By : Nabs

At dusk, I woke up to find that my whole body alight with pain
From the very tip of my hair
To the very tip of my toe
A pain that struck me deep as it is rooted in me

My head feels like it is not my own
Where my thought are filled with images
Where they took every single memories
Just to replay it over and over again

Although it is some specific memories that they play

( I should have known it was you)

They are images of you
Either the way your eyes disperse the light
Glinting with rainbows as you laugh
Or the tingling of your voice when you speak

Or the little quirks that you have
How you scratch your head when you're confused
Or how you tighten your fist and hold it close to you when you are in anger
Or how you look pained every time someone mention your father

Even my subconsciousness was not safe from you
How in the nights you seep into my dream
And how my mind seem to speak your name with reverence
As if you are a saint and i am a sinner begging for forgiveness

Not to mention
My head feels like it know you more that I know my self
How my consciousness remember every single way your body move
How you react
How you never seem to notice how breath taking you are

You do take my breath away, you know
You make lungs constrict
My throat sore and my windpipes clogs
My chest ache

Just from seeing you brush a stray strand out of your face

( No wonder I always choke)

I know now that you are poisonous
Because often you made my mind sluggish
How you made my tongue numb
Struggling to just say something

I feel like I could die from just being in your presence

Some how, I wouldn't mind that

You seem to have taken over the control
Of the beating of my heart
It is not mine anymore
You took it from me

And i'll let you do it any day

How do I not realize that you poison me?
That you attacked me

No

I couldn't say attack when I, my self are a part of perpetrating the crime

I let you poison me with your kindness
And I succumb to it
Kindness is very lethal I find
Very potent

You are causing an infection
Spreading across my heart
Making it rot
The stench is cloyingly sweet with a hint of pain

I think I know what poisoned me

You make my heart a bruised little thing
Banging across my rib cage
Sometimes I can feel it to thump so hard
I wonder if there are fractures littering my ribs

It is a miracle I do not get a stroke
With the way my hearth clenches
Every so often just by a single word you said
No matter how un important it is

There is something growing inside my body and I know I am diseased

I'm going to be erratic soon, at the rate this is spreading

The rate this is spreading

Why

I know you planted some seeds inside of me
And how it is growing in my body
The pain is caused by them
How it is thriving alive, and ******* me dry

******* life out of my marrows
Making me prone to bend and break
To bend and beg
For you, I would do it in a heart beat

Why do you do this to me?

You do not intend this for me
As I do not intend to succumb in the first place
But intentions will always be intentions
If we do not manage to realize it

One of my symptoms is butterflies in my stomach
How did the caterpillars get in there?
How did my stomach turned into their cocoon?
It does not feel beautiful, the butterflies in the making

They feel like acid and agitation

Now I am trembling

You make my whole body quake
My bone to ache and shake
It is as if you made them corrode,
Maybe that's why my knees shake just because of you

How it will always tremble
How you make my hands tremors
How psychosomatic it is
And I seemed to caught this sickness right to the bone

Maybe I tremble because you are more than I can handle

You with your kindness
Your attempt to become normal
Your fear of closed space
And how you would unconsciously scratch the silvering wound across your heart

Maybe because yours do not rot, you infected me and rotted mine instead

( There is something wrong with my eyes)

As i said, not only that you have took over my heart you also took over my mind

I seemed to still do not mind

My whole body is trembling
My lips quivering
I feel my eyes are watering
I feel my temperature rising

I feel horrible and yet I do not mind this pain
This high fever I am in
Comfort me some how, even if i know that
if I do not get well soon this might **** me

If I do not get it treated, it will **** me

But I am still hesitant to cure it
I do not want to be diagnosed
I do not want to
I do not want to

I am infected

(There's something trying to get out of my stomach)

I am trembling again
And you saw me trembling
You saw me
You smiled, and a snip could be heard

There are a string broken and it might me my sanity

Why do you deny that there was an earthquake
Why do you always deny that
Why
Why

Why do i still got close to you despite knowing
That the episentrum was you

You are a natural disaster
An epidemic
Spreading disease in your wake
You couldnt help it

No one could help being them self

You know I feel pain all over my body
But sometimes the pain felt so intense
That it renders me numb
How do I still exist in this paradoxes of mine

( I fear my liver have stop trying to purge this toxic away)

You make all my nerve go alight
I feel like i am burning
Ashes, ashes is what left of me
I have nothing left of me

You burned me down

But why do i feel so cold?

