they say you withhold galaxies within you, underneath your skin and interwoven with your flesh
the stars caught within your veins, the milky way found inside your blood stream

they also say nobody can hear you scream in space
so maybe thats why when it’s dark at night and you’re questioning yourself,
the final draw,
the silent hour.

you’re facing the bleak ceiling and screaming, you raise your pitch and yet nobody can hear a sound

you’re alone
lost in space.

explain to me why destruction is considered an art?
if i were you, i’d find a way to fight it.
as if destruction was an abstraction to describe to one’s self in a physical installation for all to see in a rarely visited gallery
we lock the doors because we are ashamed of the critics marking and making spiteful points as they leave red marks all over the walls
almost as if the surfaces were like a test paper without any attempt of answering or the tear and wear of the skin you bare

it was always war that we wouldn't label with a numeral to go down in the big books. instead, we whispered it under the sheets. we posted our thoughts on anonymous accounts that go hand in hand with a little lock sign in the corner. we used thunder in our words knowing that reaction that resulted resembled lightning.

as if a tattered canvas could make up for your bruised and battered soul

here’s my advice ; leave the doors unlocked just for a day, you might be surprised at what you find

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

it’s roughly 11:29pm and i have you roaming around in my mind, then again what else is new?
i can imagine you humming along to these tunes while you tangle your fingers in my already so easily tangled hair and i’d count the minutes you spend trying to untangle yourself from me - limbs and all while you’re at it
before you left you made it a point to tell me about how i was like the light of your day and maybe i just might have imagined the caffeine scent that hangs over every single word that spills out of your beautiful mouth in that ridiculous accent of yours.        you’re ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.                                   i love the way you make shades of blue seem more vivd and i love the way it curves in to rest against my shoulders as i find inklings of you along the sleeves, almost as if you’re right here next to me. i’d fall asleep in an ocean with dreams as succulent as honey oozing from your lips, catching myself saying ‘good morning’ to a silhouette as i realise that i just may have left just enough space for you to slip your arms around my waist as you pull me close enough to rid the glass between our eyes

i’d like for that to happen again sometime, if you don’t mind and i’m sure you don’t judging by your sleepy murmurs that i manage to piece a ‘i wish you were laying here next to me’, out of when you dial me.

you asked me if i was angry at you, repeatedly, oddly enough you can’t help yourself on fridays. i brushed it off with a laugh and a roll of my eyes because you fail to realise that i could never stay angry at you because well, you make me feel so much more than that
[bullet train of emotions just rush into the gateway of my heart every time i lay my eyes on you]
anger is just my daily attire but you make me want to change into something new and that’s why i am so in love with you
so very
in love with you.

maybe i’ll tell you when you ask me if I’m mad at you some friday of a week.

new years day, only someone like you would plan something right out of a reality television show and i wouldn’t switch channels to be honest, your heartbeat on my left as you leaned in and i don’t remember if i shut my eyes when yours graced mine but it was my first time and i know i play the blind card to it but i remember what exactly it felt like and how my heart was jumping out of chest and how you were trembling right against me as i asked you to kiss me again
[its been a few months and i still hesitate at the thought of kissing you because i’m so afraid of tripping up somewhere but it doesn’t make me want it any less because sometimes i feel like your sugar laced sweet every things could spill into me and i’d never forget how special you make me feel]
yes, i am aware that its ‘sweet nothings’ but anything you say means everything to me and maybe i don’t say it enough but the chance of you choking over my sweet abyss wasn’t a factor i would definitely let it slip out once in a while
you’ve asked me to describe what your scent was and well who would i be to say? i mean sure your scent clings onto my jacket no matter how many times it takes a spin in the wash almost like the thought of you contrasting against the carnival of fairy tale blue fairy lights i hang by the side of my bed, i’d like to imagine that you do the same, i’d like to imagine that you flip through the words left stranded in those pages i’ve spent days rewriting and taking minutes of my day to ensure that you’ll be able to read it - whenever you feel the blue from your clothes painting your spirit, i’d like to imagine that you curled up with your jacket at dusk the same way i did as i tried to dissect parts of me from you only to find that i really couldn’t
it’s the next day and 11:50pm, but you’re still on my mind,
“you’re like the light of my day i can’t get you out of my head sometimes,”

sometimes i flinch when someone makes contact with my side and my shoulders but for a second i think that it just might be you cause’ i’m so used to you pressed up so close to me as you run your nails down my side in the darkness that swallows me whole late at night as you pull me closer eyes still on the screen ahead of us as i learn to let go and take your palm in mine, running my fingers over yours delicately just to remind myself that you are here and you are mine and that this moment is ours and ours alone like the others i’d store in the attic of my mind whereby i’d use the fireflies as light to read off the water colouring you’ve left in my mind.

