I've cried my share of tears
over you
and the moments that will probably never happen
ever
I've felt the last stitches
holding us together
breaking from the forces
pulling us apart
slowly
vividly
I've felt your lingering touch
as if scars, so permanent
as if gravity, so omnipotent
unless I move out of the orbital system
and it feels that I have
like a constellation yet unfathomed
a planet undiscovered
in the andromeda so near, so far
I've felt it all when I felt you
move
Felt it all when I didn't feel you anymore
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
To him, she was like the breeze;
Wild. Unruffled. But never constant
The strange kind. The piercing kind.
The kind that makes your eyes water.
The kind that tickles your skin like ice
Under the scorching heat
Relaxing. Dangerous. So vibrant
To her, he was all the four seasons,
Of the entire year;
Changing. Moody. Shifty. So dry. And oh-so lively.
And so beautiful. And yet so horribly terrible.
And they were a mistake they always made
And swear never to make again before they make it again.
Like a sin. So tempting to be made and so regretful when it's over.
Like an addiction. A promise not to indulge in again, before indulging in again.
He was a plethora of untold secrets under a blanket of stars
She was all the blues and greys of Nostalgia
They were a strange forbidden reminder of a never-forgotten past
A story revised but never concluded.
And the lesson never learned.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
*They say,
How come we match?*
When you're like fire
Burning, blazing, scorching,
Never knowing just when
To hold back and stay back.
Like fire, they say
Young, untamed, unpredictable
Stopping only once
You've burned everything down.
And I'm the water that turned
To snow as it fell;
Once beautiful and alive,
Now vulnerable and dry.
The snow that turned
To ice, they say;
Cold, lifeless, silent,
Bound to melt at the slightest
Change in temperature.
They say
That one day your embers will turn to flames
And those flames will change everything
They touch, to ashes
That will never come back to life again.
That one day my ice will turn back to water
And the water will taste
Like whiskey, that'll just burn
A thirsty throat.
And I say
True, we're different,
Complete opposites, maybe.
You're like roses in the wild;
Prone to looking better,
After the rain.
And I'm the thorn;
Prone to pricking
Everything that touches it.
But doesn't every rose need a thorn
To be complete?
Because I was the story that went unheard
And you were the voice that told it again,
I was the few words that went unspoken
And yours were the lips that spoke them again,
I was the wound that was just healing
And you were the tourniquet that stopped the bleeding.
So tell them
That I'll be the one to murk your fire,
Like you were the one to break my ice.
And let it all suffice.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
Her little toes splashed in the puddle
Her eyelids fluttered and she pursed her lips
She'd formed a smile, and it's all I remember now
It was just a walk in the rain, she was my clumsy cousin
Whose little stubby hand wrapped around my thumb
Was the only thing that kept her walking, but she
Was everyone's sunshine, now
Raindrops falling on that marble necklace of hers
Crashing, splashing...they bounced up and down, her brown curls
For she knew not how to stay still, even though she knew
Not how to stand straight
And she knew not what beauty was, skin deep
And she knew not what love was, betrayal
And she knew not what fear was, killing
It was like the chocolate on her tongue
And the whiskey on mine, for
While I'd been burned, she'd never seen the fire
While I'd been scarred, she'd never seen the blades
While I'd been scared, she'd never seen but the light
All she knew was that if she cries long enough, she
Will get what she wants...she got what she wanted, now
When she smiled, she was loved
When she cried, she was loved
When she laughed she was loved
When she shouted, she was loved
When she walked, she was loved
When she talked, she was loved
It's funny how age shatters
The innocence to these things
The memories of my childhood,
Burn deeper than ever now
But yesterday never becomes today,
Today just turns to, tomorrow
And I've become a bad memory
To my own self now.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC