They tell us!
     When he stopped loving you!
           You shall move on , step by step. . .

    But did they know every melody is timeless,
            Every ocean breeze brings the smell of sweat, salt and rain,
Every hoodie, brings back warm cups of winter tea.
     Every sheet brings back the image of you laying next to me.


How do we move on?
𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒

If I rip apart your perfect veneer,
   Disembowel its beauty,
      behind the peering darkness,
          lies a garden, with a fountain of lust
              for all you are,
                  all you will be,
                     is an imaginary object,
                          that is all you give,
                               all I get,
                                  want,
                        ­              & [̲̅N][̲̅e][̲̅e][̲̅d].

You give yourself to him,
        he takes and he takes,
             until your reflection is a stranger,
                                      a cheap, overly used, stranger.
  -He will n̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ love you.

I'll never fall in love again,
for I never knew love until I met you,
I never knew to cry,
I never knew to drink,
I never knew to long,
until I met you.
I'll never fall in love again,
for love is a disappointment,
& my greatest mistake.

Princes don't exist in my narrative,
no magic wand, no mysterious old woman.
no happily ever after ending.
My narrative is no fairy tale,

My narrative is,
you looking into my eyes,
      you touching my skin,
           6 a.m. coffee, full of tired complaints,
playing house, yells , laughs, tears and screams.
You by my side, it is no fairy tale, it is just real life
and that is alright.

I know my beauty pales in comparison to the beauties of the world,
        the beauties you can find.

Your connoisseur feelings were dragged by my brain, by my words, by my heart with all its splendor, the cadence of my thoughts, the idealism and peculiarity of my mind.
      but I'd be joking if that was true.

You fell in love with my looks, the fury of my ***, and even when I have you I can't help but feel that I lose. . . for I know this love will n̶o̶t̶ ̶l̶a̶s̶t̶. . .

"why do you dress up?"
my heart dropped, in that moment I knew. . .
I was not a lover, your muse or your dream.
I was your o̶b̶j̶e̶c̶t̶

I am the ocean,
under raging storms of my,
mental disorder

-Ocean

Some like solitude,
   but no one wants to be lonely. . .
500 square feet, quickly turns into a castle.
   needles and glass;
line ***** tiled floors.
   eyes roll back;
is this tranquility?
  
-I am lonely

Let me live
   under a tree of insecurity,
       with flowers falling,
           like flecks of rust off old iron
              painting a picture
                  of a bird that could not fly,
                        a dog that could not bark,
                            and a man who could not admit " I loved you"

With my voice I call you,  
  with my heart I want you,
    with my nerves I feel you,
I love you. . .
Engulf me in your absence,
          fill me with your song. . .
You are eternally absent,
Born from perfected vanity,
     born to invoke anguish,
          for this loneliness numbs me,
Loving you this way it hurts,
     as you become o̶m̶n̶i̶p̶o̶t̶e̶n̶t̶ over my emotions,
I pray, I plead, burn it down
  for this love hurts.

You're happier without me,
I know I wasn't what you wanted.
Please, say you miss me, even though we both know you don't.
Say you love me . . . once more.

In my lowest,
   came the "hello"
Alluring eyes
   I'll admit
It was love at first sight.

    Endless hours
& words expressed
     Did you hear it echoing?
the heartbeat?

Beautiful Smiles
   Fiery kisses
empty bottles
    ***** sheets.

Paragraphs
  turned into "ok."
and an unread
you set off a dream in me.
Can you hear the echoing?
of my heartbeat?

Shattered dreams
   Empty tears
a one night stand
   but not for me. . .

this love is not enough.
--for me--

Want every single piece of you,
want your kissing and your touch too.
I want you to treat me soft, but be rough too.
Friends laugh and say goodbye,
words of broken promises and bleeding hurt.
Hopelessly in love with you, I am deaf.
for baby I have drunk the poison of love,
for which we have no cure!
Yet I miss you,
toss and turn under the night,
when all the lights go out
it casts a shadow of doubt
tie me up
chain me down
throw away the key
don't let me walk
please. .
pull me in. .
hold me close. .
don't let go. .
for my heart has gone mad

-Only for you-

Longing for you,
  makes me contemplate.
     If this love is self hate.
         hate for a bird that can not sing.
            hate for a bird that wants to spread its wings.
                 hate for an ugly pigeon who dreams of being a dove.
you are everything
      I am ᑎOT

It is not the pain itself,
It is the memory of having seen the bottom of the abyss,
The pain of each cataclysm, the pain of living torture.

It is the pain of these sleepless nights,
of this vile memory multiplied.
It is the pain of remembering your scent, It is the pain of this heart which beats through my poor crying soul.
The pain of reliving my abyss , full of nothingness, regret, empty , cold, desolate without you.

These memories bring me down,
     to the void, which I now climb alone.

The peach tree died today,
dried from inside,
there is no butterflies, no bees, no birds that feast.
lie to me & tell me its okay.
Invent a story or two,
tell me the tap broke, tell me you fell asleep.
Just don't speak the unspoken truth, that you were busy with them.
As I was away dreaming of our future white picket fence. . .

People are beautiful. . .
    
    Cities burn,
       I was five and he was forty-three.
     Bang!
       What an awful sound. . .

People are beautiful. . .

Piano Keys & Harps,
     Gluttonous Pigs.
Crash!
     Children starve!


People are ugly,
  - truth.

. . .First I lost myself. . .
     . . .Then I lost my mind. . .
          . . .and then I lost my life. . .

