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Aarya Jan 2014
That dear young man
Who lived on the corner of Wolf's street
Shaggy brown hair
Oh, he was sweet

I remember the days
When he stole me away
Took me for a ride
It was sad we parted ways

The memory of that night
We lay on a field of grass
We stared up at the stars
He said he had something to ask

“Did you know?
That there's a star in the sky
For every person in love?"
So when you feel lonely
Just look above

But do you know
What the saddest part is
Life's not fair
There are an odd number of stars
In the sky, up there

“Do you have a star?"
He asked.
Do I? I wondered
I wish I had answered
But then it began to thunder

Now I know the answer
But that was years ago
If he asked me again
I would say so

But that dear young man
Who lived on the corner of Wolf's street
Doesn't live there anymore
But boy, he was sweet

But that was years ago
Now I stare up at the sky
If he asked me again
He would hear my reply

The saddest part is
Life's not fair
There are an odd number of stars
In the sky, up there

I have a star
I always did
But now he doesn't
And I feel morbid

But that's not the end
Of that love story
True, the man had died
And he had no star
He was always watching her
Even from afar
Aarya Jan 2014
We kissed
And it was nothing like fireworks.
Tell me again
Whey there is no time else like November
A vague remembrance of my childhood
I think I was supposed to be having the time of my life
Right
Time does not change what happens
The same things keep coming back
But it’s the same story over and over
I’ll just play along
I heard kisses were supposed to feel like fireworks.
Aarya Jan 2014
If I could,
I would pick up my ink pen
and drown an ocean into you
instead of drowning you in it.
Extract these rotting feelings
for the sake of your ignorance.
Carve scriptures into each delicacy of your brain
so you wouldn’t have to dwell in such misery every day.
Wire faith
to your blemished heart.  
Imbue purity
to your sullied soul.
If I could,
I would write you through all depths of insanity
without any harm
so that your
mind no longer persists the thought of death.
There was a time I thought you were dead.
Only you were painted red
in a black and white world.
Like you have been walking barefoot on a broken road
your whole life.
Your demons imitate life
And life imitates the demons.
You are the one being tied down by invisible, nonexistent chains.
So unaccepting of help that has come for you
Watch  
the sun touch the horizon
reach the meeting of sun and ground
and
Find further still,
The limits you would like to reach only run from you.
You have such a murderous tongue
for society  
people.
But one day I hope to see you write yourself into existence
Rather than to let yourself drown in it.
Why has you dying become something so habitual?
Darling, death is not a friend of yours
Nor are you a friend of his.
But I know of your frequent dates with death
Tell me
Does his neck feel like happiness
And do his lips relieve you of your suffocation
Now
are you lost?
or are you found?
Do you recognize the irony  
Of the most terrifying things happening in the most angelic places
Charm yourself upon that bridge
Whose lights light up the city in golden arrays
With a glazed look
you’d think.
In sadness seen go by
You are charmed by either war or hope.
These occurred robberies have taken much
But they left opportunity
Important people
And a moon in your window
A future that only you know the ending of  
And a slice of the midnight sky.
So it goes.
Aarya Jan 2014
If colors
were
drugs
black
   would be
the
only
beautiful reality
and
white would
be a
numb dream
and
pink
would be
a shade of
mold
and grey
would
be my light
and red
would only
scream and yell
terrible
terrible
terrible
reminders
and laugh at me
from the golden frames
of long paintings
and blue
would whisper
a cold lullaby
into my
soft
ear
and green
would be
only a
chemical
and
brown would be my
pity
and be
so
so
so
sorry
it covered me
yet would
remind me
we were
all
a bunch
of
nothings
and yellow
would only
make me
completely hollow
and black
would cradle me
and rock
me gently to sleep
in its arms,
my drug.”

— The End —