each hour that I see you here, my heart starts to forget. all the times I could've held out my hand and when that something held me back. something, so minute: like a grain of sand or a sliver of light, that'd pull me into a chasm of remembrance, my hole of thought — my inner turmoil.

I'd remember how you'd embrace me with your hug of deceit and end it with your kisses of retreat. I'd remember how you'd shape the curves and ridges of my heart's making then poke it as if I was your little play toy. how you could toss and turn me just like my insomniac behaviour and get away like a thief in the shadow of the night. I'd remember your love for hate and how you thought I was your game, a taste of pyrrhic victory: your temporary satisfaction.

but as I see you walk through those doors, I remember my one regret:
that I learned to love your soul when you only chained me back.

we have rain today
the kind that collects
runs in small rivers
down the road
everything is dripping jewels
so needed say flowers
vehicles splash through puddles
sending sprays of rain
back into the air
but its summer rain
the refreshing kind
glad to be alive kind

She reads
                                          And she sleeps
                                                      Way too much
                                                            ­           It's her coping defence
                                                                ­               When nothing else will suffice
                                                         ­               She needs to get away
                                                       Without actually leaving
                                             Because she's too scared
                                   And too tired
                                            To leave her bed
                                                      So she cracks open a book
                                                            ­     To escape somewhere far away
                                                            ­             And she'll sob for the characters
                                                      ­                       Whose brokenness resembles hers
                                                            ­                                   And then she'll sleep
                                                           ­                                   And have sweet dreams
                                                          ­              Of realities that are not her own
                                                       Because pretending is so much easier
                                                 Than facing reality
                             So she'll sleep and dream
          And secretly wish she won't wake up
So she can finally escape

’Twas noontide of summer,
  And midtime of night,
And stars, in their orbits,
  Shone pale, through the light
Of the brighter, cold moon.
  ’Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
  Her beam on the waves.

  I gazed awhile
  On her cold smile;
Too cold—too cold for me—
  There passed, as a shroud,
  A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
  Proud Evening Star,
  In thy glory afar
And dearer thy beam shall be;
  For joy to my heart
  Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
  And more I admire
  Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.

why do we always choose negativity over being positive
we choose to have our thoughts drown us because
it is harder to swim
than
to
s
i
n
k

The clouds above us weep
at the sight of your departing footprints,
but don't fear, love, for
from these relentless tears,
beautiful flowers shall sprout
and the heavy goodbyes
that engraved your lonely footprints
will be replaced with
welcoming embraces
and the light laughter
of a new beginning.