Like Debussy's arabesque we danced,
your feet too slow, and mine too fast,
in different times, yet
intertwined,
we cascaded like the notes
brushed by gentle fingers;

When my existence ends,
Do not hold me to earth.
Bury me within the stars;
Return me to which I came from.
Let me shake hands with those
who watch over the night
and dance to a song
Unheard by the living ear.
Here I will find my soul.
Here I will join immortals.

And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run,
A mist retreating from the morning sun,
A busy, bustling, still-repeated dream.
Its length? A minute’s pause, a moment’s thought.
And Happiness? A bubble on the stream,
That in the act of seizing shrinks to nought.

And what is Hope? The puffing gale of morn,
That of its charms divests the dewy lawn,
And robs each flow’ret of its gem—and dies;
A cobweb, hiding disappointment’s thorn,
Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise.

And what is Death? Is still the cause unfound?
That dark mysterious name of horrid sound?
A long and lingering sleep the weary crave.
And Peace? Where can its happiness abound?
Nowhere at all, save heaven and the grave.

Then what is Life? When stripped of its disguise,
A thing to be desired it cannot be;
Since everything that meets our foolish eyes
Gives proof sufficient of its vanity.
’Tis but a trial all must undergo,
To teach unthankful mortals how to prize
That happiness vain man’s denied to know,
Until he’s called to claim it in the skies.

I know we haven't talked in months, and i know you
think we are better off without each other, but i just
want you to know that i'm doing my best not to long
for your voice and your eyes, i'm trying hard not to miss
the sound of your voice and the curve of your smile, i
made sure to refrain myself from looking at our pictures
that are in the trash bin of my computer i haven't
permanently deleted yet, i keep on telling myself what
you have told me.

that we are better off with people who won't stumble and
crash at the first sign of uncertainty or push the other person
to leave because you know for yourself that you can't and
you really wouldn't. but instead i'm lying on cold white tiles
right now trying to imagine what it's like to be with you still.
I haven't been doing better.

The thing about a mind that wanders
Is that sometimes it'll wander to the graveyards
Buried in the back of your soul.
Or an abyss that contains nothing but the past.

Sometimes when I'm not careful
I lose my footing
And fall into that abyss,
But instead of hitting the bottom,
I fall deeper and deeper.

In a matter of seconds I am falling down an archive of my thoughts,
And in a matter of seconds,
I am reliving the moments I carried  with me all these years.

I open up the files,
And just like that,
I am there when she calls me "girly" and wants a "man" instead of me.
I am there when she tells me that she doesn't see me in her future.
I am there when she
left me on the dance floor.
I am there when I found out he held her hand and kissed her.
And more. . .
And more.

I am there.
Sitting on a bus I am there.
Sitting in my car I am there.

This doesn't happen often,
But when it does,
The darkness demands my attention,
And I am there.