The Weird and the Wish in You

...an open letter to someone she longs...

As weird as a hole popping around the edges of a book,

Like a burnt circles of history that cannot be erased by hand,

I might get weirder each day you look at me in the eyes

Like a mushroom out of the wood in its monochromatic hue.

I might get weirder with every word that I could say

As weird as the bubbles sinking in the middle of a glass of wine.

I might dig down a hole to evade the sound of the world

Like as weird as I might be in the middle of a crowd.

You'll never understand who you are talking right now

With sense of a dumb circling around my mouth.

You'll never understand how my world works a bit in time

Because I might get weirder for the worst as you pass by.

I might get weirder like a vanquishing antique sword of death

Cutting the edges endlessly of each breathing swordsmen.

As you pass by without at least bumping a little smile,

I might get weirder again like a flying fish on the ground.

The world as we see and the colors and the rhythm

And the feelings we feel with every dance of my pen,

In its omnipotent way of turning it around like a magnificent wave

Made me weirder and more as I trespass the barrier of the unknown.

And with its bare simplicity of paleness and whiteness like it's always fading,

Fading constantly without fading truly on the sight of witheredness.

I merely swamp in frustration as the puzzle becomes a whole new puzzle

And the new puzzle becomes anew and it never stop like endlessly.

I might get weirder every time the season changed alterably

Like a lily on the river flowing against of the current.

I might probably get weirder and you'll lost the count,

The count how many times I shriek a yelp like a child.

But if you'll excuse me and take a grip of my hand,

I might follow the flow and start to dance like it's noon.

Because I like it when you're around, I love it fondly,

For I see you as a star shining glamorously in the night.

Would you remember and would never forget my name

Until forever ceased to come and its beyond run away?

Would you love to catch a leaf in the middle of spring

Until winter came by snatching the warmth of it?

And again I am wishing a sprinkling pixie dust

Tiptoeing discreetly amidst the stillness of its own calmness

In stealth like a shadow, I lip another wish of weirdness

Until each word of my sentence dies with its bare existence.

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