Sleeping with the fishes memories with friends.
I’ve been down in the dumps ever since the day I drowned in the sea of lonesomeness.
Wearing my heavy shoes; pretending.
They didn’t see it because they don’t care about it.
They lost a train of thought to the Blueman who filled their cups.
To the Blueman who placed a rainbow in their dark town.
To the Blueman who made yellow memories and days for them.
But the Blueman was drowned and no one saved him at the sea of lonesomeness—he stood up with his own.
He just smiled while at the foreshore, carrying his heavy shoes; trying.
He was shouting but those ears are deaf.
But those FRIENDS of him? Laughing behind, they acted as if they were blind.
He thought then, those FRIENDS are walls of him—sharing his own life for them.
But those walls aren’t true—walls with ears and mouth; sight with words.
“ They will drag you down ”
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Inside his small blue room,
An empty room but has a piece of paper and ink—
Feelings through words, emotions through words; writing.
The faucet, silently running—comparing with his life.
He’s cross to bear; forever at the full of sadness.
Thinking himself over the moon; imagining, thought of its ambition.
He’s just a dog without a tail,
But the faucet is now, still running in its consciousness.
Scratch papers with its mistakes in the trash.
But he continues to write more and more, with his new neat papers and with its new dazzling ink.
I really like to stare at you as how I stare
at the moon;
I remember how we kissed under the moonlight.
I remember how beautiful you were—how pretty you smiled at me with those rosy and chubby cheeks of yours.
I remember how we wrote our story, with the pleasure of love and its joy; living at the paradise in our last moments.
Until one day the moon didn’t show up, as you did, suddenly left me.
You just left me and left nothing, but the memories came rushing back into my mind; emptiness.
Even If I didn’t touch you, didn’t hold you, hug you, and kiss you. My hopeless love is still waiting for you desperately.
No more moon on his town; full of sadness with its count.
My eyes with its salty tears are still staring at you at the far cry from away.
I asked myself sadly “Why did you left me?” as I looked up and stared at the moon.
For the first sun risen was,
All the things are nothing to us.
Until the moon count down for the last —
All the things are quintessential to us.
But we acted like we were blind,
Still our hearts are going to remind.
Sun was going down to your questions; excited.
All the senses were stopped; faded and you were rejected.
Many suns have passed away,
But the moon was last at the bay.
The coffee is now cold,
But the mug still at the top and hold.
The moon looks like lagoon,
Feelings are flying high inside the balloon.
Mr. Blueman was leaning on the wall,
Thinking and afraid to fall.