You’re in every scent, can’t you feel it?

You’re in every sound

You’re in every line,

in every cry,

in every clou,

in every leaf,

in every road.

You’re everywhere, can’t you see it?

Even if you’re deaf and blind,

your heart knows the way around,

you mind as well.

Let your worries fly away,

you won’t be forgotten.

No, you won’t.

You’ve left a mark

even if time passes,

you’ll still be somewhere,

in the background of the scene.

How can you not be?

Life passes you by,

that’s what it does.

Just don’t rush it,

so you won’t pass it by.

Live it by the second

and worry not about being forgotten

even if everything rottens,

you’ll still be in every breeze

that the wind blows!

___________

Written on the 30th of June, 2010

1.00am

and deceiving.

I used to love how it smelled,

but it turned out that it had no smell.

It was only the smell of dust,

that rain attacked

when it reached the floor.

Let’s not walk under the rain.

Let’s not cry under the rain.

Let’s hold the umbrella steadily

and wait for it all to go away.

and it’s sinking in.

It’s getting familiar,

I’m growing used to it.

Reason has fled away,

it’s nowhere to be found.

Still the world goes round and round.

So strange,

I thought it cared.

But it doesn’t,

it only goes round and round.

Such a pity,

and a waste,

to believe in the world.

Distant, homeless

and away.

Yes, that’s me.

Tears sprang forward,

hot burning tears.

They made me feel better,

by making me feel worse.

I was then a master,

of hiding them,

of making no one notice them,

or even smell them,

but never a master of them,

neither of anything else.

But then,

I brushed them away,

to only double them.

But never did I utter a sniff,

nor a sigh.

The only sound that could be heard,

was the flowing river and the falling rain,

of tears coming from my eyes..

harden your grip.

Don’t be gentle,

squeeze my fingers.

I’m not asking much,

just hold my hand.

We will be apart,

for who knows how long.

But we will meet again,

for you to hold my hand.

You know that’s all I need.

You know how much it means.

Just reach out,

and hold me hand.

all the trouble she had, away, it melts.

To let it all out, honestly,

it was so hard.

Even more so,

not to -all at once-,

reveal all of her cards.

Doing so in a hurry,

for one fear,

one haunting fear,

for it all to, somehow,

be difficult to bear.

Almost finished,

feeling the urge to,

destroy the words,

kill the thoughts,

and murder the song.

Yet she fought the urge,

for a stronger urge surfaced,

to reveal everything, -on this earth-,

she faced.

Not without difficulty,

not without being treated falsely,

or even understood so.

Feeling so attached, from head to toe,

to her lyrics,

She kept them hidden,

so no one would know,

they were ever written.

or so we’ve been told..

Waves have one purpose,

they reach the shore,

and fade away,

because their purpose has been

fulfilled.

Even footprints do.

They indicate that you have been there,

whether on a desert or a beach.

The sand embraces your mark,

until the wind or water erases it.

Yet both are satisfied,

waves and those footprints,

because their mission has been accomplished.

But what is my purpose?

I need one,

to achieve or just for the sake of trying.

To know whether I’m capable or not.

To feel true joy or disappointment.

The smell lingers here…

It is true it’s too cliche,

but it’s there, the smell of fear.

Everything lingers now

without why or even a how.

It just does.

Even though it sucks

The warmth lingers too,

afraid it might not come back,

so it grips hard,

afraid still more of any crack,

that would compromise it’s hold.

What lingers more though

is every heart beat.

Trying to impress more and more..

The pulse clings to the heart.

It’s holding so tight,

so fiercely, it’s fighting..

Like a rose petal,

that is about to break apart,

from the rose itself,

the essence of its existence.

Yet so lovely without any pretences,

with just mild resistance.

and what might lie ahead in my way.

My dreams are different,

like everyone else’s.

A dream of mine,

is like a perfect song.

No part of it can go wrong,

and with each line, I sing along.

Another dream of mine,

is still young.

It’s like an un-read novel,

with each new page,

I discover many new things,

and with each new page I read,

a smile’s drawn on my face.

With each chapter,

it becomes more intricate,

yet more simple.

But I still haven’t reached the part

where the main characters meet.

And another dream is as neat,

like a shoe that perfectly fits my feet,

with its perfect heels.

Like a perfect word,

that goes straight to the soul

and heals.

So my dreams are perfect

with their flaws

and their effect on me

and their differences.

Like leaves,

that will some day leave their trees,

they’re all leaves but:

Some are covered with sand,

some are yellow out of season,

some are still on their trees,

and one inspired this mind.

And this mind realized that it doesn’t mind

mentioning the reason behind this poem.

My dreams seem vague,

and the vision is still blur,

because of the rain,

that fell and made me bloom with ideas.

I’m sure the clouds will

fade someday.

It’s already getting clearer with

each new day.

my teenager thoughts.

I’m willing to believe

in whatever’s true.

I’m willing to leave my pencil

and give out my words,

because they’re not mine.

They’re for everyone,

but the thoughts they express are mine.

I’m willing to forget.

I’m willing to hold my position.

I’m willing to write whatever I feel.

I’m willing to do that,

If God’s willing to allow me

to do all that.

However,

I’m unwilling to erase my scraps

I’m unwilling to follow any maps.

I’m unwilling to let go.

I’m unwilling to change a bit

that won’t help.

I’m unwilling to lose hope.

I’m not willing to do that.

No, I won’t do any of that.