There are days when i cannot find the sun even when it's right outside my window
There are days that i feel like a puppet
with the strings on my back leading to nowhere
There are days when i feel like I've finally managed to run away from you when you turn up...making it clear that i was only running in circles
I wrote tales of you with my favorite felt pen across any piece of paper i could find because, i simply couldn't wait to put down the butterflies that you placed ever so gently at the pit of my stomach down
They flew back and forth and back and forth
a constant reminder of the person i could never have .
the person i dared to love.

How many masks do I have in my collection
until someone realises something is off?

How long does the party go on until
everyone goes home, strips off
and sees that not everything is
as lovely, as majestic as how
the lights, decorations and music
made it out to be?

How many more superhero costumes
are made until they save me, from me?

-m.b

The first time: A breath of steam, rising from a deep-toned, treacle brown liquid, turning darker by the minute as the leaves slowly steeped their essence into the scalding water, providing me energy enough to open my eyes... and look straight into the fogged glass, the first clear look of the world this day.

The second time: A tickle in my nose, rising in intensity, making my eyes scrunch in reflex. AAACHHOOOOO! I open my eyes, newly released from the lids that caged their sight, and see... fog.

The third time: A building frustration, a feeling of falling, trying to grasp all the responsibility given to me in less than an hour, and failing. Hopeless, I know, and useless as well, but I go though the day's events, each one compounding upon itself in my hindsight assisted by the salty water pooling in the corners of my eyes until I can't see anything at all... Oh wait. It's just the fog in my glasses.