too. I always thought I could outshine you, but you out-did me boy. I’m stupefied. With those shimmering stubbles framed around your nape,
(Can I touch it?)
That look of utter demand you carry. Do you want me to say something?
Standing before me. Made of sleek, smoking ice
Making me burn
Dancing, at your feet.