Monday, September 14, 2020

Dear Diary

 Dear diary

I was at the solitary bench tonight,
I waited for him to come, but he didn't, 
and my heart broke again. 
Today I brought him flowers, 
my allergies acted up, 
but the flowers were for him;
so can you guess
what my heart and the flowers
have in common?
They both wilted when he didn't arrive. 
It must be rich to have a daughter 
whose heart keeps mending;
I remember when I used to wait
and he used to bring me candy. 
He promised me he would never leave me, 
he was supposed to greet me, dear diary, why
did he cancel our meeting, dear diary, why 
would he knowingly let his daughter be lonely, 
doesn't he know she might just drown in the sea?

Saturday, September 12, 2020

Do we get another chance

Plato said that each of us are a matching half
of another human whole;
that love makes us search for that half 
which completes our soul. 
Apparently, love is supposed to heal  
the wounds of human nature. 
Meaning that there is only one person
fit for another-
the notion of soulmates
is two unique and one-of-a-kind lego pieces 
that only complement each other, none else. 
 I always used to say that soulmates were like 
          the perfect lock and key, 
           but look, sometimes you lose the key, 
           so the locksmith makes you another one
         and it fits, just like that:
a brand new replacement. 
So what is it then? One for another?
Or do we get another chance at true love? 

Wednesday, August 19, 2020

To Live in Your Dreams

 In the middle of August, a storm of great strength comes, 

the wind whistles, the birds warn, yet the old man hums; 

Sat across his garden with trees bellowing, 

his face serene with its lines mellowing, 

he fears not a thing, not what the storm shall bring. 

Staring into the puddle of water beside, 

he sees the reflection of roses, and then his beautiful wife; 

And all in the world, the wind, the whirl, ceases to be seen, 

for the ghost love of his life is now more than just a dream. 

She smiles at him, waves run across her face from the rain, 

but she is just as he remembered, she hasn’t aged a day,

thunder cackles above him, winds blow faster, 

birds fly away even farther; 

but all in the world, the wind, the whirl, has ceased to be seen, 

so of what importance is reality, when you can live in your dreams?