i know you’ve never called me yours apart from that one time whereby i couldn’t differentiate between the sincerity caught between the tides of those flamboyant words of yours that entraps me with every breath as i submerge under the tides.

bury me underground with your sweet talk because darling we both know there's tons of it to go around
as plentiful as the soil found in your backyard, both you never gave a second thought about
say it in a nonchalant way as if you really couldn't care less if i was caught in the storm

lie to me! let me delude myself for a moment!
give me a reason to wallow in my own ditch, the one i dug for the big bad wolf i heard that was coming this way
i was free falling, i lost my bearings on the ground as the omega and alpha diluted with each other forming a shade of indigo

indigo.

indigo reminds me of the sunsets we used to see, the occasional yet daily coat the sky would drape itself in
but as if it got tired of the same old same old shade! same old story that has just begun after it the last page was flipped.

so here i stand, tracing the sky. trying to find that familiar hint of indigo, just to have something to grasp onto
it's gone and all is lost. lost and gone like many things i used to parade around my backyard because all the eyes I needed was mine.
i didn't require permission or say, acceptance for whatever i beheld. i didn't require a panel of judges with set opinions no matter
how many times i changed the game!

i had you and that was something i lost in the storm. regretfully. necessarily.
i could search the woods once more  from treetop to the smooth bottoms of azure blue pebbles or i could learn the art of letting go.
in all my emptiness i am trapped in this sun bleached room once more


i can't ever take you there or show it to you but i can tell you what it feels like if you lean in close and just. listen.

it's like i'm trapped within an ice cube but there's nothing there to trap me, it's cold. cold and lonely you could say.


hold on,
let me just grab my suitcase full of nothing.

it was too dark for me to notice that you were holding my hand ; leading me along the path into the bleakness i thought was all my own
you're lovely but you don't know it
even if the wind was caught in your hair or perhaps the snowflakes were kissing your near-azure lips ; i'd still think of you all the same

i'll light a candle and stay by your backdoor in case you ever need an escape despite the countless times you've told me to stay away
i’ll stay because.
because. well, as bittersweet as it may seem in the eyes of you, you've awoken me from the pits of hell. saved me from the oceans of tears.
the reflection my eyes find themselves watching is much different from the year old pictures hidden away in my closet
different in the good way, in the better person manner. i see light in the darkest hours and yet you constantly fail to realise it.

all you see is the destruction surrounding you and yet you've forgotten how you're the reason why we all still believe
we all still believe in plan b, or an escape exit. because there will always be a way out no matter how deep the trench you find yourself in
you see, you've forgotten. you've forgotten our history, our memories. You've forgotten it all!

You've forgotten me.

and so i'll wait amongst the shadows for you by the door around the back.
the door we both knew about but never used.

baby, let me be your escape plan.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

Listen here sweetheart, you might want to wipe off the excessive lipstick with the back of your hand while tugging your ridiculously short skirt down. Don't think for a millisecond that just because you have a pretty face -- something that doesn't look like the smashed up average and a pity story that some may cry to, you'll get everything you want. You're running around the whole world while thinking it runs around you. You can't just play your cards like that, pretending to be a girl who drinks moonlight tequilas when in reality you're nothing less than a pretentious child, aspiring for a new identity. Don't tell me you're the heart breaker when in reality your hearts been shattering too soon and most probably emptied down the drain. You might have a pretty face but I know better, I know your tendency to break everything you touch -- the child in the candy shop -- much too greedy for her own good. In the words of the boy whose lips are made out of fine china, 'she's poison', he was shattered by you some time ago and honestly I've been staying up late trying to nurse him back. You stand at the side of the street lights, gazing up at the fluorescent lights from below as your choke on your cigarette. The smoky breath so many desire despite the reused lips, the kind that simply won't keep to themselves. You keep forgetting that the lack of clothing isn't going to be able to shield your lack of humanity from the water splashed by the cars zipping by you. The ones who knows better than to stay.

only ever caught a glimpse of love off of your windshield
nothing more than a reflection

closest encounter of such was when the windscreen shattered upon intimacy,
leaving these….. bruises i can’t get over

a colour somewhere in between azure and lavender that remains unclassified and unlabelled as of now
things without a name, like majority of the past and various faces.
i’ll admit i’ve lost sight of some.

