A Series of Lovie-Dovie Facts of Life Poems

I

You can use life to love or not to love,
You can use the world to choose or not to choose,
If you see someone who believe in this,
Your lonely eyes
Will be filled with colours even rainbows cannot imagine.

II

All of the waiting,
Will freeze into a line of blankness;
All of the searching,
Will act out into a huge question mark;
And everyday as I walk along the street corners,
I would gather every single love story,
Take out a long, slim sewing scissors,
And gently cut off every single bitter end.

III

Love cannot
Change the fact that clouds are soft;
Love cannot
Change the fact that the wind is light;
Love cannot
Change the fact that life is bitter and sweet;
Loneliness is a kind of soft tissue I carry around,
Each one of them used to wipe the windows of my search for love.

IV

The reds on the roses
Is for women to dabble on;
The green on mint wine
Is for men to waste on;
The light on a skyscraper
Is for travellers to look down upon;
My loneliness
Is for the person I am waiting for to grab on.

V

Every loneliness
Has its own casual corners;
Every love
Has its own unique features;
Every woman
has her own elegant colours;
Every choice you can either choose it
Or leave it to today's wind, tomorrow's clouds and butterflies' wings.

VI

If stars fall down slowly,
I will reach out and catch them;
If love comes over slowly,
I will reach out and capture it.
If beauty and sadness are forever as one,
I would want them both;
At the end of every beautiful moment,
I will walk through sadness every step of the way.

VII

Love doesn't mean
A hundred pink carnations;
Love doesn't mean
A thousand invisible dreams.
Yesterday's promise has been blown by the wind,
So will you forget tomorrow's memories too?
I want to fly across the dark city's night sky
To see if other people's stories in the light are as melancholic.

VIII

They say:
The love of this city is fast and short;
They say:
The women of this century loves solitude best.
They predict:
When light finally abandoned the darkness,
Will the smell of clothes tire its shadow?
They conclude:
All of the stories to come will become soft and long.

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A Wish Come True (A Short Story)

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I've Learned...

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The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

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