to be alone is when you

start to see the clinical nature of the fluorescent lights on the metro.

it is to realise that once funny phrases you would mock are now something you need to vividly look out for on your daily endeavours.

it is to realise what rain used to look like in the suburbs. How it fell down in park long spent; how it dappled school shirts in droplets of art. It was art; the way harsh storms would contract the deepest screams out of those who hated the wetness - and the most childlike smiles in those who wanted to lose their perfect human form and melt alway in the element of chaos.

In the big city; our rain is muggy. it is almost as much ached and empty as it is humid. The sleet is now an inconvenience; we kick its rivers like bugs we flick from our fingers. It is no longer a playground, only a bitter memory that casts its long shadows on murky puddles of water - it’s only destiny to be stepped in, and stepped in again.

to be alone is to

breathe in the grey sky and appreciate the nostalgic smell of pollution. it is to realise the contrast between the warmth and the cold. It is to watch as summer days become winter days. As light becomes night.

to be alone is to be unsharing of your umbrella.

safe from all the wet; you’ll be. but you are dry. you will have no lingering scent of freedom; no glimpse of immaturity;

no.

you are dry.

mornings spent in muted hues; we are
yearning for an elusive past day

do the
orange of your new sunrises run as pretty as the
dear sunsets you saw by accident?
entwined in a single moment - the long
calls that bleed into ‘am’ time,
all of it; it all was seamless - we were
hearts beating as one.
every moment we had was a
deserted emotion -
ringing through. And sometimes I am
out feeling alone - but perhaps in the
night - we are together.

the thought of other dimensions makes me
covered in blue for a second
paints me in slow motion
i can run; but they will run faster
they will know what i never did
we will both clash in the ways we are wiser
the one who stayed and the one who left

it is to look into a glass box at people
When the glass box does not exist
It is hollow like the shell of
A crab who has long left,
Like the love of a
Love that has been since long loved
It is to wonder what bridges the vast canyon
From you alone to them laughing;
It is to ask and to become the buzzing question of
what is so wrong that we cannot do this?
(you)

It is to eye into a glass and
realise you do not know what should be there
It is like a wonder that has no
where to be and nowhere to go
like the awe of a new morning
that quickly vanishes with harsh night
It is to ask what must be causing headache
it is to ask what must be causing heartache
It is to question why to try in a land where
the only person you know is
(you)

Pristine waters along the new morning
Eating away at the shore’s lips
Licking the grains of sand that stray
Into the dark ocean
Crystals of colour floating in the sea
Aligning upon foamy waves
Never unmoving, forever free

To be the heart buried in forty minutes;

I commit the stars above as permanent defects,

in my eyes that shimmer in the amber afterglow.

All to wish for is;

someone to match my fingertips as silently as

the waves run to the beach and

the ocean caresses the sands.