I’m speaking at you
I’m always speaking at you because the words never seemed to penetrate your thick skull
I’m breathless
I feel like I’m running marathons just to never cross the finish line
I keep circling endlessly
Never moving forward
Never moving backwards
Never moving
Never growing
What is the point in watering grass and it never getting greener
My love I have to uproot myself
Start afresh on new soil

I cried a river
only so I could drown every bitter encounter with you

I don't want to get up and walk through the rubble
gathering pieces that had been glued imperfectly together once before
I don't want to disturb the peace
it only just became quiet , muted

I will just lay still here
clinching to the hushed disarray

Because they will pick out the bad
and poison the apple before it begins to ripen
I scatter my seeds in secret and only when they begin to sprout they shall know

It was a day where the sky cried for me
and I cried for me too
it was a day where I decided to ignore the cuts and bruises I gifted myself as a present and keep walking on the smashed tiles                  
I was desensitised to the ache but every slash that broke my skin seemed to give release

looking in the mirror, the eyes that blinked back carried no colour
the mirror cracked under the sting of my hateful gaze
and for some reason my knuckles bleed from this
drop …… drop
oxidised deep red stains followed me to the timber balcony
the wood absorbed every distress from me and the sky
the silence on my mind as the rain played with my face was disturbed by wondering of what it would be like on the other side of the world
where there was a small barrier between fire and eternal peace

She wasn't the type of girl that plunges herself  into oceans knowing very well that she couldn't swim
but for some reason she wanted to taste how salty his sea was
and float on the unpredictable waves
all while watching how the clouds created stories in the form of shapes above them

What is a love story if it isn't written in tears and hard-times  
what is love if not the days you can't stand each other but can't stand to be apart at the same time
so you lay watching the ceiling on separate sides of the bed while hands are still intertwined firmly
what is love if not the ear wrenching screaming and the bruised knees from the tumbles and turns
what is love if not the heart swelling affection you have for each other
that heals everything else
and the eyes that smile admirably at each other  
while the world seems to freeze and observe such as sight