Shiro-hana

He told me, "don't love too late 'cause life ends way too soon." I could only gaze at the stars and embed a sense of ignorance with silence. It was made up, artificial, an old reflex that called for the past, tugging them again and again to the point where those memories reappear as if brand new. Old habits die hard, unfortunately; now it is no more a token of salvation, but a blocking wall between two yearning hearts. The smoke from my tobacco ascends, swells up, and finally disperses into tiny invisible strands against the cold dark sky. Slowly all particles dissipate away and become one with the junk in space; together with the invisible

A deep lingering of bitter taste stays unfading in the brink of my reluctance; an endearment I've held too close and yet never possessed. Like the the gloomy mist that creates the fresh dew, he too will dissolve slowly to become an ephemeral shadow of my portrait. I could miss what I never had; two people regardless of status have hidden memories buried within. A pile, in my case, but as strangers we've remained. Affections were misunderstood, signals were misread, and astray has in the end these lights journeyed. Maybe little by little, these lips will soon forget the warmth they were used to savor and the bitter it is used to leave. Benea

Everything is quite dull; no tides involved in the course of the waves, except the uneven shoreline by the beach. Everything is monochromatic; no warmth beneath the pale feet long too tired to step closer to a better end of a journey. Everything is barren and mild; where excitement comes only from reminiscing as it is followed by the feeling of guilt and sigh as the after taste intertwined with a slight chafe to why those feet don't chase anymore for warmth. A cold gust of wind brushes over his shoulder; he shudders as he embraces himself tightly despite knowing it was quite a futile action. The pressure he longed for has forever diminished,