There hasn't been a day
when my sleep
didn't wake up
in the middle of night

hushed and wept
stood firm
as if asking for debt.

For carrying the skin
like me and you
my nights have rose
for the soul you behold.

Once sailing, those
little dreams of mine
having met an iceberg
seem sunk now.

Rushing and leaving
looking down the hourglass,
thick and thin creases of
dark circles, the white vase

Once again i open my eyes
as the alarm rings to another day
how i wish the night doesn't sleep
there hasn't been a day.
-Keechu

-

December.

-

To heal is to play a guitar
with bareskin finger bones
oozing in red

wait, that seems
to not have a song
finishing midnight.

About love, that
began from the stars
t o d a y ;
falling off like tears
not down the window
you stand by

eyes that once filled up
with a glare, stand firm
cheeks that once were pink
of a touch, sit affirm

once sky,
nurturing you by hymn
I now am the classic sea
you won't survive.

HEALING / K♡

-

to the poem i am not

-

~ a stack of squared story in search,
with flowers in one hand
only to not find it's receiver by the end.

-

They say love's in the air
and so do i become alive again
with every bit of it
i let move in me?
because ~

Now often when butterflies
are all over my stomach
the lungs move up
and the heart moves aside
the love in me is silent as sea
breathing with every shore
that hits by : leaving,
with every wave that left
willingless to leave
had i loved living again.

-

As i backspace to write again,
there's a part of me who's
refusing to rewrite.
A part of me who reduced
to write, but neither knowing
the why to it.

As this year is a day closer
to becoming our last ~
the same part of me
took a seat back today
with the same backspace
unpressed, but the pen
finally oozing out :

little but ah, atleast i expressed.

-

my wrong timings to the right person.

-

the flowers on your grave will die after you one day, and so you got to live before them today.

-

YQ, the home.

-