Yet, I do not mind
Because even as my heart is aching and in pain
Even if my whole body is black and blue
My body is not mine anymore

That was your betrayal, wasnt it?

(At least i still could bask in your presence)
You made me betray my self
(Such exquisite pain you cause me, i want more)
Why do you keep smiling as if you know nothing?

Maybe you do not know anything

(My legs just gave out and I am on my knees)

The poison is muddling my mind
I am poisoned
I already said that
I am trembling again

The butterflies got out of their cocoon today.

They were beautiful, and red with my blood

I still do not mind

You betray me
You causes pain to me
You poisoned me

I still do not mind

You smiled again today
It was like my medicine
I feel like i am addicted
You smile like you were happy with the way i am

I fumble with words now
There is something wrong with my eye
I cannot see clearly
Everything is blurry and tinted

(You said my eyes were beautiful)

I was happy but now I am sick

Why

My legs and hand do not properly work anymore
I feel like someone just pierce giant big hooks in them
Because i keep being pulled
I keep going back to you

My body is not my own, it is infected

You poison me and then you put parasites didn't you?
I was fine
Did you think your poison was a cure?
I did not have anything wrong with me

I did not
Now i do

( I can feel my mind crashing down, it feels like freedom)

The fever is going up again
My words are hazy
My arms taste sweet
I feel disoriented

Why do you need my to be like this?
Wipe that smile of yours
Wipe it
Please

(Please)

I am addicted to you
Your whole presence
I do not mind
What do i not mind?

I am sick, i am going crazy
You drive me crazy
You infected me and you rot me
I still do not mind

(There are tears dripping down my eyes, it is black)

I do not mind

(My heart just gave out)

I just diagnosed my self today

There is a paper thin difference between hate and love

I think it is the latter

I am such a liar

By Nabs
Dear, My Past Self
I've always wanted to say a lot of things to you.
A lot of things that I would like you to change.
A lot of things I wished that you haven't done
(Like chanting hate to your self before you went to sleep).

But that is not the reason I am sending this letter.

We both know how the past cannot be changed, the same way we both know that girls will be girls and boys will be boys (which to say not at all, after all we are a firm believer that time travel and The Doctor exist).

I know that you are going through a lot of forked roads, right now.
Gnawing your lips and making it bleed, from worrying whether to choose right or left?
Afraid, not to take the wrong road but to take the road that you want, the third road that you've always thought off but haven't gathered enough courage to step to.
It's okay to be afraid of where will you get stranded in life. Being afraid doesn't make you weak.

But at the end we have to move forwards even if it will literally kills you to leave the breathtaking view behind.

At this point in your life, You will realize that the handful of people that you surround your self with are more of an aquantaince than friends. And you will lose some of the friends you have because of the directions you each choose to go. You will feel lonely and miserable.

A deceptive man called depression will lull you with the promise of kindred spirits and ask you to let him be your companion. You will accept this offer, not fully knowing the Concequences because Depression, in your neighborhood, is something that goes unacknowledged.

You will regret the decision of taking his hands
(He's a good friend of mine now, I know how to deal with his quirks and how to cope with him living in my home. He still ask me to join him in drowning, but I learned how to say no)

    There will also be a lot of people telling you that you are a freak. They will consider that being true to yourself is a sin and you will try to repent by torturing your self with soul leeching mask that will leave you identity in tattered remains (You will spent years trying to piece it back, taking new pieces and discarding old ones).

They will also paint names on your back, whispers lies and making a game on how much they can stab you in one day. (You always come home bleeding, but you covered it with 1000 watt smile and perfume to mask that fact that the wounds are rotting)

Do not try revenge, it will leave you with a guilt so heavy that the act it self would only taste like ashes and sour your heart. (I know how horrible that is, and I know you'll still do it because this letter isn't about changing the past)

Remember that you have an untapped core of titanium in your backbone.

I know you will spend some sleepless night thinking of ways to not wake up in the morning, how to keep dreaming, and letting the ghost take you away. I know how close you are to the temptation and how you almost bitten that forbidden fruit because you wonder if it taste like peace. I also know that you will deny yourself.

