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Solomon Jan 2019
When you hug someone a little too hard,
They would suffocate.
  Jan 2019 Solomon
krm
Clothes have outgrown me many times over,
but this sadness never does.
One size.
fits all.
There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you.
Wishing these slits within my skin could have been
replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”

My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.

The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.

Death, being the only thing I desired.
But you, 
who I love,
endlessly-
robbed by it.
Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.

This world is not tender.

II. Sad.
I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,
knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.

split open my veins like a dimension
reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.


My family wondered,
can we make it through another day?
Death scares me for what it has taken,
yet, I’m not afraid to die-
it’s all I deserve.
So I await the day pain erupts
from my throat,
acknowledging the days a soul
lived inside of my body-
footprints that walked,
belonging to me.

But I learned so well.
How to suffer with a smile,
dreading the beating of my heart
how unfair—
I don’t want to take these deep breaths
You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead
Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.


III. Jokes played by the universe.
punchlines delivered,
how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?
How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,
and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?
How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-
of knowing people would thrive without me,
or the power of a belly laugh,
resembling a laugh track audience
drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
I wrote this in pink gel pen, maybe, that’s another joke.
Solomon Jan 2019
Those without a mind,
could harm you,
Those with a mind,
would do so too,
eventually.
  Jan 2019 Solomon
Alex B
Someone stole my color
And threw it to the wind
Scattered like ashes
I don’t know if I’ll ever find it

Someone stole my color
From the face I know so well
I saw it in the cotton candy clouds
And the teal ocean swell

Someone stole my color
I guess that’s where it went
The world looks so much brighter
Like something heaven-sent

Someone stole my color
And that’s what no one knows
Depression isn’t black
It’s the color of a rose

It’s the light orange in a sunset
And the yellow of a peach
Light blue, my favorite color
So simply out of reach

Purple like my favorite eyeshadow
No, lavender, I’d guess you’d say
And my favorite music artist
Although he has passed away

Someone stole my color
Now everything’s too bright
I suppose sometimes darkness
Isn’t the opposite of light

Someone stole my color
So I’ll wear grey and black
As if in mourning
Until I get it back
Solomon Jan 2019
You're not proud of having me,
Those who are wise could clearly see,
But a fool had this heart let me be,
Because I'm still yours, and you, you're free.

And I don't mean to write as though love is a prison,
Yet every second of this feels like a treason,
Againts the kingdom of my mind, my heart, and my soul,
All conquered, all within a Fall.

There is no love nor compassion,
In your sovereignty,
There is only a delusion,
and I, who had fail to see.

A beautiful lie so moving,
it kept this blind man going,
"You're mine",
as so I had chanted,
with my pride aligned,
to nothing it was bounded,
to nothing but reality,
because that's the only boundary,
to a dream.

Still, with you,
Maybe a fool is who I wish to be,
Because with you,
Hope might just be.

Although Hope is just a possibility
of a dream merging with reality,
like two bubbles some would succeed,
most, however, would burst as they meet,
Although Hope is just a possibility,
Although Hope is just a possibility,
How could I settle for less?
Written in 2 different time as I would categorise, 2 months not seeing her (she's also a girl that communicates less on social media) and days after we finally met. She gets me confuse, she made me doubt the journey but I still willingly walk the path she leads.
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