Twirling on moonlit streets
where their shadows entwine
simple as falling water,
in a world without time.

The scent of lilacs arise
a true epitome of spring left
on their fragile fingertips.

A violent, jagged
slash across the chest
as if you slowly dragged the dagger though me slowly,
unsure with shaky hands,
stopped to think again,
then continued, just as
shaky as before.

All the while
the crimson paint begins to
overflow,
a volcano too full,
a river that decided to be an artist,
but the only color it has is ruby.

On the morning of the end, they wove the nooses of rough cord.
Daylight broke cold, the sun did not warm the Earth.

The sky was grey, the sun was dim.
The hoarse whispers of Latin drifted across the barren court yard.
Lined in stone, but for the creaking of the wooden gallows.

The sullen crowd gathers, heavy in their silence.
As they pull the bag from my head, I look blearily for you.
They shove me up the steep steps, I stumble.
The executioner tightens the noose around my neck.

My hands are bound behind me, there's no fighting death.
His grubby hand briefly grabs my face,
He whispers cruel words, intent for them to be the last I shall hear.
The lever is pulled and floor drops away, my last words I whisper,
Come to the gallows, my dear.

**Crack.

From experience,
I've realised that a
poem never changed anything.

My beloved, believe me when I say you are beautiful
Like how I do whenever you whisper the same to me
We are beautiful, and our love is as beautiful as the word's best definition could ever be
There is beauty in the way our eyes resemble hopeful sunrises
As we gaze into the hollows of each other's soul
In the way our softest kisses spark the most brilliant fireworks in the firmament
In the way the intertwining of our fingers
Commence a massive stampede in the still jungles of our hearts
We are beautiful, my love, we truly are
But we are beautiful stars tremendously shining that cannot be in the same constellation
Our lips are the dulcet melody of an orchestra but the composer wrote us in different music sheets
We are both pieces of a magnificient puzzle but not adjacent ones; our edges do not coincide
Beautiful is how we worship the same sun and perform parallel rituals
Though I realized that we are but ethereal planets bound to our own inescapable orbits
Our corporal entities are home to various innumerable celestial bodies
I have enough proof to say we are galaxies with feet in this incessantly expanding universe
Listen to me love, when I say you are beautiful and so am I
Heed me when I say we are beautiful but we must face the reality
We are as beautiful as we could ever be but our proximity does not yield the same result
Remember that every sunrise will set at a certain time of a wonderful day
That no fireworks display are tattooed on the sky's flesh
That no explosion of resplendent colors remain, that it is a fireworks' nature to disintegrate
And the aftermath of stampedes is just unimaginable
I may not be an astronomer but I have witnessed each of us turn to neutron stars
And two neutron stars cannot occupy the same space, especially collide
The composer's judgment cannot be questioned
For the composer knows the best music shall be produced if we are not played simultaneously
There's a reason why the planets are crafted as they are, why galaxies must stand alone
So for the last time, I will tell you, that you are beautiful my love
You are beautiful as you are, and yes, the same applies to me
Our love is beautiful, as beautiful as its best definition could ever be
But there are things we cannot change, things that we cannot control
Perhaps we can be try to be beautiful together in the next eternity

Come dance with my ghost
Pull the trigger
And dance with me
I don’t want to haunt you
I don’t want to be alone anymore
I left you
Now don’t let me leave your mind
My life is ended
But yours is just beginning
Why

when you hear your alarm go off the first time,
and then the second time,
and the third you finally open your eyes to
find yourself surrounded by the same four walls as yesterday -
it's okay if you press snooze again.
it's okay to go back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you're putting on your mascara,
and then your eyeliner,
and all the other crap that makes you feel pretty -
it's okay if you cry it all off.
it's okay to go back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you're putting on your favourite jeans,
and your comfy sweater,
and they just don't fit the same as they used to
because you're not the same as you once were -
it's okay to try something different.
it's also okay to just go back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you're walking down the hallway to your first class,
and then your second one and it's all just as dreadful,
and you can't concentrate on anything other than
just picking up one foot after the other, just getting there -
it's okay to just be present physically for today, if that's all you can manage.
but maybe, it would be okay if you just went back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you get home and your mom calls you for dinner,
once, twice, and three times,
but you're just not hungry and you're not sure you can
keep up the stone face you've been wearing all day -
it's okay to ask her to save some for you to have later.
just go back to bed, just give yourself some room to breathe.

but  you don't.

every day, you fight the same battle.
and if it feels like you're not making any progress,
just remember that you didn't go back to bed -
and you could have -

**but you didn't.