some i’ve spent trying to recollect in contrast of being haunted by various locations i’ve yet to gather the courage to re-encounter
unavoidable, i’ve learnt.
too many to count using just two hands.


you’ve sewn the teensy bits of sadness in between your fingers
if anything they’re filling the gap that managed to find its way to you
scarred and bruises but darling you look fine, if not better off.

when it’s your time to go, wouldn’t you want the cuts to show?

nearly 2am calls on the topic of young and reckless love that what was once lost - now found
this love, the beholder another one who shall remain unnamed — faceless as of now
love, she traces on the back of her hand in the same manner he did just the other night
the stars unfolding in front of both pairs of eyes, the ones he put up in the sky for his maiden
refund love, an old flame rekindled by warmth and something more
the lost girl accompanied in the woods by a face she’s grown to love dearly
neither of which will find their way out of the darkness that envelopes them, their presence keeping each other company
young and blossoming love, left grow into something beautiful if untouched by the gardeners

love is such a silly thing isn’t it?

he’s going to shatter you like porcelain in his obvious ways but who i am to comment on a tale just out of my reach?
maybe i’m mistaken, maybe i’m just awake at 3am thinking of a reason, an explanation
memories bottled into pills are hard to swallow when they contrast ever so brightly like neon against the pale reality
of what could be, had been and never will be

don’t get me wrong, i’m delighted for you as you’re crowned in all your splendour as glittering rays of light dance on your skin
you’ll find yourself smearing on lipstick for somebody else as you continuously lose the person you’re staring at in the mirror
like a harsh and bitter bite, your downfall will teach you to never love again


and i am afraid.

following your heart as if a flight of birds were the only trace of memory of something that was amiss (you)
but something taught in fairytales how wronged it is
how wronged the feeling of what was supposedly fate
some bitter sweet written fairytale without an ending in sight
this dilemma i must face does indeed bring me disgrace
and I’m sorry
horribly sorry
maybe i’ve got a hole in my head where everything waterfalls in and drips out slowly
taking
its
own
sweet
time

fruit tea in hand i am exposed to the wilderness of the light misplaced in the night
taking shelter in some temporary cafe soon to be gone
just by a few months
like us, most probably

mixture of emotions i can’t quite comprehend
nonetheless the hues and tones all blended together like lemon juice
makes the palette very sour
like the taste buds of your tongue when you snap at me
and i  don’t put up a fight
words take flight before tomorrow even makes its stand

the sun washes and spills like watercolour
and i’m alone in this coffee shop just off the road







maybe the concept of love is unbelievably hard for someone like me to grasp
so eager to fall so quick to lose the game
when all i’ve ever seen is the quick glimpse of love on my broken television screen
static and all
the path chosen in the path to go
the only picture i’ve ever had of this mystical thing was from a blind artist
so beautiful in his work and yet everything’s nearly see through

boy with his dozens of crowns
nose in the air
the beautiful boy i love.

though i’d like to crush glass bottles with my palms
boy with words of ecstasy, vibrant as  peacocks
electric blue
but i’m not a poet of love of any kind.

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.

turquoise jagged blue streaks against her fore-arm, some would believe it to be from the multiple shots of continuous melancholy she swallowed drip by drop almost coloured like the underside of cyan nearly opaque seashells the tone she’d flicker in and out like the rays of light only paler -- in hopes of finding, all the while searching.

searching for what, you question? what to search for, you’ll continue to question without punctuation to cut. you. off. mid. sentence.

she never spoke breath fainter than the splash of dull watercolour you’d leave against your canvas, the one you never brought home.
collecting dust above her eyelids the pair that kept the blackened inverted world shut and disclosed. curtains without colour of any sort be it blue or red, it lacked the hues you could have used when you left home for the weekend.

weekends were fire escapes the kind that you’d paint a shade of moon one that catches like nearly a reflection you were and still are replacing with your shadow the one that darts outta the door each time steps are heard creeping in.

you can’t leave me if it was never meant to be.

nothing too rigid but he was able to cup it within his palms
it caught the light and reflected it into his eyes
as pure as a candle without being lit
no one will ever know        until today
and the rest is still stuck in my mind
brick foundations shaped into pins
struck by what was once so dear
misfortune never misses
even if you did miss her grand entrance

we all know greed will fade to gold
a face like stone
the pain begins to show
he’d never admit
the existence of splinters
made from holding onto an illusion too tight
an illusion thats turn to ashes
up in flames
memories sizzling away like the seconds it takes
for you to walk towards me
on the way back home
better catch up
aren’t we both equals now?
i asked you once,

“are you mine?
     or just mine to hold?”

