I like walking
and talking
with not much around—
the sun peacefully asleep,
all the world so quietly dead,
the wind bringing nothing but chill,
the only voices here
are yours and mine,
and I needn’t the
feel to impress you
with what words
I would carelessly say.
No need to worry if
I act odd and lame
for I’m not trying to please you
and win your affection,
I just feel like you’d give me
your whole attention
even if I do the dumbest things
one could ever do.
But even then,
so what if I don’t have
your best interest
and admiration all alone,
I don’t mind.

But I like the company of you,
making me feel like
I’m not gonna break
and crumple
and lose soul
once you leave and go
your own way without me;
it’s the magic of no promises and
new learned names—
nothing scathed so deeply yet;
nothing to lose should two brushed
souls suddenly part.
The law of impermanence
and the perfect ability
of adhering to it;
I’m such a great human being
for being able to ready myself
to all kinds of ending,
but once upon a time
I was a hopeless romantic too,
I’d love you the moment you
tell me you do,
I’d lock your words to my cage
of a mind
and seal it with my very heart
from time to time,
and I would think of getting rid of myself,
should you ever leave me clueless
and blue.
But this long walk and the comfort
I rarely feel but so easily find
whenever I am with you—
this subtle referencing to one
of my favorite movies
and how I think we would’ve
been the perfect lead two—
these are nothing to me now
for I greatly know,
the law of impermanence
and the feeling of impending doom

(and when you strayed from my pushing
I really thought of calling you to see if
maybe this time, love could do

but the words never really came through).