Tangled thoughts – I love
your beautiful strands of hair,
And not having them tangled in
my fingers, leaves me so stranded.

I can’t help these tangled thoughts;
thinking about your curls.

Summarised tone of speech – let me imagine
the heat of your touch like a fine cigarette;
Your picture in my mind is such a drag.

Open ears to your deceptive voice, callous lines
of ******* in your words; so pure in white lies.
To my tough skin, your deceptive voice will
touch me – not in softness, but piercing into my
Conscience; knowing that even the prettiest looking
flowers aren’t the bunch of friends to hangout with.

Liars have the sweetest smiles, the sourest kisses
after the impression of their love wears off –
Like chewing gum, sweet at the start, until that
taste of nothing chews you up.

From the liar's mouth is the war with themselves,
battling with which lie they’ll use this day.
Telling you that they care so much for you -
liars are the sweetest.

The hardships of a man are his silent battles –
“you ought to open up more,” which opens
his worth to being diminished.

We only cry when the world is asleep, painting
smiles on our faces to render our outer walls
somewhat pleasing to your gaze.  

We fight private wars, striving to shield those
we love from the fallout – yet the scars we bear
are somehow unsightly in your view.

We’ll conform to your contradictions, offering
our utmost to project an image of strength for
the women, while our brothers are the only ones  
who truly understand our weaknesses.  

The hardships of a man are his silent battles –
and it is only his fellow men who can truly
witness their tears.

I pressed my best tears against the door; it must have been me
slowly opening up to you — you probably took me as your pet,
waiting for the pat of comfort from your hand. I felt the glow of
your heart, resting my head on your chest, that felt like sunlight
cushions.

You asked me so softly, "what's so heavy on your mind, love,"
like a cat seduced by curiosity. Even as I tried to pretend that
everything was okay, it seemed wishful thinking inside of
Aladdin's cave — I caved, telling you, "I can't feel this very
familiar pit in my heart."

Like a fire lit in the dark, between us there's always been this
attractive spark— a man overthinks himself, when it comes to
admitting that he's fallen in love. The words don't slip out so
easily off the tongue; but they wrestle their way around the
closed mouth.

But I've always had my suspicions that you secretly knew;
reading the words in my eyes. And when you replied it back
to me with a smile; I laugh about it now, picturing how silly
we looked, when we both smiled stupid smiles.

Death is not a silent affair; the sobs of the living resonate above my
coffin. I ponder the manner of my demise, never the timing, for each
of our ends have their set dates. Is that the reason why we bring
flowers to the grave, to compliment the date?

When we close our eyes at night, I know a piece of us dies, as a
fragment of our essence fades, dreaming to survive into tomorrow.
Perhaps those who choose suicide are merely those who forget to
wake up again—lost and still trapped in the darkness, searching for
the light, yet some remain forever in the dark.

Death is not a silent affair; anyone's sudden death brings the sound
of tears.