once and never again.

our last hope i threw to the beggars along the cold streets in order to get a couple of looks of approval
oh i never know how much i let you down
but its coming back around

i’d rearrange parts of our living room
but the ceiling will come crashing down
regardless,

i feel you in every heartbeat
the beats i won’t feel against my chest
the howls so inanimate
of the wind
the cries have been replaced by remembrance and a void
i void i can’t replace
can’t replicate

i read your name on every wall
tell me is there a cure for anything at all
and if there is a cure
would you let me apply it
to the wounds
the gunshots this rifle has created
will you let me apply it to the scars
and will it take them away
let me go back to yesterday


we’ve got no place to go
we’ve got no where to run
they’ve all got loaded guns
oh no, please god tell me we’re dreaming

i’ve come apart and      you made me

love is crooked lines. love is eyes that sting. love is short people tiptoeing. possibly the smell of a forest fire. love is the waves crashing against the shore. the sky changing hues. a watercolour palette with all the neon colours now blue. love is pairs of birds above us, fleeing from the cold. or maybe a curtained window blocking our view of the world. be my guest, interlock fingers. kiss rosy cheeks.  light the bridges. pay to be on board a shipwreck. love is you in the hallway, asking me to leave. love is okay, i'll go soon. love is you're right, i'll go now.

drawn to the street lamps along the road, against the darkness our faces lit up without any recognisable emotion.
deep down inside we were running, we were singing, singing to ourselves so nobody else could hear a sound.
selfish in that odd way, then again could you blame us? every visible cloud nine always seems to collect tears of the fallen.
no, this was our secret haven. it was a little bit too quiet, a little bit too silent but it was ours.
take my hand, indulge in the silence. it'll just be us and that'll be alright. sure, it might be a little chilly, but we've got each other
and this light, this light that we can't contain but yet others overlook. look at those cars driving by without a second thought!
they're all rushing home to their bits and pieces trying to convince themselves that they're living.
we both can see through the fog, we're the few that actually live. the few that can taste the breath of fresh air
empty your lungs, it's good to feel alive after all this while.  even if it's just us, amongst the others.
a speck of  sliver tinted paint against the lime walls,
sure, you feel like you're dying half the time but just take my hand, just for tonight. just for tonight we're alive.

IVE BRUISED MY KNEES A SHADE OF SUN-KISSED INDIGO ATTEMPTING TO CRAWL AFTER YOU ON THIS UNMARKED TRAIL YOU PICKED OFF-HANDEDLY FROM THE MAP YOU KEEP IN YOUR BACK POCKET. I'VE SUNKEN SO DEEP THE TRENCHES HAVE BECOME THE SECOND HOME I SHARE WITH CREATURES OF THE NIGHT, THE ONE'S MY MOTHER TAUGHT ME TO FEAR. THERES ONE SHES OVERLOOKED, THERES ONE IVE OVERLOOKED AND ITS BEEN STARING AT ME IN THE FACE UNBLINKINGLY. I BLEED CONSTELLATIONS, THE ONLY DIFFERENCE FROM THE PAST OF MY SHADOW IS THAT SHE DID IT FOR YOU AND IM ONLY DOING SO RIGHT NOW WELL BECAUSE THE SKY'S A LITTLE EMPTY AND IT'S HARD TO FIND MY FOOTING IN THE DARKNESS, WITHOUT A JAR WITH THE HEARTS OF COLLECTED FIRE-FLIES THAT YOU KEPT AROUND YOUR NECK. WHERE MINE USED TO BE. I WONT BRUISE FOR YOU. NOT TODAY, NOT TOMORROW. NOT EVER. I AM SO MUCH MORE THAN THIS.

your fingers are caught in my hair and honestly i don't quite mind.
as long as it keeps you here and the distance within centimetres, everything'll be perfectly fine.
we'll be perfectly fine, or at least we'll find a way to convince ourselves
find a way to convince ourselves that we'd hold onto each other while we're caught almost this mad and utterly brilliant world.
and when you build a wall to keep yourself safe, don't forget to install a window.

it'll be a pity to forget how the sun never fails to shine down on us each passing day while the moon bathes us in a ghostly glow
and i think of all of this, while your fingers are playing with my hair

you're lovely, so incredibly lovely and i wouldn't mind telling you this every second of the clock
maybe when you look at the stars and realise how their beauty can't compare to what you withhold, you might just believe it

we'll see, won't we?
we'll see if you promise to stay.

because I'll be sitting here, staying at the corner just off the main street near the alley where you left me

i’m not going anywhere soon