-ignored my cries in my plea for life-

I sit under the desert breeze,
under the tall palm tree pondering,
who I am, what I want,
  what I need, where I want to be,
      why do I live, why do I wake?
the desert sand on my toes, a slight reminder
  of living, a brief sign of my humanity,
        a simple touch. . . with no answers. . .
I am alone. . .
    not even my conscious answers.
          I miss myself. .
Why am I alone? why is my heart scattered
   upon the questions unanswered
          pondering; lack of living
                     I want to live; not p̶o̶n̶d̶e̶r̶

What
         if
           the
                 world
                           was
                                 like
                                       two
                                               souls
                                                          t­hat
                                                             ­     conjoin
What
           if
                the
                    souls
                ­            were
                                  just
         ­                               &
                                           right
                                                 dancing
                                                               in
                                                              ­     harmony
                
Leaving us in a state of endless ecstasy
                     --flowers for bombs—
                            No races, religion or ***
         in the phantasmal state.

       Stars pass and time is endless like a life age on earth
Timeless—
  Then I hear the neighbor sing, ****, never mind we are in a
         endless purgatory

Growing up a pirinola was gold,
  watching it in spin ,was elation on earth.
        Seasons pass and an adult is measured by his worth,
             Cars,
                 homes,
                    dollar signs,
looking back I was fine,
     I was richer then,
         and poorer now.
        

-PӨӨЯ

Blood stained sheets,
   the smell of **** and ****,
      creases in white linen , never looked so colorful
          endless rivers of tears and anguish,
              dreary flowers in drool stains,
                    if sheets could talk. . .
                        they would beg "please stop"
                            above a never ending bedrock of old mattress springs,
                               that groin and creak,
                                   a tectonic shift of emotions,
                                         disturbed by a thunderous voice
                                               " clean yourself up, sorry"

a reminder you had your way. . .
         -ŘÃƤẸ

Reality is reductive,
  mundane tasks,
      mundane days,
         wishing for the best to come.

Wanting what we can't have,
               Craving what is wrong,
                     Forgetting what we have,

over and over again,
   Reality is  ░r░e░d░u░c░t░i░v░e░

I'm sorry,
   to everyone I ever loved.
     I am sorry to my mother,
        sorry to my father,
           sorry to my lover as he gazed down in regret.
               I don't know why. .
                    I honestly try,
                          I tell myself
                             STOP
                              STOP
                              STOP
                                 I'm sorry
                                    I remember the pumps
                                      The "Hold on"
                                         I'm sorry I want to see him once more. .
                                              I remember the lights
                                                 the cold white walls
                                                   under fluorescent light.
                                                       I will get help. .

But
I'm sorry I just want to see him again. .

-Relapse-

Make me the exception,
let me love you; for she does not.
Make believe blindly in you and invade my heart,
****** me of reason,
turn my blood to flame and let burn with passion,
embrace me, never let go, live inside me.
Make me forget, please fulfill my r̶e̶q̶u̶e̶s̶t̶.

To my heart that is dead,
deserted of hate and love already lost,
to my heart held by the brakes of my flesh,
I say unto you, stop your song; as I give the twilights of my life.
To be reunited with him once more.

With Anger!
    He tried to silence her song!
        In fear of his own timidity. . .
               But her song is carried,
                   In an endless river of life,
                       No matter the blows, the yells, the punches. . .
    His voice is like thunder on midsummer eve, it comes, and it goes.
                               But the river is eternal,
                                     It breaks off into endless streams,
                                               Thus, it continues to sing.

Save me from this romanticized brain,
my body enacts its revenge,
  Engrossed in an end that does not end.
It penetrated my soul, my body, my mind.
Save me! Save me! From myself!
From these thoughts, of this **** r̶o̶m̶a̶n̶t̶i̶c̶i̶z̶e̶d̶ ̶b̶r̶a̶i̶n̶
.

Among a sea of weeds,
be a rose,
elegant,
  beautiful,
      timeless,


- ᖇOᔕE

******
        Ignorant
                    Flattery

when did poets become so
       --miniscule--
constantly partaking within a state of iterability
        Plato rolls in the grave
while Derrida weeps.

                         Sad state of iterability.

In the mirror I see,
An old vase, full of white chrysanthemums,
Under a sea of emotions,
I imagine the vase in vast hues of blue, red, purple, green.
It changes and morphs into my creation,
but the chrysanthemums persist,
for a vase is a vase, change is change,
but what is inside stays the s̶a̶m̶e̶.

Dusty pages, amongst sullen skies of grey.
The smell of dry citrus and chamomile in the air,
my heart reaching for the heavens . . .
where your laughter once thundered down from above filling the chasms of solitude, of longing, of yearning to hear you once more.
To feel your touch, a slight warmth against my skin, turns to a ghost pain; for that is all that you bring.
My fingers trace your face across the yellowed photographs, your smile, so full of life, so full of dreams, all gone in a second. These memories that envelope me, free me, save me, they draw me into this dying sea.
As I float, I see myself, fractured, broken, reflecting what is gone.
But its not me, it is someone else that stares back at me,
mocks me, for he seems happy. . .  
& I know that can not be me.

This love that echoes, in the chasm of longing.
  Whispers of winds, of lovers in a life before.
      Bound by a love that pierces the veil of time,
           Ethereal, Eternal, Fleeting Love.
              Two souls conjoined in purgatory,
                   beat with a single heart.
                      Forever bound, to conjoin, but drift apart
                          in this dance, let us hope we are given a second chance.

Smell of cheap coffee,
  an unwanted reminder
            of unassigned roles. . .

        Why did the leaf fall before the tree?
            Why did the moon howl at the wolf?
                Why did the bird swim far below?


Can you imagine a world?
     with no roles. . .
            no unspoken rules. . .
                  
                            - Choices