She plays the guitar just off key because you promised that it wouldn't hurt to mess up once in a little while. Strangely enough, you have a hard time keeping promises but you did warn her from the start. You warned her gently with a slight smile as waves of precaution and worry resided in her eyes, you taught her the art of gently shrugging it off.  She plays the instrument  just like you taught her to before you parted ways with sights that were so familiar. Familiarity is a hand-made jacket that you shrugged off without a second thought, without a second glance. While she had just learnt the act of playing along.

and i knew from the moment your side was rested against mine, i would have a hard time letting go.
yet nothing prepared me for the unsettling feeling that greets me as i'm enveloped by materials i've yet to call my own and the lack of warmth and pulse admittedly feels stranger than usual and it's only been five days. it's literally only been five days
days which label themselves as weeks flutter past like pages  caught in the wind, like eyelashes blinking to the pace of your heart and the feeling remains, it remains better than an iodine stain on your neatly pressed blouse. it's probably stirring your contents page up too
the unsettling feeling of red umbrellas unsheathed in which they make it an ambition to contrast with the inconsistent hues of the sky
contrasting flashes of lightning against the pale sheet i'm told to call my skin. flesh i clothe my hollow bones in to prevent them from trembling with your thoughts that bring chills like the wind
rays of light dance at the edges of each outline my eyes are drawn to as they are drawn downwards like gravity grasping a waterfall
there are tan-lines of words in paragraphs you wish you knew how to forget, baby, we all have them.
can't place a name let alone a colour for you to fit amongst the colour wheel you dangle on your fingertips to create the things that you do, on the thoughts that jazz around to tunes i'm sure we've heard together at some point of time with varying surroundings
skys that stretch into the horizon with your name etched in the clouds









maybe i could have loved you more.

you've always been the fool thinking that you made words beautiful, thinking you gave them purpose, thinking that you sculpted them with your sandpaper tongue as you carved down their imperfections
when in reality, it was the very same words that made you beautiful in my eyes, the sickly sweet delusion i've entrapped myself in like a firefly in your crystal jar of thoughts
you can't spark a fire within me with well rehearsed words and perfected lines from any old script only to leave me out to dry

There was a boy, a boy who brightened up my day on a continuous basis. Like a rainbow after the storms that shook the seas within my aching, fragmented heart. He picked the pieces up and kept them all for himself leaving me with open palms.
He strung each vein to capillary around his wrists, binding himself with my hardships even though I tried to pull away. Even when I attempted I felt worst off every day without him. I realized after trying to push him away – like the waves trying to divide themselves from the individual particles that laid along in clusters. It was almost impossible to escape him seeing how the monstrosity has engulfed me whole.
It was like the veins trailing from my wrists where his guitar strings to play, a one way highway to the ***** that kept me alive. It hurt, it hurt a lot. I hated him for i—no despised him for it.
I despised him knowing the fact that he could pick the ripest apple off the tree.... and yet, he picked me for some unknown reason. It hurt me, cheating him in such a manner, blinding him with my caring tone. It hurt me because I cared an over-spilling ocean for him, I cared too much. That was my real problem.
I never expected anyone to care nor love me, I never expected someone to make this feel this way – wanting to wake up to see the sunrise, knowing we were watching the same one. Wishing I was there, just close enough, to run my fingers through his hair and shield him from every sore and every demon he hid so well behind that mask.
I never expected anyone to make me realise the beauty I display, seeing how each mirror is a curse, each flaw is a bone slowing rusting and corroding as if it was made of metal like what I used to believe my heart was.
I blocked everything out knowing no one could ever love a silhouette like me, just a reflection of what I used to be, filled to the brim with only despair and self-hatred. A dam between me and the world, holding the Omni present emotions that slowly built up at every mistake, every flaw, every breath. It was over-whelming, being choked – suffocated, just a head above the water’s surface.
Its as if he has me bound by his strings, only to play puppeteer and an amateur surgeon to my heart which was by the way – already messed up.
It’s as if he held the remedy within his palm and yet the is cause of the infection numbing and devouring my brain. 
How we fell into this inevitable despair which is like as if I'm trapped within a glass, transparent fish tank.
 You're on the other side of the glass, hand to hand - almost close enough to touch and yet so very far away. I can almost imagine the way your breath would feel, felt on my skin.
 But, something's wrong. You're facing away from me, deep in thought as always.
The only difference to that is the odd expression you have imprinted on your darling face. No-- it cant be, it's the expression of lost. The kind you'd expect to see on the woman of the skies who had the moon just within grasp but slipped and lost her balance. You turn away, out pressed palm retreating once more into the depths just like the way you retreated emotionally from me. I did all I really could, try to grind my nails into the solid glass in attempt to pry you away from the consuming darkness, in attempt to get you safe from all the demons roaming within your mind.
I miss him but I'll never be able to tell him that. For the time is now, it's time to unbind my wings. It's my turn -- to say goodbye. To say goodbye... to someone who will never return into my embrace.

