Marariika

My world only knew black and white, but then, he came in grey. My skies only knew dark and bright, but then, he came in ray.

He's a shadow that lights me the ways A shade that helps me ablaze      That dim who leads me to flare      That gloom who teaches me to glare...

I fall in love with you,

like how 'Eureka' instills in Archimedes' head, like how an apple hits a brilliance out of Newton's idea, like how wise philosophy meets Socrates' vision, like how E = mc2 riddles in Einstein's intelligence, like how spacetime is entangled in Hawking's work, like how a waltz is performed over a Tchaikovsky's symphony, like how Elizabethan-English is spoken throughout Shakespeare's quotes, like how inspiration sips into every thinker's brain, like how feelings complement the mental state of a melancholy, like how words are formed in every poet's allegory, like how tunes are sung from every ballad's hum, like how a punchline strikes in a comedian's stand-up, like how caressing instinct is begun in every mother's cradle, like how a toddler learns to walk the first walk, like how an illiterate tries hard to read, like how an anti-psychotic kicks into the lunatic's excitement, like how a relief is felt by the anxious, like how a war is won by the outrageous chivalry, like how justice is made over an honest but corrupted court, like how crowds rest amongst the busiest of a city, like how sinful regrets creep into one's drunken mind, like how orgasm is eventually reached by a virgin, like how lust hides in the tide of every whore's blood, like how stolen things are collected by burglar's hands, like how crime is pleaded by every guilty criminal, like how plague spreads so contagiously, like how fuel burns before the take-off of a jetplane, like how the last ticking of a clock attached to a bomb sounds,

like you've already been growing in me in the first place ever since.

I fall in love with you, and I think I never want to get up.

The aftertaste of a kiss; she saw him shivered a little bit, breath taken like an exhaustion, eyes set on each other, and his palm grasped the back of her neck so gently, yet so strong. With a doubtful whisper full of reassurance, he told her,

"I think I love you".

But, there are unspoken words that only lingers in his mind:

"And it scares me".

—unspoken because her lips locked his words so softly agressive right after that.

Though unspoken, yet she still hears it... ...and it breaks her.

She's so pessimistic, he's overdonely so optimistic. While she's too focused on the downsides, he chooses to have faith on the unknown.

When he tried to make her sure of the unsure a little bit, certain about the uncertain a few, he finally saw the look of doubt on her overthinking face.

"Do you trust me?", he asked, politely, gently, strongly.

She was silent a bit. There was an answer she held:

'I want to. I want to trust you. Not that I don't now, not that I won't. I want to trust you like I don't have anything to worry about anymore. I want to trust you while putting my unresting mind down to shut the freak up—or, maybe, you can help me of it, by hugging me tight and tucking me in to your heat. I want to trust you like a little child who trusts that adults always know what they're doing. I want to trust you without really to try. I want to trust you... like I should.

But... I know that we don't even trust ourselves. Your own self is the last person you will ever believe in, isn't it?

Maybe, that's why we're not ready—yet. We both aren't.’

One of the worst crime ever done to someone is making them as our self-approval machine. Using their wings to fly, in needing of their hands to grab each dream we dream, using their legs to run from the things we avoid, and stating their mind to think of what we want ourselves to think about.

Insecurities aren't something to be fed off to someone. It's the worst of a jail ever created.

I'm a cold flame, while you're a very warm shiver;

You're a freezing summer, and I'm a boiling winter;

Together, our touch make a mess of our own temperature...

...as if our love could defy what universe has in nature.

When they found me,     I'm still a bucket full of false hopes,     a pond of blank paint and scrambling poets,     a mere glass of lonely nights and cold breeze,     a handful pain and some lost dreams.

When they found me, I still lose me.

Perhaps I should slap my own face Shake my brittle painstaking shoulders Wake my darkened eyes on rear-sight For the memory to rest upon fading conclusion— It’s difficult to make your guiding trace When time and space refuse to let go of the others And the reality seems blurred yet so right As if it hurts to reflect the oblivion.

The ticking second agrees to feel like a lifetime And the roaring distance refuse to deal with the measure How come forgetting becomes so sinful As though recalling begins to build its own cult?— Feels like yesterday when our deathbeds rhyme And to our cracking madness we destroy the very cure But for us now the unending void decides to look full We have made the bittersweet feels like an insult.

This fading reminiscence is burdensome to cope Where those assembling chase began to dissipate Our standing pitchforks now laying on the ground Letting all the governed doubt around us be won— ... Our counted days were built on scattered hope And our vivid dreams are ceased to disintegrate We’ve lost our way in the needs to be found Collapsed to pieces while we wish to be one.