When someone’s voice
becomes
your favorite
auditory hallucination.

You are the rhyme
that refrains
into
my Rondeau Prime.

You’re my constituent
on preventing
my emotion
from corrosion.

Dear death,

I have met life,
He wants me to fight,
But I'm so weak-
So can we meet?

If only I could get rid
of my olfactory nerve
so I never smell
that nostalgia scent.

Who would have thought
that our first conversation
leads to
“until our path cross again”.

Why can't I shake
the thought
of

you?


I can't grasp
the emotions,
they're just

fog.


I'm caught in a storm,
barely breathing, and
just wishing for

clarity.


We both hear
the siren's song,
a plea to sink into abysmal

d
a
r
k
n
e
s
s
.



I just wish
I could pull you to
safe land,
and help you find the sun.