I'm trying to wear a smile like a lilac stuck in a fire. I only ever seem to burn brighter ignited by the lighter and fuel that was her heart and her love. I found enough of myself in another person's shadow, the shallow skin deep love I didn't know I was holding. The moments were golden but now they slip by me, I tell myself to keep fighting but these memories seem to burn with the lilacs. My back is broken by all the weight of the broken hearts I am forced to carry. The memories we built in photographs and celebrations all ignited into ash and dust in the winds, all within a mere second and do I regret it? If she was to break my heart again, in less than a breath, I will give all that I have left to her.

The curse of being so unattractive have taught me a few things,
the hurt that comes with it only ever seems to get worse.
The first reminded me of how stained yellow my teeth were,
I thought for sure there wasn't going to be a second.
I had better luck guessing as there was a second after the first,
the curse continues on and so did my lessons.
Blessings in disguise are better left untouched
because although I was enough, enough isn't just good enough,
the love she felt for me subsided within mere months,
so I learnt to never be too invested into something so short lived.
I'll give myself a cookie if that was where my classes ended
but I befriended a girl who mended my broken heart
but time drove us apart as she found herself a new job
and I a new hobby. I'd lobby against the idea of not trying enough,
but frankly we were both too lazy to make any of it work.
The perks of having a heart that is resilient enough to damage
is being able to take savage heartbreaks one after another,
my brother helped me see that I probably was the problem
as my relationships ended so often, it was a clear patten.
I couldn't fathom the idea that I was solely responsible
till I met a girl through modern day digital means,
I mean I haven't met her face to face but the thought was there
I bared my soul to this girl and I guess this time distance
drove us to listen to other things in life. That and blood parasites
are dangerous things. Lesson 5: Don't **** with blood parasites.
Which leads me to my last and final lesson of learning to not hurt
I fear it has only gotten worse when I think of-
how much I currently miss her.
The fissure that seems to break bits and parts of my life,
I'm trying to stop mid-strife but the point is that
sometimes you can love a hundred people
this evil thing exists in this world where things just don't work out,
you can hold thousand of doubts but if it is meant to be,
it will be.
The most important lesson I can ever give anyone
is to treasure those around you before they are long gone,
the same old song seems to sing in kids show
of how we should love everyone we know,
but frankly the truth is; if that one person is right enough,
if they're willing to try hard enough,
a volcano is just a hot mountain,
an earthquake is just the ground having a dance party
and a Tsunami is just the fishes way of saying "let's have fun".

Footnote: My lessons may be totally inaccurate as it is something you have to experience, go out there and get your heart broken as much as you can, it is the only way you will learn.

I wish I had a garden of guardians,
a place to plant my heart in, where parting ways-
and the resulting dismay are non-existent.
I wish I had a place to put my heart in,
where my heart remains fully guarded,
never to be discarded like broken business cards.
I wish I had a place to plant my heart in,
so that it could grow into roses and lilacs,
****** into a happily ever after, not to be mistaken for happy endings.
I want to grow a garden of stories, all of which rose petals-
settles on the soil, guiding me to the one who would hold my heart.
I want my heart guarded but enough so that it could still be stolen.

"Roses are red,
Lilacs are light purple;
I'm hoping the rose petals-
somehow leads me to you."

There's a barrier of two blocks that sit between our hearts,
each broken part of what we are only settles with the sun;
but tonight I've begun my journey into losing myself.
It's always been a scream of help away from losing it all,
maybe if I stand tall, there's one less stress on my mind
because feeling so blind in trying to gain vision is horrifying.
Maybe I'm just not ready to be loved, or maybe we're just wrong,
for one another, for each other, maybe just wrong all together.
Maybe there's an ocean drowning our hearts,
and this time the kiss I gave you over Christmas night,
isn't a lifejacket to help us out.

There's much to say
about your face,
the symmetry of it
makes me lose focus often,
your perfect blue eyes
like a cerulean sky
so mysterious in its shape
like a soot filled fireplace.
Your small mouth
are where best kisses are housed.
Your eyebrows arent too dark;
they are a canvas for live art
settled with or without a brow pencil.
You are the prettiest person I've ever met
with roses for cheeks stained crimson red.

