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Week 7


You are in another town
Miles away
Surrounded by new people
In well pressed suits,
In which you look regal;
Embarking on a new journey,
Godspeed to you,
My love, Touchwood.

I am in the town you won’t be in,
On the rooftop
Surrounded by flowers
That my mother grew,
Scribbling violently
With a pen on a notebook
And sit by the door
As I think of you.

I wish it was your hands
That’s grazing the hair
On my face
Instead of the wind.
I wish
Instead of the sun
‘Twas your lips
Kissing my cheeks.

I wish you were here
So that I could tell you
How I feel about you
How you make me feel ignited,
Instead of scribbling it
Into paper and creating
Poems about my heart
That feels blighted.

I can see a bunch of
Yellow chrysanthemums
Which my mother planted
And watered start to bloom.
I’ll kill them
And preserve them,
So that on your birthday
I can send them to you.

No matter how much
My heart yearns for you
The truth is
You belong to another universe
That I cannot be a part of;
But I want to be a part
Of your life that I wish
Wasn’t so diverged.

I cannot say the things
That you can say,
I cannot do the things
That you can do.
Because I do not
Understand politics.
And I cannot
Ace interviews.

But I can tell you
How beautiful the pink euphorbia looks
As the sunlight
Is embracing her.
I can tell you how
Magnificent the sunflower looks
Staring at the sun and
On its leaf is a caterpillar.

I can tell you
How elegant
Are the poinsettias
Swaying in the wind.
And, oh look! how pretty
The cluster of bougainvillea is
As under the sun
They are dancing.

I cannot speak about
Duties or physics,
But I can tell you
About the little things:
How about stargazing?
And the stars and the moon?
In my wildest dreams,
One day I read my poems to you.

Your world and mine
Completely separated
No connection, because
There’s an ocean between us.
Because you are the majestic bird
Soaring in the air
And I, on the ground, are
The blades of grass.

You are the blazing sun
And I, the reflection
Of the crescent moon
On the pond.
You’d rather speak
And I’d rather write,
You’d rather confront
And I’d rather abscond.

I have always compared you
To heights because I like to
Stay close to the ground
So that it won’t hurt me when I fall
And I will fall
Because I’m starting to love you
When I really should’ve let you go…
Instead, I hold on to a hope so small.

No matter how high you soar
Or how low I dive,
There’s a sliver of hope inside me
That just won’t die.
Bewilderingly optimistic because
Despite living in separate worlds
We both live under
The same blue sky.

Aren’t we the same
At the end of the day?
Don’t you have a
Beating heart too? You do.
There are two hearts
In both our chests,
The only difference is
My heart belongs to you.

– B.