I search through the vast ocean of bodies, scanning through unfamiliar faces until finally I find the one I'm looking for. As our eyes lock, the world around me fades into nothing. Every colour bleeds away and all that's left, right in front of me, is her.

And the colours exist only for her.

One step, two steps. Closer and closer. My heart starts beating, pumping, pounding at the sight of her. Without a single motion, she paints a smile on my face, and she herself laughs.

The sound of her laughter purges the air of pestilence. It reverebates throughout my body, injecting so much colour into my blood stream that I experience a series of happiness, ecstscy and joy all at the same time.

Finally, she's in my arms.

The instant that she is, the world of grey collapsed onto itself, quickly followed by a stream of infinite colours emanating from our intertwined bodies, violently painting colours into everything around us.

Suddenly, silence.

Just the familiar scent of hers.
Just the familiar curve on her waist.
Just the familiar small of her back.
Just the familiar feel of her hands in mine.
Just the familiar pair of eyes looking back at me.

Everything, is complete.

Dear Mr. Poet Man,
How do you do that?
You make the most of everything
Even when there is nothing.
It confounds me so to see,
Mr. Poet Man,
The things my heart says to me in utmost secrecy
Written in your words.
How, Mr. Poet Man, do you constantly see
Beauty in all things, Even Death?
I need to know Mr. Poet Man,
How does one die beautifully?
Would I be beautiful to you then?

These road signs point to where you’d be
if you weren’t kneeled over in constant apology
you tell me sometimes you can hear
Aidan’s laughter at night,
as if someone’s strung them around
street lamps like fairy lights
your lungs collapse at the mention of his name
and your chest heaves with trembling shame
but you never told anyone else about the way
guilt straddles your shoulders every morning
as it leans towards his mother’s ears screaming
ears now turned deaf with grief

You tell me about the nights so dark
you can’t tell it apart from the hollow in your chest
most days you find it too hard to breathe
because the guilt hugs you so tight
it forces itself in your lungs
where these organs can’t contain
your feeling of sin
so you keel over and ***** by the road
where you last held Aidan

There are footprints in the mud
where he was last standing
but the imprints have hardened and Aidan has grown since
there was a much colder instance
when his sister flung a picture frame at you
so it shattered and you picked up a shard
to scratch out unforgivings in the mud by the road
where you watched your best friend die