(Because that's the lesson that was taught to us since the beginning )

Society may tell you, to **** all the things that are different in you. The things that make you see a shade differently, the things that make your angle on the world askew, the thing that you were (and still is) proud of. You will ask why, and they will reply because you are not perfect.

Do not listen to them because a few months from now you'll learn that their reasons are poison and you had been fed spoiled milk all along.
(You'll get some stomach ache that will feel like butterfly wings, you will mistake it for infatuation. It's not. You'll learn that infatuations taste like sugar and the coffee that you'll grow to like)

At this point, You will also painstakingly build a shrine, made of ivory and desperation, for the one you mistaken as a saint (she's not but she's still one of the best things that happen to you). A shrine for a saint that you tried to be, a saint that was hailed from loneliness and envy.  

The shrine will be the invisible wall that you will simultaneously try to tear apart while build it everyday. You will always be the one who ask for forgiveness because you were a faithful believer who believe that you are a despicable sinner.

(You are as much as a sinner as she is a saint.)

The day that you look her in the eyes and burn the shrine, the wall will crumble and fall like the Berlin Wall. Both of you will become human ( Also you will find that she is easily bribed with pizza and you will find that you are different than her and that's ok).

You will also learn the taste of despair from the way the mother dove cannot understand that your screams are the way you say that you are breaking and you just want to quit breathing. Instead mother dove will translate it into screams of rebellion, and you were always the obedient daughter first, than you are a teenage girl.

(You will learn how to jab your scream into paper, and turn them into poems. You will truly make some bad ones at first. Don't worry I'll help you along the way)

One day, between where you are now and where I am now, the world will give you a present of awareness to the danger of smiling to strangers. You will cry in the hotel bathroom and try to scrub your skin until it bleeds, trying to feel clean but only managed to ***** the tub. The world and mother dove will tell you that its your fault and you were asking for it (You're not).

You will lose the ability to smile uncaringly.
(This is one of the things I wish we would have keep)

You will slowly watch the colors that you know fade from the world, leaving it a mottled grey. The same state that you are feeling now. You will paint lies and invent new colors to just make you believe that there is something worth living for. You will hate your self more and more for your new painting skills.

Don't hate your self, You are a survivor and you are still fighting (I know you wouldn't listen to this, that you would keep hating your self until you met some people who will be kind to you and help you hold up your forts from the monster inside your skin. Like I said this isn't that kind of letter).

I know that the day you smashed all your anger and hurt into the table that you sleep on, was the day where you first tried to draw red lines with sharp markers on yourself. It will be messy but you were addicted and soon all you can paint was release and the occasional victorian girl

(You will not draw boys because you despise the way that you cannot draw wide board shoulders, like the one you hate on your self but admire on your brothers because those shoulders look like they could carry the world unlike yours).

You will lock your emotions tight, and learn how to hide from the world (It wouldn't last long, you have the universe inside you that is screaming to be shared to people. You haven't learned how to say no yet, unlike me)

You will learn that you are also an idiot, that karma exist and it bites you in the *** as a payback for all those tyranny. You will laugh your self until you're sobbing and fallen asleep. The next day you will bring a book to educate yourself to your school.

You will be turned into a mess of paint, anger, bitterness, and dramatic flair. The only one that will be left without blemish will be the mask (not the face beneath). The woodcutters will saw your legs of from you, and you will be left without the means to stand on the ground

But you still will crawl your miserable 90 kilogram mass of body to the next crossroad, and the next, and the next, and the next, like the stubborn mule you (we) are.

And you will came out of the personal purgatory, that the world gave you, with a brand new legs, soul liberally littered with scars, and a tuft wings on your back (Albeit still very tiny. It's okay, It's still growing).

You will learn to walk again with your new legs, the one that isn't smooth like baby skin but full with callouses from all the road walking.

You will learn that being full of flaws is ok, that not being beautiful is fine.

