"The Role of God"

Hello little angel,
come this way.
I have a man
who has killed,
but still
he should be saved.

Hello little devil,
come with me.
There's this boy
who's too pure
for anything
but tragedy.

Hey little cherub,
can you hear my thoughts?
I'd really like it
should these
two
fall in love.

Hey little reaper,
can you listen for a bit?
In my heart is
a person
who is
way past his prime.


--; April 9th, 2014

I wrote this because the thought of redemption was stuck in my head—mostly thanks to Dengeki Daisy (check it out; it's an awesome manga)—and I like believing in the idea that God is as unbiased as he can be when it comes to creating destinies for people.

"Far Too Long"

he held my hand
and gripped it
tight
as he placed
it over his cheek
to caress.
he said,
he said,
"it'll be okay"

So I held
his body
close to mine
as my fingers
ran through
his hair.
I said,
I said,
"it is okay."

his body shook
and his mind
collapsed
as I spoke
and I spoke,
saying again
and again,
holding his heart
to mine,
"it is enough
and
so are you."


--; April 09th, 2014

I wrote this for Traine who seems to have a problem with being honest. Because I know his feelings and I wish I could do more for him.

"You Are My Company"

The clock doesn’t strike

midnight,

     —at all.

It just ticks

     and ticks

until the hour

touches

twelve

     and ticks again

some more.

I lie in bed

and I wonder

about what thoughts

go through your

mind

when you cannot sleep,

and midnight has struck

      once or twice

      already.

Do you think

of me

with a dazing fog

of melodious words

that make you

fall in love?

Or do you

think

only of what

I say

and make everything

sound

so

screeching deafening

to

your ears?

I think of you

and what it’d be like

to have you

in my arms,

     —to be in your arms

to have you

hold me.

I love you.

My thoughts

of you

are my company

when I cannot sleep.

I’m quite sad

and restless,

in fact,

because I know

that you cannot

sleep

when you think

of me.

Though it may seem

flattering

to the ears,

given much thought,

it’s quite a depressing

story.

You cannot sleep

over the thoughts

you have of me.

I am your misery,

though I wish I

was your company.

--; December 11th, 2012

This is a story about the sad parts of love that every person has gone through. We go through these different stories but we all learn to feel the same things (kind of). We feel the insecurities that love brings from time to time, and this was meant to show that.

"The Failings of Love"

I lie in bed
and wonder
if I could become
your guilty pleasure
     your midnight bliss.
Because you have become mine.

I think of us
in the middle
of the night
when I can no longer sleep.
It has become
my comfort zone. 
You are my peace.

But because I cannot be yours,
I suffer.
I offer you
no tranquil thoughts.
I rage and I bicker. 
I leave all parts
of sanity
lying in the dust.

You are my calmness,
but I am your calamity.
We are as different
as day and night,
though we share the same sky
     the same earth.

You stay up and cry over me.
You dream of me in peace.
I stay up and smile over you.
I dream of you in pieces.

You are mine
and I am yours,
but we are not
each other’s.

--; December 11th, 2012
Love isn't perfect.

Beyond What Memories Were

Leaves were steadily falling off the trees as I sat down on a park bench. There were many moments like these: ones where I spent my day worrying over nothing. The leaves gracefully touched the ground, as if they were parachuting down.
My eyes watched as each of the leaves painted a picture of vibrant colors on the ground, leaving the tree that stood in front of my vision bereft of any joy the once green leaves used to provide.
For a moment, and just a moment only, I sat there and thought not a single thing. The moment was slow and sudden, and filled with many visions of beauty. Within a few moments afterward, I found myself longing for something else. Actually, it wasn’t something, rather, it was someone.
Her smiles lit up the sky like fireworks on the Fourth of July. She was the essence of joy, and I could only find myself gaping at her beauty every time I saw her. How do feelings carry on for this long and yet, seem to reach nowhere?
Is it normal to feel insignificant in comparison to her? To me, it’s always been as though her needs were worldly, and mine were miniscule. Perhaps I augment her value too much so, but someone as lovely as her surely deserves it.
I watched as the leaves continued to fall, leaving the tree eventually bare. I wondered about the possibilities of what would happen if the leaves had feelings, and the tree felt pain. Did the leaves put on a courageous, yet dour front in attempt to make the tree stray away from its stolid personality? If that was to be true, I wonder if the leaves ever loved the tree that gave them a place to call home.
I think that the tree is an opulent being for it was never fully alone. Winters came along and left snow to hang on its branches. When spring arrived, there were many little buds coming to settle in their new homes. As summer came, they were fully grown. As fall began to arrive, the leaves were getting ready to leave, creating the start of a cyclic journey with the tree.
There is another reason why I believe the tree to be rich. It was rich from memories. Sometimes, there will be people who engrave their memories onto the tree. When that happens, the tree becomes symbolic and already different from the rest.
I picked myself off the bench I sat on and walked towards the tree. I knew of who I was missing. I had missed her very much, but her imperfections were no longer something I could touch.
I am no longer able to see her crooked, but warm smile. I am no longer able to feel the coldness of her breath as she spoke soft whispers to my ear. Her unkempt hair is no longer something I could poke fun at anymore.
As my fingers traced over the tree, I found myself praying for something to turn up. It had been years since the memory was engraved, but I was praying for its existence. There was an augment in my happiness when I found my fingers warily tracing over an outline I felt familiar with. As I took a closer look, I found myself struggling to see the imprint left on the tree, but it still existed. The memory was still alive and an intimation of a melancholic nostalgia hit me.

