Dragonfly Dreams

So many times I’ve set this dream free
willing it to fly high and away
to perch upon the cherry tree branch
in the garden of someone more worthy.

Someone less timid
…someone less scared

Someone brash enough
to reach out and grab
that one thing
forever begging to be had

And yet,
time and again it returns to me
a shimmering hope
hovering
on dragonfly wings

Staring me down
daring me to try
just one more time
…and another after that
until the day I finally realize
some dreams are only meant
for the souls they are born to.

And no matter how well-meaning or responsible I might seem
when I ignore it
or try setting it free
it will always come home to perch in that tree
on the edge of that overgrown garden of dreams
I unwittingly nurture with tears.

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I want to be . . .

I don’t want to be

The name in your blocked list , and neither do I want to be a forgotten contact.

I don’t want to be a phase in your life, or your flavor of the month. I don’t want to be forgotten smudge of a handprint on your window pane.

I want to be

Dried lavenders you keep between the page of an old romatic classic, and I want to be the beautiful handwritten letters that you keep under your pillow, holding them close to your heart at night. I want to be the pearls from a broken necklace you’ve been treasuring for age, your wristwatch that you always wear on your right hand.

I want to be

Sweatshirt that carries your fragrance and be an old blanket that keep you warm on a cold winter night. I want to be reason behind your smiles, and I want to be your muse, be someone who you think about on your lonely night.

I want to be the girl in your story, which you will very fondly tell your children before their bedtime, under the starry night sky, a light smile playing on your lips while doing so.

(Artwork By unknow)

Love was my test

Before I knew what love was, I thought it was easy like when you love, you expect to be loved back. When you give, you expect to receive something back.

When you’re hurt love can easily comfort you. I thought love was my medicine when I was hurting deeply. I thought love was my ally when the world pounded me and bombarded me with painful wounds.

I was wrong, love was my test.

Love was my enemy, love was the measurement of how I really want to spend my life with somebody. Love was never my redemption, love was there even to the point of my execution. Love stood under my umbrella. Love held me when I was drowning in my insanity.

Love stood beside me when the heavy eyes of the world judged me. Love built a roof when problems rained on me. Love taught me to dance in the rain. And when I was able to stand up and be strong again, love fulfilled his duty and then left me.

#Thankyou

Strapless  (Rollercoaster #2)


It felt like being in a Rollercoaster with no seatbelt 

You just hold on to dear Life hoping it end wells 

Funny things it is never does.

You end up hurt and shattered like glass.

But all these times you’re thingking, why do I deserve this?

But honey, Life is Cruel and Blind, it doesn’t pick who it’s next victim is .

So just hold on to that strapless Rollercoaster for as long as you can,

And wait till the ride is finally ends.

Loneliness 

I know loneliness.
I know the smell of absence and the sound of laughter from the other side of the wall. The way you speak to yourself just to fill the lack of someone else. Anyone else. Anything else.
I know loneliness.
I sit at this coffee shop this morning watching the world. I actually like sitting at coffee shops by myself. The things you notice when you’re on your own, without anyone distracting you from the simple pleasure of noticing things. Like how the old man sitting across from me has been trying to scratch something that shouldn’t really be scratched in public – okay, that I file under things I wish I could un-notice. Like how the lady on the other side of the room just rather nervously re-touched her lipstick for what must have been the fifth time. She’s wearing what I’d consider a way too expensive piece of clothing. I scan the room and realize she’s alone, just like me, and it hits me that we’re not so different, that woman and I. I wonder what had happened that made noticing much less exciting to her, and now she’s seeking comfort in crimson lipstick and expensive dresses. I sit calmly in the corner with my coffee, cluttering my notebook with sketches and words while watching these people, before I make my way back to my hotel room to sleep and lose myself in another world, another dream, with no one beside me to draw me back to reality. 
I like the way I notice things and how I wouldn’t notice them if someone kept filling my mind with familiar conversations because I seek the unfamiliar. How small, ordinary routines can turn into beautiful memories. Like the way I spend every morning writing undistracted for an hour, just like how I’ve done in the last couple of years, but how a simple habit becomes something new and exciting just because you’re in a new place with unfamiliar people to watch and observe. In a coffee shop with strange cups and a new smell of their brew, and how I can simply sit in one place for hours and just be astonished, all my senses awake and sharp, and I smile even though I don’t realize, and some young man smiles back at me probably thinking the smile is for him but it’s really just because I’m simply content with my own state of excitement. Excitement for all these seemingly familiar routines, but for me, it’s all new. And how the simple habit of writing every night until I fall asleep becomes my safety, because that’s what I know, that’s what I do. But it’s still unfamiliar as entering a new land every single night because these poems, these letters, these memories transport me to different worlds where all things are possible.
And you ask why I enjoy my loneliness? Because loneliness doesn’t have to be empty if you learn to see the possibilities it brings. I have learned to look at loneliness as not an empty space but more like a blank canvass. A blank page free for you to fill. With stories, possibilities, excitement. Or the simple stillness of watching the sun rise over the horizon in silence each new morning. No one is telling me about familiar things. The world is, after all, only our perception of it.
So I’m not afraid of loneliness. It is my friend and faithful companion. And because it is teaching me. 
(Picture by unknown )

You and me


There are just edges that never fit,

It’ll only turn out as a tragedy.

When colors mix in the saddest way,

It produces an image of you and me.

When dead trees sprout in the middle of The freshest meadows;

And flowers wilt in the beginning of spring

And when fireflies loses their glow,

It reminds us of our things.

When clouds cry and never stop,

And stars fall in the form of shards,

When towers tumble from the tops,

It reminds me of our heart.

When lightening inhabits  every cloud,

And When words and laughter seem so foreign to us,

When we see to each other but no sound,

It’s reminds me how we faded to dust.

So every time,

When someone say the word of “TRAGEDY”

My mind can’t help but come back to the time, 

TO YOU AND ME.

My 2K followers thank you for all the supports đŸ˜˜

2K followers,  I can’t believe it.

Never have I dream to reach this far,

Someone tell me, am I dreaming? 

It seems was like it was only yesterday 

I wished open stars . . .

These blog meant the world to me,

I am so glad you took the time to read it.

Just by saying you love it make me so happy

It feels like i can finally breathe.

You are gift from wishing stars

A Miracle that’s come out of the blue

You are the reasons I got this far 

So from the bottom of my heart,

THANK YOU .