I got this feeling
that butterflies tickles me
and made me fly
without wings.

I got this feeling
that the wind kisses me gently
and I'm breathing smoothly
so now I will walk slowly.

I got this feeling
and I'm smiling
without doubt thinking
that I will restart.

I survive from the pain I've caused
but I'm thankful to be seize
with those memories
that I laugh with yours.

I know your past. And I can't get to think that maybe you'll change like when the typhoon ruin everything and turns into a beautiful disaster. But this was just part of something that I keep on holding on while we were together. I keep on believing that one day when I wake up holding you I wish there wasn't anyone holding you too. This idea hurts me deeper and deeper every night. I don't want you to be with anyone else  but you leave me no choice and even though it hurts, I have to end this chapter and move on.

Of all the things made on earth
Pen and Paper were perfectly match.
The pen that has too many colors
and while the paper has too many pages.

When you were at the peak of wanting to write poem
this two things meet like when you met him
it suits very much that you can able to write the perfect words
to describe your happiness.

But while you continuously writing
you never figure out
that the paper were starting to get out of pages
and then you stop.

You wanted to crumple that piece of paper
and just overflow the ink from within
but the pen describe you
and those pages are the moments you made together.

Maybe it's time to finish it
to open new pages to write poems
to breath and think of new words
and to write again.