Blue Poem or Note on a Plane

Everyone knows that poems
Are just bits and pieces of a broken
sentence that takes too long a second to form
Refuses to leave our mouth even when the words were already
hurting the tips of our tongues
We wouldn't have said it if we could help
But just like falling in love
We wouldn't have done that if we could help
I don't compose poems
Poems compose me
It comes to me like the old warmth of a lost lover
Always familiar, always beloved
But always bitter
I almost always write when I'm flying across oceans
or missing someone i shouldn't have
(So, once or twice a year)
But everytime, language hurts
Even the music in my stuffed ears, couldn't fight against the movement of thin air
surrounding me in a question mark
I don't have an answer
My eyes are heavy and there are always too many people in my space
To many voices inside my head
I don't have an escape; the airplane is closed
Language reaches its limits when the plane starts going down
I think of all the shades of blue that I have left behind, the clouds were keeping all the tears inside, the ocean turns darker inward,
If we have the eyes of the demons, water might have been black
And it would be fine
But we have the eyes of the children that have lost their naïveté
Always lost, and always scared
But never have enough faith to speak true love
from a heart that can forgive the pains
we caused each other
We have that of those
whose poems are most likely
the broken pieces of a heart that don't know love
Water and sky and music and poems
were always blue
Sept 10, 2015
Ảnh: Bãi Sao Phú Quốc