It was 3 o'clock in the morning
and everything hurt.
There were ads for some movie I now vowed never to see
because I saw the freckles on your face in every dot above the "i",
I saw your arms spread eagle
the last time I saw you yelling
in every lower case "t",
I saw myself in every capital and lowercase "P"
because I can't remember
how many sentences I started or ended with "please"
and just in case
I wanted to cover all ground.
Not like spreading myself across the cement
because I don't quite want to jump,
but you were the only rooftop I've ever visited
that I haven't felt the urge to leap off of.

You, with the soft heart and heavy tongue,
you with the debatable blueprints but wonderful execution,
you with the kaleidoscope eyes and binoculars in hand.
I saw the potential of how much I could fall in love with you;
you didn't have to be the building with the most windows,
you didn't have to be that small flower shop
with the butterfly stickers next to the bank,
you didn't have to be the mistletoe
in the middle of a dimly lit street.  
You just had to be the rooftop to show me it was there.

But when the depression hit,
you locked the door
and I was stuck in the stairwell
staring through the windowpane,
trying to remember what the streetlights looked like in the dark
but you were so certain that everything shut off when you did
and you didn't want me to be sad too.
I tried to remind you
that when the sun comes up again,
everything will still be there,
everything will come alive in the morning
you just have to stay intact long enough to see it.
But I couldn't stay awake long enough to stop you from crumbling.

I woke up to rubble,
yellow police tape and detectives,
crowbars prying your locked door open.
I got invested
and now I'm being investigated
and interrogated
and "WERE YOU THE ONE WHO PUT THE BOMBS HERE".
No sir,
I only told him I couldn't stay awake for him.
I didn't mean to make him think
that I would rather be unconscious
than watch him self-destruct,
I just meant I felt comfortable enough
to wait until he opened the door for me again.
But he can't now.

And I can't lock my doors anymore.
"Aren't you afraid of what you'll let in?"
I'm more afraid of what's being let out.
Your ghost follows me around
and is far too large to fit through the dog door,
and I don't want to look at you when you leave.
So I stay right where I am,
sitting on top of my roof
but your cement blocks will never feel the same
as my slate shingles.
I would rather be made rubble by your ruin
than made shelter for someone else.
When I shut down,
the streetlights are still on,
that means the sun will rise
and I with the heavy heart and soft tongue,
I with flawless blueprints but too anxious to start,
I with the color-blind eyes and microscope in pocket,
will try again in the morning
to not look so much like the police lines you left.

My dear midnight flower,
You are such a fighter (for good things)...
You're too good to me,
to everyone.
You always have been,
and you deserve more.

You deserve more poetry to be written about you,
you deserve more kisses and hugs,
you deserve less hurt...

But I guess you're "used" to all the **** that's in your life.
I hope one day you'll find your sun,
and you'll be their cherished moon.

You mean a lot to me,
and I hold you dear to my heart...
for you to get hurt,
I will hurt the person whom hurt you with a force over nine-thousand times stronger than what they did to you,
after consoling and tending to you first, of course.

The way you smile,
makes me smile, just knowing that you're happy.
The way you hurt,
it's a blow to the gut,
I couldn't protect you,
and you're hurt...

I'm sorry this poem is all over the place and I couldn't bring you enough justice,
for you're too good to describe in just mere words.
Only actions like
a swift kick to the head,
a hare burrowing into the ground,
and maybe a fisherman releasing his fish,
can describe you.

Or maybe
You're more like a skyscraper,
Literally and figuratively.
I'll always look up to you, senpai.
I will always try to take brilliant pictures of you, to capture the essence of you.
But I'll always fail,
'Cause you're best seen in real life and not in photos.

But no matter what, I'll always be here for you,
The bizarre Hanji sidekick
To your sugoi, very interesting
Levi-heichou.

- Love, your crazy, over-protective and psychotic kohai,
Paul ^^

Let me put it this way
If our life is a constant swim in deep waters
We would need to swim long and far
We face our fears and pains in the forms of monsters trying to pull us under
We face life as the water trying to drown us
We face things in such a fatalistic manner
Let's cheer up
Let's make sure that if there is a newbie swimming next to us that looks at us
Let's make sure that that newbie can and will see how to swim
And swim we shall
We shall swim and kick the monsters in their ugly faces
And rise above life's efforts to drown us and we will soar
Oh how we will soar. We shall soar the skies and the water will never again hurt us.


We will soar