Discharged and Unrequited

You let me listen to your heartbeat,
but I didn’t hear my name.
You don’t like to listen to mine
because you know it’s not the same.
I have fallen for you,
but how can you rescue me

if you keep pretending I’m not here?
I daydream about us two, 
but how can these things come
to pass if you don’t draw me near?

Why do you call me ” my dear”?
Why do you even dare?
You make me believe our destination is near,
on this smooth path that leads nowhere.
Why do you look into my eyes?
And ask for more of my rice?
Why do you bend the knee if you
have no desire to make me your queen?

Why do you make me come
if you don’t want me to stay?
Why did you build me this home
in order to send me away?
My nipples get hard when I think of you;
you should have left me dead
if I’m not the one you want to wed.
I don’t know what to do;
how do I just let you go
if “us” grew long ago?

Why do you make me come
if you don’t want me to stay?
Why did you build me this home
in order to send me away?
I daydreamed a lot about us two;
you should have left me dead
if I’m not the one you want to wed.
I don’t know what to do;
how do I just let you go
if “us” grew long ago?

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The Present is the Past

“The present will not last,”
but what about the past?
The past never disappears at all,
let alone, really fast.
The present will last for a second;
but choose it wisely if you can-
what you do and where you stand,
the boats you leg with your hand.
Be mindful of the things you plan;
“the past” is what you began.
The present will end and last forever,
as soon as it becomes your past.

The Hands, the Vase and the Flower

If you ever think you were wrong,
you’re right.
If you ever think you did bad,
you’re doing good.
When you broke the flower vase,
you had to take care of your cuts,
but you have quickly forgotten
that my home was shattered too.

A dead flower needed her vase.
A dead flower would begin to decay soon.
A red flower died because of you.
A red flower died because she loved you.

 


You let someone hold you, and because of their carelessness, or because they’re just tired of how heavy you can be sometimes, or for “no” reason, they drop you. Your heart’s broken. Your vase is destroyed, shattered into many pieces that you can’t possibly put back together on your own.
They say “oh! I was cut! She’s in the wrong and I’m innocent.”
Well, what about the poor flower? What about this poor flower? You got cut. Yes. You got cut but I died. Sorry to you but adieu to me. I don’t bleed, I’m a flower, but I can get very badly hurt too.
Also, I’ve not been resting in perfect peace; I’ve not even been resting in one piece.

How Do You Feel?

How do you feel when you look at the
body that should have been your lover?
Does it make you sad that your lover is dead,
or are you grateful that the body is
alive for you to see at least?

We’ll Get Back to You= We’ll Get “Bark” to You

You’re very qualified,
but you’re not.

“Accepted resumes should be printed on White A4s”,
but you were born with Black ones.

Your experiences and skills are printed in White,
just like everyone else’s,
but that’s never enough.

They’ll get back to you,
but don’t bother to wait for the barks;
their backs are already turned at you,
they don’t really hire the “darks”.