You will also learn that you are allergic to cats (You will deny this fact when you find out until you almost passed out because you couldn't breathe. But we will still cuddle with them because cats are the best)

You will meet new people, wonderful new people. The ones that you care so very much and the one that cares for you back. The ones that's just wonky like you. (You will love this guy and girl that I am close with, they're very kind and sappy like you are)

You will get to fall in love, like in the romance manga that you secretly love, and you will broke your own heart (I wanted to say for you to savor it more, but like I said this isn't that kind of letter).

You will be ok with it, and you'll gain the skills of cutting people from your life

You will learn that the world isn't kind to your gender, and you'll ask for equality ( the same way you're asking for a new set of paint, which is to say with a lot of care and thinking). You will learn that the world will always be a ******* but there will always be change.

(The world needs its balance)
You will learn that patience isn't really your virtue. But you will learn to grit your teeth and wait.

You will learn to love your self. Even at some point the hate still managed to rear its ugly head. You will learn to be proud of your self and yet still be kind.

And you will continue to write your own story, you will make mistakes and learn from them, you will make unexpected plot twist and pull your favorite cliche. You will learn that not all people like your story and that it's okay.

That is so very okay.

This letter isn't about telling you to change yourself.

It's my way of saying thank you.

Because darling, ****** well done (pun intended)
                                    Love, Your Future Self

P.S :
(This isn't the end, how about we meet up for tea later?)

By Nabs

07.00 AM :
I rubbed my eyes, blearily heading to the bathroom. Nightmare haunting my steps, as if it doesn't want to let me go.

Waking up was less dreadful than getting ready.

07.03 AM :
Turning the water knobs, was like an exorcism.
More aware, more awake, yet the blankness was still there. I wonder If today's the day.

The shower was cold as always.

I went out to fetch the towel, I never once looked at the mirror.

9.30 AM :
The first period was literature.
We're learning about the classic fairy tales. The teacher asked us for questions.

' Why does stories only tell about the fairest of them all?"

I managed to seal the questions back to where in belong.

9.55 AM :
The girl next to me received a crumpled paper ball.
She's very kind, and have the sweetest dimples.
As she reads, I can see her self esteem crumpling up, not unlike a paper ball.
I hugged her.
She asked, with hollowed voice, If I wanted to know what was written on it.

I shook my head, I already know what it is.
It's the same word, that still echoes in my world.

'FAT ***', was written on the paper.

12.30 PM :
Lunch was always a tiring affair.
Noisy chatters and baleful glare.
Distaste at how the line seems to never end.
Counting calories to pass the time.

Glancing at my wrist, deciding what food to eat based on the way my hands circle my wrist.

12. 34 PM :
Navigating cafeteria was even worse.
It's like avoiding the poisonous full course, that an assassin serve at you.
Bullying as a side dish, teenage drama as the main course, illusion of escape as the dessert.
The hustle and bustle of school life.

You are bound to accidentally consume that poisonous ****.

12.45 PM :
After I finished eating mashed potato and green beans, some hyenas approached me.
They clawed pleasantries and congratulated me.

"What for?"

"You are thin now! That's like so awesome! "

"But--"

"Also a friendly advice, I'd watch out for that mashed potatoes! Thinking about all that calories make me shudder!"

They walked away with a bounce on their feet, and howls so loud that all the others are staring at them curiously.
I am left bleeding out and nauseous at the encounter.

I clutched my stomach, feeling claustrophobic.

Desperately, trying to banish the thought of emptying my self.

12.59 PM :
The sound of flushing, hits my ear.
Shame crashed against me with doubled force.

I heave again. Body trembling.

The bell rang.

14.00 PM :
It's the last period for the day.
It was health class, and the teacher are telling us about the importance of food. That denying your self sustenance was equal to slowly killing yourself.
He looked at me, I pretend to not see.

Last week, a senior died of anorexia.
His body was too used of rejecting food that he couldn't accept their proposal again.
His stomach balked at the thought of getting back again.
He said goodbye to the world after 7 days of divorce.
The funeral was a messy affair.

I knew him.

15.00 PM :
I opened my locker,
Head spinning from all the people that approached me today.

They were people I barely know.
Congratulating me on losing my weight. Said I was prettier. Said I look good like this. Said I should keep being this way.
Asking me, what's the secret?

They all asked with a saccharine sweet smile on their face, as if it is a good thing.

As if being sick, is a success.

I wonder if they will still call me pretty when they see the bite marks on my knuckle.