❤❣❤

“This tree is ours,” she said to me.
“No. This tree belongs to the park,” I corrected.
“No! This tree is ours, Brent,” she reiterated.
“…okay, okay. This can be “our” tree,” I said with an amused smile.
Perhaps she had seen the look on my face, but for whatever reason it truly was, she suddenly held an expression of embarrassment.
“…what?” she asked in a shy mannerism. Her lips closed slowly to form a pouting expression on her face. In that moment, I had fallen in love with her. It was the way her confidence could be projected so openly, and yet be taken apart in moments of embarrassment so quickly. Her pinked cheeks made her seem irresistibly cute in my perspective.
I found myself reaching for her face, ready to pull her closer to me, so that I could kiss her. It was just a moment between us, and for that moment, she did nothing but look into my eyes as though she were a puppy-dog.
A bigger smile cracked on my face, and I shook my head as I told her, “nothing. Nothing at all.”
“I declare this tree to be ours, and with this tree, we will have fortitude when facing heavy burdens,” she told me. Her hand caressed the bark of the tree; almost as though she thought it were a human being in pain and in need of adoration.
“Isn’t that a little odd?” I asked her. My arms wrapped around her waist as my chin found a resting spot on her shoulder. She held onto my hands, and even though her back faced me and her eyes were directed on the tree, I swore I felt as though I was the only thought going through her mind.
“Maybe, but this tree will live a lot longer than us. It will be our memory,” she said to me.
“Would you like to make it official, then?” I asked her, enabling her.
“…what do you mean?” she asked, obviously confused.
“Close your eyes,” I told her with a wicked smile.
She gave me a doubtful look and asked, “are you going to run away?”
I rolled my eyes at her and said, “of course not. Where would I run off to?”
A soft melody filled the silent air as she laughed and closed her eyes.
Tentatively, I used a somewhat sharpened rock on the dirt ground in order to carve our initials in a heart on the tree bark. It took several outlines in order to make it look etched in, but I managed before she got tired of closing her eyes in silence.
“Brent. Can I open them now?” she complained like a little child.
I laughed and told her, “yes. You may open them now.”
I saw a twinkle in her eyes as she placed them on the heart now engraved onto the tree bark. Her fingers ran over it, slowly, and she eventually came to turn towards me.
With the tree as our witness, we shared our first kiss underneath its blooming flowers. A breeze flew by at that moment, and a sweet fragrance surrounded the both of us. When our lips eventually parted, we were greeted by the sight of petals dancing around us in the air.

❤❣❤

    My eyes caught a glimpse of other engravings on the same tree, and I felt my guise come apart. My calm and cool demeanor suddenly faded, and I was angry. These were memories that shouldn’t be made on our tree. Their existences adulterated the significance of our memory. I couldn’t stand that thought. Why did those other engravings exist? Why did they look so new and permanent, while ours looked as though it were being washed away in rain? It wasn’t fair. It was nowhere near fair.
    Why did it feel as though the tree was gibing at my heart and my memories? It was painful.
    I was near tears as I stood in front of the tree, hating its existence, until I recognized a scent. It was a sweet fragrance surrounding me, but I did not know why it had existed. The leaves were falling, and there were no flowers in bloom, yet I could smell it clearly.
    A soft melody was played to my ears as I saw a twinkle in the air and felt a cold touch on my lips.
    An echo of sound was made, telling me in the voice that I had longed to hear again, “this is our tree.”

--; September 16th, 2012
I wrote this for an English homework in junior year. I actually really like this story.
The title was based on the initials of the two characters' names. I like to be secretly symbolic like that. It's also to capture the feeling of the last section of the story.
(Spoiler alert: in case you didn't figure it out...yeah. She died. I killed her off. Sorry. Had to do it for the story.)

"Are you In Love?"

To be in love
is to let love
swallow you whole,
as if a sea
of the masses
doesn’t exist
and cannot save you—
for you are
indeed
drowning.

