There's a poem deep inside
a story that needs to be told
the ink needs the paper
it's shape you need to mold

Draw the precious words from your heart
pen a pattern on each line
let go and feel the emotion
as if you are without eyes

The characters pour rapidly
and your beating heart will swell
it's brimming with passion and hurt
as you share the tale you need to tell

Displayed now in black and white
your exhausted heart, quiet and calm
the poetic piece is now complete
and held tightly within your palm

I will stealthily come
To steal, the treasure in your eyes
Ready to surrender to you, for my crime
And willingly serve a life sentence*





© Amitav (Radiance)

It started with fun nights and stopless laughter.
It started with sweet kisses in our blanket fort, warmed by the lights hanging above us and surrounded by the soft music repeatedly mumbling love words.

It faded into talking less and only hours within 2 weeks of seeing each other, but that didn't bother us.
It should have.
It faded into ignoring each other's texts and hiding from words that start with L, hopelessly wishing that the initial spark would hold up a house of cards instead of burning it down.

It is presently a mutual relationship of two acquaintances who act like they don't know what to do with their freed hands hanging loosely instead of being held.
It is presenty an awkward time for me. Where I don't want you, but I miss you, or the things you used to represent at least, like passion and things that aren't supposed to be.

Key words: aren't supposed to be.

I look down hoping to see
something other than what I already know.
My God will be
oh-so disappointed
if I have actually done it.
Maybe I didn't.
Maybe its just my imagination.

But I feel it.
That
oozy
sticky
runny
warm
thick
trickle
runs down my am in
a beautiful
glossy
flawless
crimson.
I am so ashamed
but yet so relieved.
I feel like relieved is a wrenched thing to say.
It probably is.
But my morals died
the first time
the razor
and my skin
collided.

And as I stand here,
in awe of my art,
I realize that
oh ****
I have left a little pool
on the floor
and oh ****
it might stain.

But I don't want to clean it.

It catches the light in a certain magical way.

Does this make me evil?
Or simply confused?
Maybe my mind is not working
because I'm just in awe
of these
sick and twisted
but revitalizing
cuts.

Be with me; now!
Go away; stay!
Don't fight me; hey!
Forget what I: say!
and learn to just love me, and all of my ugly.