Mr. Who

He's a painting, almost,
a perfect imperfection, an abstract combination,
of all of my favorite colors,
each line tells a different story,
which meaning only those who are willing to learn can understand.
It takes more than a good closer look to see,
that every engraved flaws of unfortunate apathy,
marks how much of a delicate art he is.

Us Versus the Distance

The word "don't" was nothing but a mere whisper, and the thin line the endless sea makes was barely visible, faded by the growing ambition to conquer the world together, to own it like the pairs of comfortable Chucks on our feet.

"Where to start?" They asked.

"French fries at Mcdonald's!"

We won that night, and the next days could only lead to more victorious ones. Or so I thought.

"I miss us, guys."

It's no longer us versus the world now, looks like distance is a way tougher opponent.

"Guys?"

Whisked Me Away, Enthused

The universe seemed to have such an unfair conspiracy with him that night; the grey clouds suddenly decided to gather out of nowhere, trying to act all heroic for crying the tears she couldn't let out just yet as the wind breathed out an inaudible sad song, failed to whisk her pain away.