you're confusion.
a single word uttered from your poisonous lips
can create a wholeness so pure in my inner being,
yet also cave a hole into my awaiting soul.

you're chaos.
using your words as weapons,
fighting fire with passion and igniting a storm
that had long faded from my world.

you're the devil.
creating in me bitterness, a fallen angel—
and with every bruise your love left on my heart
I wonder if I left even a scratch on yours.

all it took was a single look- he fell for her.
angel eyes in clear blue skies, he only thought of her.

the sun created her dancing raven locks,
capturing life- tempting him to reach towards her.

the moon would rise, singing solitary melodies,
and in his inner strife, he only wished for her.

the stars could taint the lonely night
but their brilliance couldn't stain his love for her.

chrysanthemums reflected in her sancy diamond lies,
and for her sustenance, he picked bouquets for her.

her beauty shone like carved, clear stone,
and his heart was enveloped in a cold embrace from her.

and as he fell, a willing victim to the abyss,
he smiled, as if all his breath was hers.

I was eleven when I was told that I couldn’t be a butterfly.
that those pretty little wings of mine were defective, unwanted.
I didn’t need wings if they didn’t catch their eyes, they said.
the little girl of that day still lives with me now.

I was thirteen when I felt like I was sinking.
They didn’t notice how I was clawing, calling out to stay afloat;
my voice losing its strength as the water flooded into my breath, my bones—
and I realized that I didn’t need to breathe to survive.
the suffocation of that day still haunts me now.

I was fifteen when I first felt my heart ripped out of my chest.
My mind had become my enemy,
my words became weapons that cut a fragile bond—
and I realized that I didn’t need my heart to love.
the scars of that day still cover me now.

I was eighteen when my heart was touched by a hand so warm,
my breath given by a stream of life,
my wings were shown to me by a word of love
and life felt whole, enough to move on.

I’m nineteen now and still learning to use the wings I have lost
beginning to find meaning in life and not just survive,
feeling other hearts as mine slowly returns.

I still feel the little girl around my arm,
the water around my mouth
the claws around my heart
But now I have the voice I needed in my ears,
telling me that I will be fine.

I can be broken but still heal,
I can fight drowning with a voice,
I can hurt but still deserve love.

it's been some time since you've realized
green was just not for you.
yet we've been mixed together for so long,
you don’t know if you'd rather let me go.

we were beautiful, you and I.

but I've realized that I've always been blue
and your yellow was always just for you.
so just like this our green fades away-
but just as I am blue, I'll never forget you.

we sail ahead
with sweet words on our lips,
and roses blooming in our heart.
our love comes and goes with the waves—
never fully escaping our awaiting mouths, nor
slipping through our brushing fingertips.
we're full of fear of repercussions, yet
a passion threatening to crack our
oh so precious facade.
yet that night as you cross the undefinable line
reached for my hands
pressed your lips to mine.
and just like that,

call me yours.

created by Mortals, or simply
an act of the mind.
generated by intentions dark,
entered by the unaware and made to
shackle Monsters.

— they say I am an ice woman
     constantly dealing in the hearts of others
     but never giving my own away.
     I call myself a cautious woman
     but they say I never hesitate
     to break hearts as I go my own way.
     it is not that I wish to—
     I choose to keep myself at arm's length
     because I know they'll never stay.

my love.
folded behind dog-eared pages
you're a book I've yet to finish
yet before I've reached the ******—
I shelf you with a bookmark
that will never be revisited.

she was
carrying the strength of an eagle
a woman with the smile of a goddess.
she was
the embodiment of beauty
a woman with the voice of an angel.

yet— today.
eyes closed, standing alone.
there was something melancholy in her stature
something bittersweet in her smile—
somehow beautiful.

perhaps it was in that moment that I fell.

like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon
I raise my own tattered wings to the sky
cursing the inadequacies,
throwing away all doubts,
shedding my second skin of half-truths
thrown into my head
by words so keen on my own destruction.
by time that had stopped for three hundred days.
by a pen that seemed never ending,
inhibiting the thoughts within my head.