15.20 PM :
On the way home I saw a burger joint,
my stomach was clawing for food but my mouth tasted like acid.

I wonder if drinking water will be enough to quench my hunger.

15.25 PM :
I passed a water puddle.

I saw a gaunt faced girl, with a pale complexion.
Her used to be lush hair turned lanky.
Her lips were literred with cuts and bite marks,  her eyes had faint purplish circle.
She looks so different from the person I used to know.

I continued my walk, trying to ignore the emptiness that had stayed in my bones.

16.30 PM :
My mother went into my room, when I was lying in my bed, counting my ribcage.
She looked at me, and a pained look crossed her face. I can see that she's holding back her tears.

She hugged me gently, as if afraid I will crumble with a touch.

I wanted to say that I wont turn into a wraith and vanish like my aunt, but I'm afraid it would be a lie.

"I'm getting better mom. Look here! I got more meat!," I said to my mom, hoping she believe the lie.

I know I'm turning fainter by the day.

She hugged me tighter, brushing my falling hair.

16.53 PM :
My mother left me her baked cookies, I nibbled on it. Wanting to stop being so starving. Ignoring the way my stomach want me to retch it.

I took another bite and count it as a success.

21.00 PM :
I stood in front of the mirror, that I had been avoiding for months, hoping to finally see my reflection.
Instead what I see was all the calories that I needed to burn,
The flaws that my body have,
And plans about not eating tomorrow.

I wonder if It's better to burn my self to ashes.

22.00 PM :
I went down stairs to grab some water.
I heard my mother crying to my father.
Said she's afraid I would vanish away from her.
Said she don't think she can take it any more.

Said she felt like she was cracking every time she sees me.

There were red gashes on her arm.

I swallowed the bile threatening to come out, ignoring how cold I feel despite the heaters on.

22.05 PM :
I smashed the mirror with my knuckle.
Rage and hopelessness was coursing my whole body. I let the tears and everything out.
The pain was sharp, and shards of glass were graced with my blood.

At that moment I saw my old self flashing in front of my eyes. So I kept punching the mirror until it is completely splintered. Shards of it was falling to the floor.

Satisfaction was addicting.

22.45 PM :
I went to sleep with gauze wrapped, still slightly bleeding, fist.
Blanket securely covering me, hoping the nightmares will not come today.

They did come, but they were nuzzling me.

07.00 AM :
I rubbed my eyes, blearily heading to the bathroom. My fist throbbed.

On the fractured mirror was written,

OUT OF ORDER:
This mirror is distorted by socially constructed
ideas of beauty.

Get a new one.

(P.S: You look fine as always)

By: Nabs

    When I was little, my mother often gave me flowers.

She would make me a crown of Primroses that smells like the day my father left us.
I would smile and dance a little twirl that had her smiling fondly. Her little princess, Said she couldn't live with out me.
I believed her.

Right before my mother decided to stop breathing, she gave me a bouquet of Lily of the valley.

I never knew that apology was poisonous.

    The day I turned fifteen, my grandmother gave me a book on flowers, It was written with green ink and bound in human skin. Said that It was family heirloom. Said that the universe needed someone who understand Hana. Said that I was born to understand only them and to remember that flowers are ephemeral.

I cradled the book, feeling as if the world was spinning. Opening it feels like coming home after a long time of drowning.

By the time I realized, a bush of Basil and beds of Petunias were growing in my home like ****. The color should have been red instead of purple.

      I met you when you were giving a bundle of daisy to a boy.
The boy scoffed and slapped the daisies to the ground. It's petal were falling apart just as blue and black blooms like an eager bud on you. Your body were taut as a string but your face was smiling, the kind of smile I couldn't decipher the meaning.

I picked the daisies up and asked if i could keep it.  You said only if I gave you my name.

You were wreathed with White Hyacinth and Pine leaves. It suits you.

    You told me one day, after you gave me a Bleeding Heart, that I needed to learn more than the languages that flower speak. That I needed to learn human.
I asked to you why do you say that?
You looked at me, with a little smile and a soft look on your face. Told me that I was too oblivious, I was more flower than human. I frowned and said," That hurts".
You laughter was much more sweeter than any Honeysuckle.

