“Art is the sound of a human dying to be an immortal artist.”

I’m the ocean swaying with the harmony of your moon.

Gift him flowers and watch him blushing like even fall.

You’re breathed all over the walls of my lungs and I don’t know how to breathe you out.

Your name landed on my lips like december snow and slept there forever like a baby.

You can always wear armor of your smile as a remedy for this world full of damaged souls.

Music is a weed, we all fallen souls are high on.

Ever since I met you, love wore the shade of your eyes.

When she’s drenched in agony and soaked in pain, her smile holds the art this world is dying to learn.

Unlike our flesh and bones, our souls always share a common religion. The religion of art.

Her aura was warm and I was a naive sunflower, leaning towards her.

You can see heaven or earth in her pupils when she’s smiling, and happy for real.

I hope my poem touches your soul and tickles your feet. As it is a river, river of my molten heartbeats.

Death is the mercy of life on us.

Let me be a poem freely hung in your diary. Like the moon, on the night sky.

Your eyes looking into mine, this is how two eclipses collide.

Darling, do not teach your stars to shine. Teach them how to embrace the darkness.