with a new smile in my eyes
I take a newfound strength in my arms,
lift up my wings
and bring myself into a new flight.

the whirring of the wheels
led his lazy look above
seeing the sun rest on closed lids
and her silver-painted hair creating
artistry on her shadowed shoulders.
the grudging halt of the bus
and those lashes fluttering open. looking away,
the image of her ebony ensemble
burning into his mind.
as he rolled away she would never notice how
he watched her as she slept.

the sun spilled upon her lashes,
her breaths long as she glanced above
by chance, catching wind of his russet hair
obscuring the view of his soft blue eyes.
unknown to him
she watched as he stepped his skateboard down,
noticed his worn black jeans
and colorful sneakers,
him rolling away
not knowing how he caught
the girl's starry eyes.

yellow and blue, together makes green.
safety, harmony, and all in-between.
yet an overmixing of two caused shadows so blue,
envy, jealousy, flowing through and through.

is fleeting, tender butterflies
and bashful smiles hidden
beneath wisps of hair.

as the final rays of sunlight disappear over the horizon
I look up to see my silhouette flush against the wall,
the dull colors accenting my lonesome shadow.
with eyes closed, I attempt to forget
how you intertwined my fingers with yours,
and how your breath danced against mine
under the low-dipping summer haze.
and with the same chapped lips
that uttered the words "goodbye"
you told me, gently,
"I love you."

and she emerges, her wings
taking shape into the spring of youth
a crimson butterfly painting with her blood
against your words of expectation.
she is
                 beautiful,       free.
deciding against the whims of men
so intent on criticizing her very nature.

and she becomes the sun, burning brightly with her blade.

art is created with the body.
limbs angling into shapes,
emotion permeating through skin.

art is sung with a brush.
single strokes staining a blank canvas,
delivering pain to an untouched body.

art is told with a pen.
letters creating worlds never having existed,
rays of sunlight born in darkened realms.

art is born in the mind.
the marriage of thoughts and
the tangling of physiques—
stories unable to be realized
through the sound of one's lips.

life is too short to dwell on times past
yet every waking moment is spent with regrets for
half-truths, almost-friends, near-misses
of you         and I        and him      and her.
of two souls that had collided, only to fade back into
unknowns. back to strangers.

him     her.
near misses.
never      seen.
past surfaces.
missing    found.
of what could have
been.

she ran until she could run no more
screamed until she could scream no more
fought until she could fight no more—
yet to save her it was never enough.

she was forged with iron, wrought of steel.
bourne of fire, taught never to feel.
she was the daughter of life, mistress to night—
grace brought of blood, fallen being of light.

she is beauty, insanity— and all in-between.

it's been over a year since I left. a year can be a long time, no?
it's been a year since we went our separate ways.
a year since those words.

"we won't be able to see each other much,
and I don't want to hold you back."

all I saw was you being afraid of commitment,
or you being afraid of potentially getting hurt while I moved ahead.
I wish the end was as simple as it was when we were together.
but you know you were a ****, right? you don't tell someone those words
right before she steps on stage.

but I ****** it up. pretended it was fine.
you know you shouldn't have shown up at my graduation too, right?
gave me too much of that **** hope right there.
all you did was stay for a few pictures, and we were right back to square one.
you and I. not together, but not not together.

we stopped talking when the school year started.
but boy were your words ever wrong.
we saw each other every week. every ******* week.
and we did stupid things, to try and one-up the other,
to show we were moving on.

but then you crossed the line.

out of everyone to date, my sister's best friend?
and after that fizzled out, you used her to talk to me again.
and we were back to square one. you and I. again.
and so to break the cycle, I just cut you off.
six months passed, just like that. it was a year since,
and I thought I was ready to move on.

until I showed up at a new job, some familiar faces but a fresh start.
that was, until I saw you there again. as my colleague.
for a year.