Though I still didnt understand your laughter nor the bleeding heart.

    The sight of our hands lacing together, looks much more delicate than Queen Anne laces. It made me aware of the dips of your lips, how warm your callouses hands were and the way you sometimes darts to sneak a glance at me with warmth in your eyes when you thought I wasn't looking.
I would feel my heart thumping loudly and I would disentangle our hands, trying to hide the tremors in my hands. You would pursed your lips and cracked a joke.

The next day I received a bouquet of Lilacs and red Peonies. It was too beautiful and I was already withering.

    You often asked If I was ok. I said I was. You would go rigid at that and started to pull down all the blinds to your soul. But that day when I answered I was ok, you gave me an Orange mock.
Said that I can trust you. You left with out meeting my eyes.

That night, I left a single Aster on your window sill. Hoping I did the right thing.

    The thing was, I was scared. Not of you, no never of you. That I swear on White Lilies and Myrtles that we bound ourself to.
It's just, every time I'm with you I want to bare my self naked. To let you see how the parasites are growing inside me, withering me as it did my mother. My grandmother would say that it is our legacy we cannot escape. To grow and bloom then wither ourself after the peak.

My Grandmother was a Sakura tree, My Mother an Ajisai, and I was a Tsubaki.

My mother was supposed to lived longer than me. But Hydrangeas needed their rain or they'll wither away.

    You told me once, that I remind you of Wisterias. Always enduring even after the cruelest storm. I grimaced and whacked you on the back. Said that you were an idiot for thinking that. You laughed again and tickled me until I asked for mercy.

I feel less Tsubaki and more human with you.

    I never let you go to my home because I could not bear the thoughts of you seeing the lawn strewn Marigolds, the grief that latched itself to the soil.
How the yards was filled with weeds and plants that was tangling them self to choke each other. How the walls was bare and the furniture was only enough to survive. The only thing that was lending colors to my home were the branches of Plum Blossom and bouquet of Lilacs and Peonies that seems to not wither away.

This home would not hold further.

    I gave you Blue Carnations the night when vines were choking my lungs, making it hard for me to breathe.

You said they were beautiful, and smiled a serene smile. I wanted to kiss you so bad, but I was leaking clear salty sap, that was rolling down my cheeks. I told you all about Hana and all about my family. How bare my home is and how you are my Iris, my good news, my good tidings.

You hugged me, not minding the sap that's staining your shirt. I didn't see the Red Camellia you were tucking in my hair.

  The day when I almost gave you Red Daisies and Lungwort was the day I found out that you had severe allergy to flowers.
That breathing their pollen would shorten your life as the breath you took became a privilege that you were slowly losing.
I asked, "why would you endanger yourself like that?".
"I love flowers, that's all", you said with an uncaring shrug.
The thoughts of you withering away, made me nauseous.

I went home throwing away the Daisies and Lungwort, Burning down the marigolds and Petunias.

The only thing was left were Hana and the bouquet of Lilacs and Red Peonies.

  I never get to told you that my roots was withering.

  When you found me lying on my home, covered with Primroses, Camellias, and Blood Red Poppies, I know that you knew. In your hand were Peach Blossoms and they were so very beautiful.
You cradled me close to your chest. Whispering that I will be okay, that It's unfair for me to do this to him.
"I know", I rasped. My voice was barely working and Black-Red sap was steadily tricking from the corner of my lips.

  When I saw my mother walking down to me, carrying a basket full of Sweet Peas, Volkamenia, and Yarrows, I understand what your smile meant the first we met.

It was Red Camellias, Love and acceptence

By: Nabs

A crystal clear laugh can be heard
Coming out from your lips
The fluttering of your eyelashes
Remind me of butterfly wings

You often speak quietly
Not out of shyness
But because you don't feel the need
To shout out your existence

The heaving of your chest
As you take each breath in and out
Made me remember the time
When you tried to choke it all down

Sometimes I see the spidery veins in your hands
And I think about lacing our hands together
How imperfect you are
And how the blood stains will always stays

We cried together, once upon a dream
I wipe your tears and you wiped mine
What comes off was a different thing
Yours were pain and mine was loneliness

Sometimes I wish I could trace your tear tracks
You never bother to hide them
You were never afraid to show it to the world
Maybe that is why they decided to burn you down

