"He picks you a big one

It withers in the sun

You notice that the flower is you"

-

Tears of honey welling up in your sunflower eyes.

Holding the dark clouds in the curtain of your wings.

Cascading honeysuckles in the pages of your petals.

For you keep those gradient skies deep down in those blue tinted eyes.

Sunset of joy in your tangerine lips.

Blushing clouds rushing in my mind.

You give me sun rays at the time where you smiled.

Flower crown of endless sakura.

For you are the of my eye.

Whenever our reveries

combine as the galaxy

of the underworld

and start a war of i love you's,

i'd drop each and every syllables

in my pursed lips, zipping it

and enveloping it in my lungs,

each breath of quasars,

a light of

my sorrow

passing thru the hollowness

of my ruined being.

Whenever your heart beats

say a sacred prayer,

i'd say 'amen' after the end

of your self-effacing lessons.

Eris' blurred out jaw

is a replica of yours,

a road to your

heart to mine,

street signs of

the golden apple,

how it shines

like the constellations

drawing a Picasso piece

in the blank, night sky.

Cause boy, you got me

mesmerized,

every time you cross

300,000 km/sec,

my heart acts like

a radar.

They say,

it takes 4.3 years

to cross from our solar

system to the nearest star.

This dim, silent hunger

of mine is waiting for your supernova,

for your pieces to be spread like the heavens

giving out mundane clouds.

You were the rays that always

visits me with its shine,

the helios i devoted for

has came in the package.

This caged venus nymph came

lingering in the tiny void of

my arms, i'd endure

it's hotness while i

look for your horoscope.

It is fun when you have the planet of love,

Aphrodite's blood-stained body,

covering her naked pieces

with a bath towel.

I can see the pulsars

hidden in the shelves of

the cosmic sky in

your eye,

just swirling

in the void of an iris.

Boy, you got me mesmerized,

cause you are the light

to my darkness,

each and every time

you give the moon

most of your shine,

then the remaining

pieces to mine.

Yet, You tasted

the flavor of

condemned

love, you

said it came

from the

heavens,

but in reality,

it was just

a playful

thunder

of words ,

saying

'I hate you',

translated into

'That's my

way of affection

towards

you.'

You can't pour from

an empty cup, can you?

The legal crime

i allowed

was letting

you having

power

over me.

If i were to plant

your blazing declines

before comfortable aches

until the wind tells

me to stop, if i

were to replicate

your utters

in my

sacred

prayers,

if i were to

usher the meteors

to come back

and bask my doorstep,

if i were to

find freedom in

your door gaps,

if i were to

bind your spells

with mine,

they say,

a problem

always has

a solution,

but what

if

the

solution

and the

problem

feels the same?

If you were

to say

'I would

die with you.'

then the opposite is

also true,

see how many

chances of fate

we have in just

a single dimension

of your

crestfallen eye?

If i can, i would,

i would make

myself the divine

earth you

wished for

out

of

broken

celestial bodies,

and tangled

stars.

Silence is

tragedy itself,

just disguised as

a useless gift.

Imagine

singing

a symphony

of hush,

my mouth

mimicking

your smile.

I let

you

make me

a bendable

plant, who

leaves a petrichor

smell in your shirt.

I let you

get all of the things

you want,

steal the diplomatic

stars' shine

so you can

use it

as an

improvised

flashlight,

you can gain

black holes and

use it on me,

to eat

my feelings

like chocolate,

to make the

reserved

room in

my heart disapear

so I don't have to clean

it anymore,

if you can, you can.

You can wait

till the smoke

become an

immortal and hungry

fire that

eats our house,

you can

let me burn,

i wouldn't mind

it painting me blue.

Just like a bee's

perspective, you

wouldn't explain

to a mosquito how

important honey is

than blood.

The contagious sky

made our memories

fade out; blur into

cruel portraits of our

exasperating joyfulness,

probably

because

of the aftertaste

your culpable tongue

endured:

a classy savory

of the forbidden

remains in the

jungle floors

of your heart.

Your culpable tongue,

is a back hole itself,

that is ready,

to eat my heart.