3 and a half years from now, if our fingers are no longer intertwined, i know i'll see you someday at the bar down the road. i'd imagine you to be taller but donned with the grin i've grown to love as you pass me in the hallways. you owe me a drink anyway

with you, with you it feels like i'm going places - not that i have a destination in mind but usually i can't see past the finish line, but i can't see the finishing line with you. let alone a path off of the shore as the waves crashes against our ankles. but here i am, ashore caught between letting go and running to higher ground and i all see the sunset caught in your eyes. we both can't swim but at this point does it really matter? years from now, maybe they'll be cafés we've sat across the table from each other, whispers in the dark in cinemas as pictures dance across the screen. dancing like how two figures will attempt to one day. different sceneries and cities with a familiar face. little fairy lights decking the ceiling for countless of miles to go but all i can see is the moonbeam resting against your cheek.

i want to hold your hand at hospitals.
i want to kiss you at airports.
i want your scent against my skin.
i want to forget how to stay sober with you.

i would like to forget sometimes, in this dazed illusion you're one of the few things that seems to stay vivid around me. a glimpse of sunlight in the moonlight

you're the outline in blue tracing commotion in my mind.

fades in. there's laughter and cheers found amidst the new ties between the two that multiplies into an odd number of 5. it's late with dim lighting, character 1 takes shelter with character 2. conversations that are kept for caffeine indulging individual ensue. they mumble about their fears and thoughts and pacify each other with sentences that caress ankles like waves. end scene.

cut to the early morning scene that trails onto the lunch time crowds, character 1 and 2 interlinked regardless of how fast the clock ticks. promises about the water being thicker than blood made and hands held before the bell rang. native and young fingers, interlocked, close. 'i'll see you later.' only one word could be used to describe that tone - vibrant like a shade used to describe sunflowers. end scene.

times past like old photographs piling up to my knees on the ground and the scene it fades in different hues and voices. not the familiar ones that belonged to a multiple of 2. no, they're sitting across the hall oblivious to the electricity running beneath us. same faces with different stories while i took my leave, the prolonged leave that continues as my absence runs from a sick leave to an exit. i think about it from time to time, the water in my palms weigh more than the blood running through these veins. stories with alternate endings that continue to exist despite putting the book away, end scene.

cue flashback that's tainted with a days old dust, i looked at the pale blue ocean swirling beneath us like the hidden tales buried. emotions locked away by those who turn a blind eye and are too caught up with their bargaining of the 'fittest' competitions. the place i used to hold on the shelf, removed for bits and pieces of lives around me being carried out without the main protagonist. the waves stayed as they slowly became nothing but a smudge on a watercolour canvas, like the small mark you all left on my existence. no chances to say goodbye even though i practiced it to myself, under my breath from time to time. it falls out of my mouth and lands oddly. never expected but then again is anything really ever? the silence was the print on the answer sheet that the group left in my mind, filling up the void that now takes it place.
the distance between us      and me.
voice like a overused tire by the roadside, not to be missed as is drowned out by the rapid voices that fall into place like a waterfall. as we left that island behind it was really just me who left it all behind, ties broken, water spilt into puddles on the pavement. ‘goodbye.’, voice is soft and isn't heard by those surrounding, not like it ever was to begin with. fade out.

(((( water evaporates, blood leaves a stain))))
knives pressed into my spine is nearly like a regular tune that comes on through my headphones. fear that cripples the living daylight out of me and resolves with me living in the darkness for a week odd. unexpected, once more. then again wasn't morals plastered with words in neon encoding, 'expect the unexpected'. played me out better than a monopoly game and faster than a game of UNO.
detached and without a cause, lacking the need to put on a life jacket to face the indigo currents that leave a bruise in a similar hue.
roll the credits boys, there's nothing to see here.
trying repeatedly was one-sided and drenched in thoughts of my own that formed clouds above your head that was rooted to the ground. i am so out of breath trying to race through makeshift bright-light stores in the night when it fuels your adrenaline and it's just a chase. it's a one way tug-of-war and no one's trying to win me over. wouldn't want anyone to shower on your beach cocktail party now, would we? an emotional imbalance would be such a bother. unable to mimic your laughs but to sympathise with your cries in the bitter nights. disappearing faster than it hits the pond's surface without a trace, nobody remembered nor tried to fish it out with a net of memories.
it's 2am and i can't even hear myself think and --
the whole routine of silhouettes watching me take my leave without any say reminds me of the insignificance present through my veins. no requests to stay for a few days, a week maybe and hopefully even longer. maybe people wind up being more important to me than i am to them.

i’m not another ****** card for your deck
and bothering and trying is just
         another leap off a possible cliff except you have a blindfold around your eyes
you may not know this
but its cutting into your skin
and the drops in mood seem steeper each time i return to this rabbit hole, just before it gets too dark

is it really worth trying so ******* a continuous basis when your wings have been clipped ages ago



why do we even bother
      then again why am i speaking on behalf of you?
         why do i even bother
             it’s always thunderstorms and rain with an occasional glimpse of sunshine that seems to be a welcoming party for the hurricane
                   to think that i manage to mask my emotions so well i’m nearly fooled into thinking the same frightens me a bit
take for granted to an extent i’ve become indifferent despite the fact it’s still behind my eyes

close to malfunctioning but i can’t get it out of my system
it’s like grasping sand in your palms and all you can do is observe as each grain slips from between your fingers - a great descent
it’s just the reoccurring feel of never being good enough i do suppose
  whatever y’know