Between ribcages, there’s a hollow
Of, once, where poetries were composed.
The numb hand has no words;
Every yesterdays become just blank papers.
The beauties in the eyes
Have no further meaning or hidden advice.
I should write a better love poetry
But the snatcher is not a reality.
It has no more heartfelt verses
In this unrecovered emptiness.

Original Taste of Love

The soft warm cooked rice
Or freshly baked homemade bread slice,
When you are around in simple days tastes like
The staple I need every morning and night.

The leftovers from too long holidays.
They’re so cold, I don’t know how to say.
Everything is dry, and dull, and all grey
Whenever you have to go away.

The meal with someone I dislike.
Even though, I know its high price,
It’s too hard to swallow every bite.
The taste is same as our angry fights.

And the hot soup in the day of cold weather
Is the purest form of pleasure.
When I look in your eyes, I sense your tender
Love and care, and something forever.

# Daily Prompt: Original


Falling In Love is a Self Breakthrough

Falling for someone is a self breakthrough.
Because countless questions start to
Raise in our minds, ponder for possibilities,
Twist our hearts with many imaginaries.
We then know how we react with pure happiness
And grief in case it ends with loneliness.
We think what we want to do to be better.
We learn how to be flexible or surrender
At the right moment to have a future,
To prolong the relationship nearest to forever.
It is a lesson everyone should have a chance,
With this feeling, to soar, to sink, to understand.
Because the deepest corner of our souls,
Only love could unfold.

Daily Prompt: Breakthrough