My wild flower I know you have thousands of thorns, but still I see your face in every petal and I love to plant you between the blank pages of my book. I'll keep you forever even you're not fragrant anymore.

I didn't know I am misery, until now. And for today, I wake up on the wrong side of me.

I avoid surfaces with reflections, avoid facing reality. At the sea, where I last washed away my scars only to have them appear in different places, different faces. And so I try comforting myself through imaginary conversations with the people I love. I wonder if in the end, salt calls the ocean home; and I guess that's why drowning has always been part of loving forevermore.

The sun tells me I'm alive, and that I have lived. But this is for the suicide of words I once wrote. I find something beautiful about it, and maybe even a bit lonely. I just hope it's calm under the waves of my oblivion. I hope to be the ache and solace you feel once you finish reading the book.

Tell me why you're alone -the wonderland is forever closed. This is for the hearts who never find their homes.