when words get strung together like music

What can we do
when the weight of the world crushes us
except to silently endure
till strong enough our shoulders become

words, that I cannot say
there’s just too much in the way
time, was not in our favour
yet we had moments to savour

a strange space, u’ve left behind
somehow we’ll always bind
love, is not what it is
a connection that’s difficult to miss

that look, I will never forget
previous lifetimes we must have met
Indefinite, a word that describes now
Of it remains a deep lull

like rainbows
reminiscent of beauty and love
in this universe filled with
gray skies and thunders

transcendent moments
without a hope of replication
strung together in our existence of
love and sheer wonder

a bridge drawn
between two broken hearts
you looked at me timelessly
I listened to you wordlessly

I preserve us
by leaving you

our bond was built on rainbows
you listened to my soul
saw me like no other
we bridged through the unspoken

yet what’s ethereal often do not reside
in this world ruled by physics and form
the existence of magic hovers on the unproven
we are bound because we do not belong

our moments real for they do not last
prolonging them will make them pass
I forget you are here
in an attempt to remember us

one second it takes to feel
how infinitely our bond runs deep
an end it is not destined
a beginning to be set free

it can only exist based on the premise it doesn’t exist

a skipped heartbeat here
a prolonged look there
is love less real
when it doesn’t last for more than a second

When I was little
they said I was lazy
so later I overcompensated
by working like crazy

I couldn’t sit still or stay long
we should just focus on one thing, they like to teach
so I mistook length for strength
forgetting that to leave, requires courage that can breach

I started writing a bunch
and they told me, write like Hemingway yours are too long
so I cut myself short
and forsook the depths of my form

You’re too idealistic, people constantly say to me
is it a fault to hold ideals in this merciless world
to believe we’re capable of intangibles like hope and love
or perhaps a stubborn capacity worthy of having

Was I just a sum of people’s perceptions
the bases of their expectations
could I make up my own story
and decipher my own meaning

I wish we would look at nature
where diversity is obviously essential
not only there can be mountains or trees
there’s an interconnected story to all beings

Why do we ask of people to be the same
when we are makers of our own narrative
there cannot be a carbon copy
because each of us are a million stories

Some of us grow deep roots
the others keep moving to seek new fruits
like the different edges of a puzzle piece
we are terrible at knowing we make up the same team

So these strings of words I dare write
neither and yet they belong to a poem or prose
for once it is clear to me
rules are just a made up show

staring into your eyes
I saw infinity
feeling our souls brush
against our destinies

how do we hold on when there
is no beginning and an end
how do I let go of
a hand I never had

but stories are ruthlessly binding
despite there was no now and then
how does one unfold the words
without the pages to bend

I will say the words you can’t say
listen to you when you don’t speak
write the story that wouldn’t exist
to express the love on behalf of you and me

I will point to the stars you can’t see
bring out the notes of the music you can’t sing
paint the pictures in your dream
all of this while there’s no you and me