If love is the ocean,
let your voice
be my safety
net,
and let me
never leave
the waters
that attempt
to drown me
because your
kindness
keeps me
safe
and warm.

--; December 11th, 2012
This may have been inspired by the poem "Devotion" by Robert Frost. Maybe.
But, it came about when ask.fm asked the question "What does it feel like to be in love?" (or something like that).

"Stronger Than the Flames"

If my house burned down,
could I rest my heart
in your mind?
Would you be willing to
provide me with comfort
and protection--
let me know
that you are
my home
and you will never burn
away
like wood to fire
     never turn to ash
?

--; January 8th, 2014

I had something to say with this poem, but I decided against it. Maybe I'll edit this sometime later and add what I wanted to say.

"Love, Actually"

You give me commas
     and tell me to pause.
Say that everything
     I do
     goes a little too fast.
I need the pause,
          apparently.
To me, it's unfortunate
     but I suppose it's rather lucky
because you simply gave me commas,
     instead of ending it all
     with a period.

I give you semi-colons,
     and say that we're never meant to end.
But you think I'm an idiot
     for believing in such
          faithless things.
Is it wrong, though?
     I'd give you all my patience
     and all my love
     just for a moment
where you'd see all my semi-colons
     and wished I gave you more.


--; May 17th, 2013

This is a poem inspired by e.e. cummings's poem, "since feeling is first".
I read it in my sophomore year of high school when my English teacher was absent.
I didn't write this poem until over a year later when I was dating Traine. I think I wrote it because we had very different definitions of what love was supposed to be at the time, and it disappointed me.

"Sweet Innocence"

I pictured a high-spirited
girl
walking into
a cafe
with a boy by her side
who couldn’t get enough
of the way
that she enjoyed
coffee
black and sweet.

--; January 11th, 2014
I wanted to show the innocent side of love. That was all.
I wanted something bubbly. I wanted to show something that no one really sees unless they really observe.
This is what love is to me: it's all the actions we complete unconsciously, simply because we are loving the person whom we complete these actions for.
It's bewitching.

"Seven Colors"

You could have been
as invisible
as the sky.
No true color,
simply a reflection.

You could have been
of raindrops
of the clouds.
Clear and crystal,
simply radiant.

But you weren't.
Instead,
you were
mine.
And you were
brighter
than the clouds,
iridescent as
the sky.
    you were the rainbows

--; January 13th, 2014
Hey lovelies~
I wrote this poem with the idea of love in mind. I thought about the way love was and how blind it was--like, truly, truly blind. It was love that made nothing into everything and everything into nothing. It's a confusing sort of ordeal: love. But, I think everyone who has experienced love can say that the ones they love become everything close to unbelievable and absolutely wonderful.
I try to be unique when I come up with titles, and I really liked the concept of the rainbow (I think I came up with the title before even coming up with the last stanza!) So it was named "Seven Colors" and I think it is quite suiting :) You can make a lot with seven colors of the rainbow. A whole lot.

"Droughts"

I was waiting for your love to hit me

like warm rays of sunshine on a summer day.

How silly was I?

I was waiting for your love to hit me

even though I knew you could never give me light.

I knew—oh, I knew.

That didn’t stop me from hoping, though.

It is many summers later,

and I still wait for your love to hit me

like warm rays of sunshine after a long period of rain.

I’m a little silly,

that I know for sure,

but I cannot convince myself otherwise

to believe you were not worth waiting for.

--; August 7th, 2013

Do you remember that feeling of falling in love with someone whom you thought would never return your affections? Or at least, someone who would never return them in the right manner--the way you want them to.

It's the silly thing about love: how it just strikes with no regard to how you are or what you really want. You sort of love and that's the end of that. You can't force yourself to fall in love with someone, and if you have, I imagine it wasn't exactly carefree or fun. Of course things happen, like they always do. Love happens, like it always will. It'll strike when you don't expect it to, and it'll leave you with all these feelings you can't even begin to explain. You'll feel like a wreck and you'll feel like the luckiest person alive. All. At. The. Same. Time.

I wrote this a while back when my relationship was on the rocks. A lot of things had gone wrong and I didn't exactly know how to set them right, or what would make things right again. All I knew was that I spent over a year with him, and so much love couldn't just fade away with mistakes--no matter how big of a mistake they were. So, we spent the months following trying to work it all out. I wanted it to work, and though a lot of people thought it was sort of time to let go (even me, from time to time), we held on and tried to make the most of the mistakes and the time we had. Because, we still loved each other, and whatever shortcomings there were on either side, we were determined to work out. 

Love is sort of crazy and unbelievable. But, I've loved him for twenty months now, and I'd like to believe that I'll love him twenty years later and then some.