She is the smell of new books.

Shes is hot chocolate, and a blanket, on a snowy day.

She is that first bite of big mac after a night out.

She is red and blue, side by side.

She is 8-bit games.

She is staying awake till 5 in the morning.

She is anaphoric.

She is oblivious.

Scarlet wings,
Flightless bird.
Perched upon
Shelves. Daydreams
Of the hands that
Folded her and
Wonders: where
Have they gone?
What went wrong?

A fault line runs in me through and through
Awakening unexpectedly,
Tearing at me
Night and day.
It crackles in the skin of my hands
I hide it from everyone.
You changed that,
As we search for each other in the dark,
Our skin and hair
Here and there.
I slept with a soundtrack
Of your breaths,
Whispering to me
The calmness of assurance
What else could I need,
The cracks within me fell asleep,
And so did we.

Your passion lit me on fire like the end of your cigarette
You had me screaming my love from the rooftops
But just like your cigarette, you put me out
And now I'm screaming from the fall

I. You told me that you saw the universe in my eyes whenever we stared at each other for longer than six seconds. The universe is infinite and I thought you were comparing it to our love.

II. You fell in love with the way I laughed and acted around you because I reminded you of a rose bud that you planted on your garden. Little did you know, a rose has its thorns and I'm guessing you weren't prepared for that.

III. The first time you looked at me with tears streaming down my cheeks, you blamed me for being so ugly looking. I was cursing myself when you walked out the door and didn't look back.

IV. Months after you left and I was buried deep under the ground, he found me. ***** and covered in mud, he washed me from head to toe. I knew I'd fall for him.

V. He and I had our first kiss on New Year's Eve and he gave me hope more than you ever did. I knew I deserved him.

VI. I saw you walking down the street while I was holding his hand and the next thing I knew, you were screaming so loud I could barely understand what you said. Later, I found out that you were cursing me for being freed by him from where you buried me.

VII. I found a letter by the front door the very next day and all that it said was how the writer could still see the mud on my face and on my back, just like the last time they saw me. I knew the writer was you.

VIII. The night he found out about the letter, he hugged me ever so tightly and he swore he wouldn't let anybody harm me. Let the Power above dealt with the problem.

IX. I'm happier than ever now that I know I have someone whom I can hold on to. I don't even see any mud on my face; it is you who's covered with dirt the most.

I asked her why she cut herself,
and she said,
"Because death has an edge
and life is pointless."
She asked that I not
write a poem
romanticizing suicide,
just a poem about
how hard it can be
to celebrate life.