I’ve worn yarns around my fingers,
glistening from far away.
All its tightness make my hands tingle.
You gave them to me like an offering.
You’ve unwound them from your head.
We draw near, at times we grow far.
the friction of revolution rubs every strand.
We go around in poles, almost not meeting each other.
Still, we are wound together.
Oct 05, 2009, 09:40AM PDT | 3 cheers | 0 comments
I think I’ve been feeling too much these days. Also, having more quiet time makes me become more introspective and sensitive and thus I can write poetry again.
I’ve written two poems lately—about me being compared to the earth and our relationship compared to the ocean tides.
May 14, 2007, 08:11PM PDT | 1 cheer | 0 comments