There's much to say
about your face.

I don't want to look at her photos right now,
they'll only induce tears in my eyes.
I've practically cried them dry.
I don't want to look at her photos right now,
but I kind of want to at the same time,
because I'm so scared, so ******* scared,
that they will be the only thing I have left of her.
People tell me it takes time to get over a breakup
but what if that's not enough, what if time still won't heal me.

[STOP CRYING YOU ******* FOOL!]

She says the gems that have become her eyes doesn't shine,
she's been force-fed lies by those who despise her differences:
because her interests are not the same as theirs and the air
that she breathes somehow robs her of her sense of purpose;
she feels worthless by the curse words that people fire her way
like a birthday cake at a wake, she says these gems leak liquid
as if being gifted was the plague she lays awake afraid of the night-
because in the night, the nightmares seem to follow her.

She feels little, belittled by people who go out of their way
to make her in their way, she is the bullseye in plain sight,
so in daylight; her smile becomes concave downwards;
the cowards seem to know how to always overpower her,
and like a sour burp; she is a clear warning of what may occur.

She walks pass so many houses everyday; unique in their own way,
but it is all for display because the families inside aren't always sunshine
and roses.

She says the gems that have become her eyes doesn't shine,
I say they light up more than she could ever notice,
because feeling broken occurred more than mending
and like sending a letter, she awaits on a pending paper
so that the pen and paper could cure her of the blues.

She says the gems that have become her eyes doesn't shine,
but oh how divine they are, if only they weren't coated in tears,
she'd be able to hear how much her eyes sparkle and glisten.
[Ohhh tragic: the twisted world we live in....
and with the life I am given, I will make sure she knows her eyes- they shine.]

Forget that I stood at your grave,
Let the grace of my tears water plants
Around the radius of your headstone.

Be reminded of the memory of dried eyes,
Whence I was still holding your palms
And the photographs aren’t faced down.

Remember me for when I was happy
Not the man at your gravestone today,
Be reminded of me with you
Rather than the me without you.

Remember how the daisies still grow.

What held by all as nothing
Remains the most memorable part of me
And what could be given up so easily
Is what I cling on with my life.

So if it takes four years to forget me,
remember that definitely is just a word we assign to things we think will never end.
So if you play pretend, befriend a soldier,
remember that my shoulder is open.
An unlocked box holding up rocks waiting,
training, continuously changing; for you.
So if it takes four years to forget me,
remember that we live in a world
where artists curl ears to snip it straighter,
forget the patience it took before that cut,
forget the other stuff that cause the pain
and all we see is a painting. The stained page
of a life lost to being caged in with nothing.
We are all fighting our own demons,
and I'm glad you ran from mine-
I'll fight the confines of my cage waiting,
the patience I feel  in my soul weakening,
and each hit I'm dealt seeps in further.
Bruised and blue I remember you,
the starry nights won't pay justice to me,
and I ask not a leprechaun for change
because all he'll offer me is a pen and ink
pushing me to rethink and in rethinking,
I'm thinking I miss you, I'm knowing I do,
and saying sorry hurts a little less,
because it's like a blessing to my pettiness,
I've dug my grave so let me bury in it.
London girl, this heartbreak is my own fault,
hold your head high and cherish your rides,
Carry my story as just "another man you met".

If you're looking for reasons to hate yourself,
don't help the demons win your battles.
They say cattles don't bleat like sheep,
and I guess there's a green for every tree,
but when it comes down to it- you-
You're human and a beautiful one at that.
I know I remind you almost always about it,
but I just wanted you to never doubt it,
because clouded sky mostly leads to storms
and bub you shouldn't be torn into thunders,
sold like lightning onto tin roof.
You are amazing like the crew you carry around you,
and I am forever grateful to have known you.
Beautiful girl, don't give up, hold what love
you can and trust me when I tell you,
you'll find an amazing man to hold that love too.