The existential weight of the world
rests heavy on my shoulders.
I've worn myself down to the bone,
and found peace in grief that smolders.

I eat enough to carve a name from within,
but never enough to keep afloat.
I'm trapped in a cave—
with an opening so thin,
I'd starve myself to death,
just to see the light at the end.

I seek love in the morning sun
and strip myself of joy in the hollow night.
I'm a liar and a hypocrite—
for I tell beautiful lies,
mesmerizing those who seek faith,
while I pray each night,
to meet a peaceful fate.

I walk in sonder,
blowing kisses to babies,
smiling to strangers—
always stopping to smell the daisies.

I almost cry, passing forgotten souls,
many names faded on headstones.
And still I ponder:
if I were to let go,
could I ever atone?

It's all getting so dark again,
and I find solace in a dimly lit phone—
a rectangle emitting light in my shadows,
a keyboard where my fingers clash,
as I'm anxious and desperate
to articulate how I feel,
to put it into words for people to read,
wondering if people can see me.

You.
Do you see me?
Do you hear me?
Do you feel me?

Is anyone out there,
who can feel how I feel?
Who sees me—
in all my ruin,
all my grace,
all my love,
It's all so dark again.

And I'm so tired.
And I'm holding onto the hope
that someone,
anyone,
can see me.

It starts like a low tide—
subtle,
pretty, even.

But inch by inch,
the dark creeps in
til' suddenly—
dusk hits.

The tide becomes a tidal wave,
and all at once,
the darkness slams you into a haze.

You have no choice but to succumb,
the voices tell you there's no other option,
while staring down the barrel of a gun—
that this is all you have left.
So you drown in your sorrow
leaving behind all regret.

We were like two ships;
passing in the night—
except,
we weren't passing each other at all,
we were circling each other,
over,
and over—
swept into a whirlpool,
strung along for a relentless cycle,
until we reached the pit,
and we sank to the bottom,
forgotten,
as if the ships never set sail.

I say I don't care,
and I continue my days.
I say I don't care—
but I still search for your gaze.

I say "I don't care!"
and smile for my friends,
but the moment I turn—
my heart quietly descends.

I say I don't care,
and try to feel whole,
I say I don't care—
but I remain hopeful.

I say I don't care,
and that it doesn't matter,
I say I don't care—
yet I still set my heart on the platter.

I say I don't care,
but I urge to give you my all,
I say I don't care—
while I helplessly fall.

The delicacy,
that is a woman.

Soft as silk,
sweet like red wine,
tastes of fruitful fertility—
a dish so rare.

Are you at peace?
Is it beautiful where you are?
Can you still see me?
Can you hear me?
Did you read my letters?
Are you reading this one now?
Do you regret it?
Did it hurt?
Did you hear me cry?
Did you see me step on the chair?
Did you tell me to get off?
Did you save my life,
even when I couldn't save yours?