I stopped writing...

But after several years,
You just send me a text,
And I realise I'm a mess.

Because here I am.
In the late A. M,
Writing...

Missing you too.

You see me as a dark passage you have to go through.
Leaving your fingerprints on my walls while trying to find your way out.
When you find the exit, you leave without looking back.

And I have to buy new paint each time...

I've been practising how to fix my contenance by trying to carve a smile in the corners of my cheeks.

For when I see you again.

As I visit him, filled with history that cannot be thrown away.
In his museum, he is there, at the centre, a piece of art.
But still only a statue...refusing to move.
Refusing to yield a warm touch.


But who is truly foolish?

No more foresaking my peace while unspoken conversation choke me,
No more letting butterflies flutter more than the need to,
No more protecting you, while leaving my safety to chance,
No more replaying great days that erase bad days,

No more magnifying your moments of sweetness,
No more living with you in my dreams,
No more building happiness with my tears,
No more I love you more than I love me,

No more painting red flags with white,

No more,

No.

When he smiles,
Instead of butterflies,
I'm flooded with nostalgic memories of times spent together laughing like hyenas.
And roasting each other as if we were marshmallows on a stick hovering over a campfire.
Memories of talking over the phone for hours,
Where he does not whisper sweet nothings to me, instead we speak about the moon,
the stars, everthing and question why everything is the way it is.
This is why when I seek comfort I go to him.
Because I get more than this,
He gives me insight,
A different perspective
Or a reason to self-reflect.

He is not my pillar of strength.
He is the healthiest relationship I've had with a boy for years.  
He is Ray.
Like the ray of sunshine flowers need to grow.
He does not know this yet
but he is definitely the platonic love of my life.

I'm scared to commit...

I feel like I'm with holding parts that have been hurt by others.

Blankets don't keep away the loneliness.

We are works of art,
and we are walking museums.

Let's be careful who we display our broken pieces too.

It's easy to love someone you don't know quite well because the possibilities are endless.

... Once you know them a little more, the possibilities start to shrink...

... Like dreams that fade when reality sets in...