Glasses; full or empty.

am not fully optimistic, nor
fully pessimistic.
i do have my shares of positivities
and negativites.

i don’t carry a bag full of good,
and beautiful thoughts, decorated with
sweet hopes.
nor do i carry any bag full
of horrible nightmares
which i had the last night.

sometimes, i don’t see the glass as half filled,
but half empty.
like my barren heart.
broken. shattered. perplexed.
no matter how much love and care
i shower, it ends up being a land with
no flower.
which always found itself covered
with the winter’s cold snow and the
autumn’s withered leaves.
which are of,
no use.
sometimes, i don’t appreciate my poems,
even if they are perfectly rhymed.
am that broken color
which can never become whole. and sometimes, like
that lost traveller who don’t know
his destination yet.
tired. hopeless. lost.
and on those days,
i keep failing to find hope. ever. again.

and sometimes, i see my glass as half filled.
filled with hopes, sunshines and love.
i dig soil in my garden,
where i sow seeds
of hopes.
and keep watering untill it become whole.
i appreciate my scars as stars. even in dark, they don’t ever forget to shine.
they bring hopes to my hopeless soul.
and on days like this,
i make lists of the things which brought my smile back then,
and the things which still makes my stomach feel butterflies.
from cries to hugs,
from conversations on text to calls.
from rereading the chats of my loved ones who stay far to meeting them in real.
and, on completing my checklists everyday,
i feel proud, as i survived another day.

and, on the other times,
i don’t notice anything.
if my glass is half filled or
half empty.
on days like this,
i stop and breathe.
and sometimes, i play
peek a boo, with my
suns and moons.
i close my eyes and take deep breaths.
and wait untill all my stars align,
and make constellations
of hopes and fears,
equally.