Dear Tears

I love to dream,

Gaze into the 5pm sky,or maybe six

And smile to myself.

I love to see Beyond my eyes,

And draw pictures in my mind,

Pictures of me and my ..

Maybe my friend, someone I just met,

Or someone I do not know

Let’s say the man I don’t know


I also love to tell myself stories,

About how the clouds fall in love with the sun deeply that when it sets,

They want to set with it,

And run off like two lovebirds,never to be seen again.

While I think of that,I brush my tongue over my front teeth ,

Silently hoping I’d bite myself

For the words I say, the words I’m going to say,

Will be so shameful.


I write about love like any other person,

I wish to do it with the most perfect words,

A beautiful reality and an expensive view,

But oh well…

Yes,I know I write how I feel like,some may not get it or me.

So I choose to feel shameful and

I will write about a man.


He is,


I like to call it that way,these other expressions are too common

He is truly something!

Ask me why?

The man I write about wears power like it’s a daily meal,

Feeds on visions and wastes no energy,

I mean no energy to this hasty world.


This man writes too!

How wonderful….

He writes of stars and a gazillion of other beauties of the universe

Funny enough,I love nature ..(if that will cut me through..haha)

He sings to himself like a little child when the sun sets and bids it with two words,


yes,that’s what he tells himself when the day ends.


This man lives in a world of his own,

That only the invited can dine at his wonders!

I mean the wonders by his eyes

He sees for them

For me too,at least…


This man breaks sticks so easily,

He does his work neatly,that’s what I mean

And I mean it when I say he is Something .


He is this,and that and this again

I cant play the right card but this man,


A fighter

For he’s fought of all my charms.


Shameful .

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