When I lay down, closing my eyes
And sleep under the willow tree
Often I see you hanging
Shards of crystals protruding from your back

Watching as the blood,
Drips down from your body
Pooling on the ground, turning the grass red Like the poppies you love so much

You often ask what love is
I would choke at that
And my answer would be lodged in my throat
Couldn't come out

Couldn't
Wouldn't
Such a paper thin difference

So I would reply with nonsense,
"Dude, why the heck would you ask me that? You're definitely asking the wrong person."
You would laugh at that
A loud free laugh as if it was wrenched out of you
And I saw you shatter more

There is one night
Where you sneak into my private corner
Where you smile mischievously
You left with a gift of awareness of your presence

You often fell asleep in the middle of a sentence
It was funny at first
And I would laugh
I could not find any humor after the tenth time it happen

Destruction often follow your footsteps
You would claim you do not intend it
I would pretend to not see
That you left wounds because you are wounded

"I'm happy", you abruptly claimed one day
You were lying through your teeth
But I could see that the cracks are getting wider
"I'm happy too", I said.

We laughed at how foolish we are

Sometimes time with you passes
Like sands through my finger
It is as if we have a hourglass
For our time together

I feel unsettled by that

We were pretentious
You and I
You would grin your **** eating grin
And offered me a high five

How could you be so perfect
With all the imperfectness you have
I never believed the word perfect
Until you with all your cracks, stood in all your glory

"I am drowning", you confesses to me one day
"In what?", I would ask
That night were a pitch black night
But I could feel your eyes boring into me

Later on, I would say that I am drowning too
You look at me startled, eyes glowing
Then you lace our hands
And letting the wind kiss your lips

I love you
But that is not and will not be
The words that will come forth from our lips
We know each other too well for that

There is a festival going on in the town
They're burning marshmellow in the bonfire
"And a body too," the wind whispered

You came to me that night with your edges melting and the thick smell of smoke

You said you're ashes now and you complement me

I wish I could hug you
That night when you're covered with ashes
But I did not allow my self
Because I, myself are dusted with glass

So we laced our hands together
Despite the blood and grime
Pain and Loneliness
What a beautifully wretched pair

Once we cried together
Wreathed by the ray of sunlight
Too bright for us to withstand
So we wipe each other tears

"Together", we said to each other
Tangling and knotting our hands together
Kissing each other temples while blood drips down
Falling together from the sky

By: Nabs

There is a dream where I woke up upon
Where you greeted me with a smile
At that point I closed my eyes
Again, for the hundredth time

There is a dream when I realize
That this ship is sinking
That the wave which carries this body
Is the one who sang this corroding melodies

There is a bird in this dream
Usually a raven, but sometimes not
Its eyes were made of fire
There is a heart pumping blood on the sand

There is a desert in this dream
Scorching hot and dry
Chapped lips and stolen tears
Under the tents, away from the glinting star lights

There tend to be sorrow here
It is like a piece of silk
and often the universe is cloaked by it
You just laughed when I said that to you

There are secrets in the air
Never before it taste so sweet
With a hint of bitterness at the end
Maybe that's why you're here.

There are diamonds, you say
And I asked, Where?
You just smile that secret smiles of your
There are tears streaming down your face

There is you in my dreams
Lips chapped and smiling
You keep walking away with gleeful steps
"Oblivion!", you said with abandon

Why is there always apologies hovering between us?
Ready to tumble from our lips

You hold out your hands to me
You asked me to take it

You asked me to take it

Do you remember the stars?
I once asked you
You just smile that sad smile of yours
And keep looking at the sky

At that time I wondered why do you keep smiling
When your eyes look so sad
When there are wound marks gracing your wrist
I never asked how they came to be

"I'm sorry", you often said
"For what?", I would reply
"This", you said with that sad smile of yours
I always wondered why would you say that

You hold out your hand to me
You asked me to take it

You asked me to take it

The first time i met you
There was a withering flower wreath laying on top on you
You were sleeping
Six feet under

I know you're bad for me,
but I'm addicted to you.
Cause you're my toxic anti depressant,
Couldn't do a **** thing but swallow.

Baby, your sugar coated lies rots my insides.