Lost in feelings like a child who has lost their mother’s hand in a clothing store. What can I cling to as life begins to wear me down? I feel out of place in this room, surrounded by a sea of people who adorn themselves in ways that garner admiration from others. My neck is slick with sweat; my eyes heavy with tears, burdened by the smoke swirling in my chest like a traveller stuck in customs.

The ultimate destination is, of course, my head, where thinking of myself in a future tense is so heavy on my brain. My lips start to tense, speaking of the past with a few old friends – I’ve aged too well, that those grappling with the youthful insecurities I once faced believe we’re age mates.

Still what’s looking for a mate: a joint occupant; though my joints ache a bit too much. A soulmate in the wake of these days, but what good is finding one if you don’t really have a soul. So lost in myself.

Him: I’ll love you forever!

Her: That seems a bit cliché…

Him: Well… forever will never die, yet we all must face the end someday. However, if I can cradle my love in the embrace of a forever, and perhaps we cross paths in another life, I would relish the chance to fall in love all over again.

My dear Bambi lover, I notice a hint of fear in your eyes tonight —
fleeing from the glint of light that dances within my eyes. It was never
my aim to send you fleeing, my dear.

Even though my affection blooms most brightly beneath the warming
hues of sunrise- fret not, for we can find solace in each other’s arms,
cradled by the soothing melodies of our cherished memories for
another twilight

Polar opposites – one side happy, one side not so much.
One day I’m fine, while another I barely recognize myself.

Fitting through the days is as effortless as slipping my foot
into a shoe; yet on another day I find myself searching for
that shoe, or I might even choose to walk barefoot, craving
the raw sensation to remind me how to truly feel.

It isn’t the pain – it’s the mere contemplation of it that keeps
me tethered to reality, a hopeful lost dreamer adrift in a sea
of daydreams. My skin may grow thicker, but the heart’s soft
hurt grows a bit sweeter; even as my eyes perceive life’s
flavours as harsh and bitter.

Polar opposites – the spectrum of being happy, or trying
to be happy in the skin of your own being.

Tranquillity and wealth; boundless treasures can feel almost
like a torment—a magnificent chandelier in the heavens
merely flickers like a cluster of torches.

Triumphs and setbacks; would the spotlight still shine on
those who remain oblivious to your struggles?

Count the years, last I had a girlfriend –
not the same count since I last kissed a girl
but I could name the bunch I kissed (not a lot)
no grand numbers to express a body count;
though I’VE met a lot of people, but still haven’t
been around. Cried a little more this year, then what
I plan to begin with every year – tasted a drop of lust,
swallowed every piece of a tear (cut my tongue)
acted worse than my young- ****** up (a lot)

Thought of suicide more times than the reasons I had to
**** myself- did a bit of exercise for about a month
not for my health; my stomach was sticking out.
Fed myself a taste of lips, lost my tongue in the sound
of their hiss, got to hold onto someone’s hips- still never
found the appeal of calling a girl your ***** (isn’t that
an ick)

Been called out by those whose ears could never hear
a ring; tried to delete my Google when I though the search
for love was over- now I laugh instead, while using Bing.

I’ve had my full of this year, don’t expect me to be hopeful
for the next, I’ll just take it all as it is. Even if I don’t have all
that it takes, I hope I never lose what it takes to give…
my heart.

A, the solitary sentinel of the word alone –
A life that offers no change, even as I plead for a loan
A fractured rib from a heart weighed down, tell me what
bone can one pick against someone with a broken bone?

A day spent in the shadow of greener pastures, yet the rain
forgot to grace the grass a fugitive in the realm of love,
A criminal to the crime of love, steal a heart- still as one
adhering to the broken law.

A soul ensnared by the oppressive weight of their destitution – a
tempest of debts swirling in a perfect storm; lost in a cyclone
A, stands as the inaugural letter, forever the first to embrace
the chill of being alone.