Take off your shoes
because she didn’t want
any traces of the dirt
leftover from the days you spent without her.
Drops, from the water
that night that you had drowned
in the lights of the ocean
with other souls.

take off your jacket because
her perfume is still stained
on the collar.

They parted
She left because he always looked down.
He left because she always looked up.

Of course she always looked up,
meaning she would pass strangers faces
and follow life through it’s guide.
It was only she who tasted the stars and the sun and the moon.
She could look at who spoke when she chose to listen,
and looked at smiles and floated through souls.
And read herself to esacpes,
understood brush strokes which formed the art that whispered to her through the rhythmAnd was bitten with dreams
and was thirsty to drown in every ocean she could.

Yet he still never looked up.
He never seen her fully
nor did he discover what was above, infront of her.

She left because she knew
when she looked up,
She was still tied down to his roots.
So she caressed a knife, cutting herself free.

When she looked above now,
her eyes were open brighter and her soul blushed at the winds.
Roots at her feet grew and planted themselves wherever she pleased.

As she left he was blind,
For it was the first time he ever looked up at the stars.

But it was the last time he would ever look up
To see her leave.

Stop being such a cacti.
I’m only trying to move you into sunlight,
to let you learn, grow.

You were such a cacti
because you peirced me with your blunt needle.
yet I still bled,
because it still peirced me through, and skimmed my bloodflow.
I didn’t cry
because I realised that is just simply you.

You were such a cacti
when I tried to water you, my dear.
I only wanted to keep you alive
keep you radiating.
Keep you, as you.

This time,
your dagger imapled me.
From my finger and gushed into my left chest.
I now understand you
because you won’t hesitate to grow without my nurture,
and won’t hesitate to peirce with my love.

you could say that
she is the moon that hides in daylight’s glory.
the moon at night when you see no other light.
the torch on your phone when it was late and alone.

But she was
silenced by your presence
awake by your absence.

you are the words flouncing out her hands
shapes from her pencil.
music when you were bored of speech.
direction when you glanced at a compass.
a match you sparked when you lost your lighter but needed smoke.

she will be his sun in the morning
stars at night.
for you will be her eclipse when she wanted less light.