It wasn't that sunny out
Just overcast enough to have a picnic in the garden
You never liked when it was too sunny
It made you uncomfortable
It gave you the feeling of being thrown on a stage without a script
Spotlight shining into your eyes
Followed by the anxiety before a performance

You didn't know if a bad performance is better than none at all
Yet here you were, on a stage set with hibiscus and orchids
With the sun shining in your eye
Wait no, not the sun
Her name was Soleil
She just had eyes like the sun
And she wanted an unrehearsed dance
Before you could realize, her spotlight had already engulfed you
You never liked when it was too sunny
Yet you're here smiling and not feeling too uneasy

So you danced, leaping from shadow to shadow
She came closer, shining even brighter
You covered your eyes
While the shadows under your feet disappeared
You wanted to retreat with them but it was too late

You, who never liked when it was too sunny
Now found yourself engulfed in her heat
Evaporating with no cloud cover to save you

Mercilessly, she, who wanted an unrehearsed dance
Started dancing with you
The hibiscus and orchids caught fire by her feet
She took no pity of them
You didn't either, knowing you were joining them soon

You watched as she reached to touch you
She held you like paper
As if she was ready to forge the sun's signature on you
You held her like a dancer who forgot what move came next

Without warning, she removed the cover from your eyes
And set fire to your lips
And set fire to your body
And set fire to your garden
Yet you smiled with the taste of the sun lingering on your tongue

This was the first time you've tasted fire
And you didn't want it to be your last
You thought, maybe it wasn't that bad to be ignited in her spotlight like this
She whispered into something your ear but you couldn't speak Goddess
But you knew that all you wanted to tell her was "encore".

I uprooted the only thing that I've ever planted.
The blood of its petals falls lighter than my tears.
As if my emotions held no weight.
I know that I must move on.

But the hole of what used to be.
Left in a garden where beauty used to grow.
Feels so painfully empty.
Begging to be filled.

I cry into the hole
Where I know nothing will grow from.
I think to myself if maybe I would've nurtured it more.
But my thoughts feel so pointless.
My words shatter loudly as they fall out of my hands

I can't even cry in silence.

Here is a poem

I made it from the words I found on buses, newspapers, blowing in the afternoon wind
and in daydreams.
And from the words you never told me..
Like "I won't give up on you"
Or "I'm staying".
I assembled them along with the leftover words from my suicide notes.

Just for you.
Just like how our lost brothers used to make them.
Or would've.
I want to see these words living on your lips.
Or falling down your cheek.
Or Running Along Your Wrists
OR WRAPPED AROUND YOUR NECK
Or even just reflected at the back of your eye.

In the hope that you'll receive a call at 3am on a Sunday morning about these words.

Then hear them again on the evening news.
About how they were found ISOLATED, HANGING in the dark,
AND SPILLING ACROSS THE ROOM.
Haunting it for centuries to come.
Let them talk about how it was the words.
Instead of one of us.

I wasted my time watering a rose that will never bloom.
Every day I woke with the false hope that my dream will come true.
Every day I slept disappointed and heartbroken.
I've become addicted to tending to it even if it didn't want me to.

The rose withers.
Yet my dedication does not die.
This flower represents more than my hard work.
It has always represented my unachieved dreams and the beauty that life hid from me.

The flower becomes long dead but I remain in denial.
As a vacuum widens within my heart.
I continue to work and pray for a miracle.
Something died along with my rose.
A lot died along with my rose.

A miracle occurred - I uprooted the red corpse; destroying everything that I have ever idealized.
I look at the dried broken petal and I see everything that I've ever lost.
Yet I continue tending to it.
It now bathes in my tears.

Your undiluted colors flow so loosely
Leaving a messy trail wherever you go
I clean it up anyway
I'm mesmerized by its purity

My palette doesn't span so many shades
There's only so much colors I can even name
But yours... I didn't know that one brush can hold so much in it

The way you run it on my canvas
Making every page become so soaked
That I'm afraid it'll tear apart at any moment

Though because you don't let the colors dry into place
Everything drips right off
So the pieces you make never become permanent
And as you refuse to be diluted
Your palette empties so quickly

Leaving me to realize
That you'll never be a part of my portfolio
And you'll be art
That no one can ever own.
I'm broken by how easily
Your beautiful colors are washed away.