I wonder how we all know how sweet tastes like

I'm sorry courage took a longer time for your hair to grow out past your shoulders

Maybe I regret the coveted gazes that took residence in the threads of your muscles now precinct, hardly noticed nor remembered

You're the seventh page of my diary, as well as the eighth, the ninth, the tenth and it goes on till the edge of this cliff you call home

There are things I don't know why I do

Like the time I gave myself bruises on my shins just because I liked the colour

Has anyone ever thought of how bruises are actually a metaphor of everything unsaid?

Capillaries bursting under the surface of your skin and not flowing, like the words that ride in submarines in your head but never brave enough to say them out loud

Things sound nicer when they come from your lips anyway.

I laugh too much

Is the passion carved on your skull as deep and carefully thought out as the things you say?

Warmth from you is as untrue and synthetic as your boxing gloves strapped tightly on

Punches with the soul of death, you pretend your stares are empty

I’ve watched sunsets more times than I have seen your smile

The darkness that swallows the harbor isn’t something we’d talk about over steaming cups of coffee

I don’t drink coffee anyway

I heard you make lovely icy rainbow popsicles and hand them out at barbecues

But nothing’s colder than your hard gaze, as hard as your cheekbones

I wish you’d grow your hair mid-back so you can finally braid it

I am not so sure what waiting is supposed to do except breed hope and a whole lot of misery

Silhouettes are me and you and everything intangible, just like me and you and black and white, just like me and you

I am in love with you but I do not love you.

There's a pinprick on each of your knuckles on one hand and I think I can hear you say they're for weekdays of guilt.

You're saying you'll scratch out "sorry" on your palm and press it on everything you own so the blood stains leave their mark.

You think the world is much easier to live in if you don't have to apologize with your lips.

“Don’t take too many pictures of the same thing,” you snapped once but it was only because you wanted them to see the sky turn from pink to orange for themselves and not on glossy paper. It was almost like you were saying sorry to the sky.

You watched something funny once and I remember you kneeling over with your face in the carpet. I thought you were laughing until you refused to get up hours later and I saw tears seeping through the fabric and realized you were begging on your knees.

You stand by the glass window, your eyelashes catching the light with your eyes downcast. You do that every time you think you cannot tell the difference between being ruthless and pretending you don’t care.

I remember the day you stood across and finally looked right at me with your black eyes and your gritted teeth, your breath steadied in patterned gulps, your hands hanging down the sides of your hips.

Your biggest apology was this stone cold silence.

Come away come away with me
my lost love, my love's lost.

Come away come away to the road
the winding road, that winds with the wind.

Come away with me to the water,
give your self a chance to live once again,
away from the evil, away from the big bad men.

Come away take my hand,
i know that you're scared, this is an offer
not a demand.

Come away come away with me,
child of the night,
come small bird,
spread your wings
and let us take flight.

Meaner than a Rattlesnake ;
she eats her friend,
Meaner than a poisoned snake;
her friend chokes her