"we can't see each other as much anymore." *******.
it's year two, and I still can't get rid of you.

alone she sits
braving the intentions of the air and
the shadows within the starry night.
waiting for
the thoughts to pass her by
in the comfort of her own silence.

the broken thoughts of the past
shaped towards our own desires
true only to early remembrances
yet shying away from the truth.

there are times when I wonder
if there is a being that visits me in my dreams.
I awake with the dreadful feeling of lonely
yet my heart overflows
with the feeling of being loved.

the "you" I must let go of
breaks the "me" I once knew.
I'm catapulting forward
and you're afraid of being left behind.
with the inability to reach a reconciliation
and hold on to what remained—
we grow our separate ways
despite the urge to turn back.

she's watching the rain flow slowly down her windowsill.
she's hearing the pittering steps it makes on her shingles.

she's lost in the moment, her radio playing music
that washes her worries away.
she feels nothing, yet feels the weight of all her thoughts
circulating. like a cloud around her head.

clear thinking won't come today.

single drops of rain
remind me of what I've lost—
your touch, my bright eyes.

rage leaves your lips as chaotic silence
lost in the air, unheard of by my ears
you speak of mountains and harsh convergence
of thoughts. insults hitting, targeted spears.

just as the cunning serpent tempting Eve,
doubt burns through your mind, forgetting its roots
regret— that one has caused you to believe
poisonous lyrics, rising in upshoots.

emotion leaves hands how the lips could not
release cruel thoughts upon the decay
left-behind in the aftermath of rot
yet forbearance causes my mind to stay.

can I ever escape from your embrace?
untrusting love, causing my heart to race.

indulgence and bliss
two sides of the same coin and a wish
once listless
now released—
she hums.

there's no such thing as empty pages.
in a single sheet there are worlds
waiting to be discovered,
questions waiting to be answered
and people I wish that I could be.

late nights. sharing stories.
until day broke, keeping each other's secrets
dear, until I slowly drifted into a land
of unknown, far away for only days
yet our late nights, storytimes,
bonding over love lost and lost love
was so easily broken and you,
you said that I was only a villain.

time.
what is it really?
is it really just a ticking of a clock,
an indication of the day?
is it really just a reminder,
something to be taken for granted?
does it move ever too quickly,
or too slowly?

what is time?
is it a sound telling us
when to start,
when to end?

no.

time is all of these,
yet none of these
all at once.

time is ever-changing,
it moves,
breathes,
flows like the wind.

time is a boat,
taking us in for a ride,
floating on, ever slowly,
on the water called life.

time is a conductor of music,
telling us when to start, when to end,
when to move more quickly,
when to start again.

time is a rare diamond,
every second as precious
as a single star
in the night sky.

time brings change.
it shows us, ever so slowly,
how to live life,
how quickly to move,
how much we change
over such a short period of it.

time is essential,
without it, where would we be?
we wouldn’t change,
we wouldn’t age,
we wouldn’t move faster, slower—
we wouldn’t be pressured,
we wouldn’t really be living.

so what is time?
it is all,
yet also none of these,

all at once.

seeing you makes me wonder what we could have been
your bright eyes are angelic, piercing through my iron skin.
those moments make me question, if we could have worked
if only we tried harder. if only we were more open.
but then I wonder if what I'm missing is you,
or if I'm just missing the feeling.

with ebony feathers being ruffled with the wind,
he perched on his little ledge, a morning routine.
silently, observing moments of the day
sitting unnoticed to the beings crossing below.
with their busy tones and headphones,
their feet making quick steps, never stopping to think,

he wondered.

do they enjoy missing moments like these?
as he pitied the humans who never even noticed
the little shadows leading, dancing at their feet
and the disappearance of the crow,
leaving only three tracks on the wall.

it was flashes of light
rebounding off of the various mirrors
blinding me, and making me reach towards you.
you were a tall sunflower,
guiding me through the messy roads
mixing your bright pigment with my navy blue
and creating a safe harbour—
a world of colour I never knew.