Waiting for you is like waiting to die.
Slow and heavy,
like a reoccurring bad dream.

This is my nightmare.
It's as if every moment was painted meticulously
by my own mind.

It's a perfect mess

And you?
You best be careful my dear,
for your true colors are making a comeback.

As are mine,
i dont learn.

There was once a song that
spoke of home.
Where wood settled, and memories filled every wall.
Unbreakable,
our roots pierced deep.

This home was north,
and north was you.

I always knew where to find it,
and without it I am lost.
Without a direction life feels wrong,
all while my heart is certain you are the half i need.

Hope is my Achilles heel,
as i wait for a home that no longer welcomes me.

I hear it,
and see it.
I am aware of it, and I will always find comfort in it.

But i don't feel it?
frankly i do not feel a whole lot anymore

Your steady breathe whispers into my ear.
         Cradled and fast asleep,
         you leave me defenseless.

A little bean that sprouted a whole new world into my heart,
         peacefully resting,
with every exhale only making the roots pierce deeper.

Soon your roots will desire new grounds,
traveling further than i can house.
          A universe of possibility awaiting your
          beautiful mind.

What am I if not a lifeline.
Silence on a somber ride home.
A quiver in a corner.

What am I if not your purpose,
for I am otherwise of no use.

The walls cave, whilst the ground seems to grow.
Enough room for a hundred men,
yet with no air to breathe.

I glance around at all the space i so desperately desired,
coming to terms with the idea that the more, in fact,
does not imply the merrier.
One can be given water the width of an ocean,
yet only have the shallowest of waters

The tide is low whilst the sun takes its routine leave.
Crisp air surrounds what once was so warm,
deceitfully sheltering away my everything.

The countdown begins,
as i await for the worst of it to be over.
Patience is my comfort, for anything else would elongate the absence.

its complicated.
To be both oppressed and secluded.
Held captive in a life you do not desire,
whilst also being so unwelcome.
Ignored but watched over.
pushed away yet tied down.
To be given the tools to do anything,
but stripped from your limbs so that
all you can do is watch.
Watch the world around you radiate with colors,
colorblind.
Dreaming of the day you too can struggle to
find independence, never to complain
of being left out to fend for yourself.

'Its complicated' you tell them.

Yet here also, a burden.
A divider between happiness and the longing to do better.
Why?
I couldn't tell you even if i wanted to.
Trapped yet simultaneously destroying my keepers
sanity without having to lift a finger.

The world muffles as a sweet melody
takes over.
Emotions emerge, yet old friends return anew,
and my mind wanders.

Going through the motions like I've programmed myself to do
a million times before,
what all once came so naturally to me, so robotic now.
The feeling of desirable connection dissolving into
the drops that patter onto my windshield.
Cuddled in the warmth, yet feeling soaked in the cold rain all the same.
I cannot pinpoint when exactly this leak formed,
but this rusty car is starting to give.

Its all in due time till this shelter wont do no good no more,
as a new home awaits my shivering body from this storm.

Dreams are beautiful.
Hopes and aspirations that can be chosen to be
shared with those who matter.
Never to be confused with concrete promises, yet still
holds just as much significance.

Dreams give perspective,
a perspective that maps out our futures and gives
motivation to the great absolute.
It shows ourselves what matters most,
and allows us to narrow our current views to achieve them.

I hope to never stop dreaming,
and to never confine my dreams due to hesitation.

Corners gleam,
as the cloak of transparency offers shelter.
Sunshine glazes over coffee cups,
the warm orange glow coating the smiles of strangers.
A land full a promise so feebly hidden away,
screaming for destruction.

Laughter fills the room as vibrations and auras
distract from a world full of animosity,
a temporary dome lasting just one more sunset.

i hate you.
i hate that i care more deeply than you,
and miss more thoroughly.
i hate that you have substances.
i hate that substances make you tolerate a life without me.
i hate being away from you.
i hate that you don't even notice the time that passes when you're away.
i hate loving you,
Because i know it isn't the same for you.
i hate you.

Comfort eases into the room as
Your embrace offers what you feel i desire,
Yet i lay with a lingering emptiness that consumes me.

Comfort radiates shallowness,
Which houses the distant that are occasionally granted a turn to peek through the curtains.
Comfort's stench offers a cheap line to conclude nothing can be done to lead to a solution.
Comfort, in turn, concludes to love with limitations.

Sitting near the ledge, I listen.
Earthly sounds fill the silence that once anticipated
something more.
The coos of the bluebirds whisper a language unknown
to the weary, whilst i lay deep into my own mind.
Yearning for the echo of you, I listen, as silence
fills the air once more.

Perfection.
The common ground to most,
the ideal noun.
As we lay, this is the word I think of,
perfection.
But you have a different word,
a word very far from what I imagined,
and life begins to once again reveal its true colors.
My vision blurs as silence fills the air,
and we drift to sleep.

I hear the echo of my own voice bounce back to me.
I stare at your blank face,
receiving no sense of verification that I, nor you, even exist.
I try again to reiterate my thought but by then you have moved on,
Something i have deemed too familiar.
You speak,
I listen.
Yet my mind is stuck in this perforated space in time,
where whimsical stories fill the air, the unrealistic fables we cling onto so dearly slowly becoming more translucent now.
I blink and I'm back,
Along with the everlasting inscrutable look I call home.

Happiness is a peculiar thing.
Desired by all, but comes in so many different designs that understanding every soul is nearly impossible.
Yet here i am, understanding that you make me happy,
but also coming to terms with the fact that what brings you happiness in turn destroys my own.
And here i lay left with a thought;
Do i have the right to despise what makes you happy, if I get you in return?
Or am I just disappointed that me alone does not satisfy you the way you satisfy me.

The pit of my stomach aches.
I force myself into another thought but it's no use, my safe haven is slowly filling with the blackest of smoke.
I shrivel as the sea of realities i reluctantly shoved away,
depriving them of the oxygen they so desired in order to thrive,
fill every crevice.
And just like that I'm consumed, my soul stripped away for yet another restless night.

I'm uncomfortable.
I'm uncomfortable with myself,
my body,
even sometimes my own personality.
Nonetheless, you encourage me that there is nothing to be afraid of,
and that I'm beautiful, it's all just a part of human nature you repeat.
I cower, and you question why anxiety is winning a battle so easy for you,
making me feel so small against the giant inside my head.
But how can one scold me for my anxiety for feeling so uncomfortable with touch, and the physical presence of someone else, when emotionally i barely know anything about you.
You're uncomfortable with the way you feel, what you feel,
and how you feel of the ones around you.
How can someone make such comments on me being uncomfortable when emotionally your battle is just as great.
How can i feel so obliged to win this battle when on your end you're doing nothing but throwing sticks?
I can't let go if you yourself continue to build your skyscraper of a wall to the sun and back,
only questioning I as though you are not guilty to the same crime.
And that is why this will never be, we will never be.
If I have to scratch into your soul and pull out what's most precious to you, then I don't want it, because it clearly does not belong to me.
I want to be given the most difficult, treasured pieces of you without asking, without hesitation.
To be given this just because you love me and want to share your entire being with me.
That,
that is when i will do the same.

For the meantime,
I feel like a puppet being used as just an object at play.
To satisfy your needs as if I am deserving of no such thing.
How can one be so consumed in their own desires they cannot tell that the person they hold so dearly is suffocating in their own toxic sea of love they allowed into their heart,
slowly filling their lungs till it is too late to scream for help.
Dear it is not that i do not love you with all my being,
it is that you do not.