your hand grasping mine weakly
plunging deeper in darkness' abyss
seeping through the cracks, my light can't penetrate
in utter disbelief, an unfortunate realization;

-you can't be fixed for i was merely your temporary fix not your medicine

you gave me peonies
freshly picked from the curb at the bus stop
the very first time we talked and you asked if we could be friends
and i was smiling the whole time, said "sure"

we met up in the middle of the night when i couldn't sleep,
we texted each other two hours prior
you gave me daisies from the beds planted on somebody's front lawn (which i later found out was your home);

now i admit they're my favorite from all the flower you've ever given me
even though i always teased you when you did (but of course they're all deeply appreciated)

when you confessed the feelings you've manifested for me,
and asked if i see 'us' going anywhere
i smiled and whispered in your ear "we can go anywhere we want to"

and since then you sent me more,
days with no occasion turned significant
dahlias, morning glories, jasmines, hyacinths (sometimes id surprise you as well)
lilies, chrysanthemums, tulips;

i kept them all and i reminisce all the jokes we made
about starting a business from our garden

we were lying upon rows and rows of daffodil in the middle of a starry night
hands intertwined,hearts inclined
amidst the thorns and the wilted flowers you said,
i made flowers bloom in your lungs and you picked and gave them to me; you said you wanted to spread the effervescence tickling your senses from the field in your mind everytime you thought of me (let the petals be the symbol of our love, you said)

you were my flowerboy

and now,
my soil coated nail beds bury these seedlings surrounding your grave
i threw all the flowers you gave me
dandelions, gerberas, roses, marigolds,gardenias ,baby's breaths,magnolias;
now they sleep in the ground in your eternal slumber

love im sorry
that all the flowers i planted in your lungs wilted,
the cause of your annihilation
sorry i couldn't keep them alive
sorry i couldn't keep you alive

but i know,
you'll watch over our sunflowers
and one day,
we'll be reunited and we'll be frolicking in a field of yellow

the ocean speaks to me in waves,
a contrast to its soft melodical vibrations bound in a seashell
it tells me not to drown
despite the toll of the anchor's weigh

lightning strikes and i pretend it's your arms
thunder shakes the ground reminding me of our violent ending
rain falls like the first time i felt the shattering our love beheld
find me underneath an entire sky so voracious;
im going to end up with hypothermia but it'll numb me from the absence of your arms

red car, yellow car, blue car, white car

no lucky black car, no orange to wish on

they just sat there for awhile on the edge of the rooftop, feet dangling looking at the rush of cars passing by playing the game they invented and derived from the tongue twister red lorry yellow lorry
if a black car passes by, luck will come through
spot the first green car and you pick the way you die
look for an orange car and make a wish

it was a game they played to **** time or whenever they went up the rooftop of the ballet studio they've been performing at since they were children and they were currently taking a break from swan lake rehearsals. they played the game for a little more though heather could tell that megan-meg for short- had her mind somewhere else.

"penny for your thoughts?"

meg just shook her head, tilting it across the pink skies that matched the tutus they still had on. a dreamy smile was strewn across her face

heather just watched her friend and the world surrounding them, a light gentle bubble in her stomach. she loved the building's rooftop so much; she was actually the one who first went up here and ever since then, it had been their place her place. she went here on weekends sometimes, when they didn't have rehearsals. everytime she was up here, she felt more than she was, like she was a goddess and everything below her was under a microscope like she could change anything with the click of her fingers. but most of all, in here she could freely be. it was her safe haven.

"okay spill tell me this isn't about hendrix again?"

meg smirked, looking at heather's ice blue eyes "okay you caught me" she says, traces of the english accent she had come with still evident in her voice

"i knew it. boy he's got you in such a haze. you've got a school girl crush on him" she teased, making her friend giggle nervously. meg was dating hendrix peters, a senior in the high school they were attending. theyve been seeing each other for six months now and heather knew how much of a ride it was almost as much as meg (being the first person meg ranted to everytime things occurred) the two were a match made in heaven and it was testified by the amount of gossip about them that was circulated, mostly by the senior girls who were head over heels for him and would hiss whenever their paths crossed with meg's and try to flirt with him every chance they got though he politely shook them off. he supported meg in all the possible ways, from attending to her performances on stage to supporting and showing off her stunning makeup looks and she did the same with him, coming to all his football games and enthusiastically cheering for him. they were madly in love, you could say

"it's not like that" meg scoffed, clasping both of her hands together. "ive just been thinking about the both of us and our togetherness and how we haven't done it yet and yea it's been in my mind alot" she bit her lip, a habit of nervousness she had "it's not a big deal i know, i mean, people do it all the time, people who aren't even together and it's not this eureka moment or anything of the sorts but i want it to be special at least"

"has he been asking you to do it?"

"no he doesn't really no, forcing there" meg shakes her head "but we did talk about it some time, once, thrice yea"

"someday then or tomorrow just be safe my dear friend" heather replies in a playful tone, trying to bring back the lightness of the conversation

"ugh help me practice my skills give it all to me darling, let me do you" her friend wickedly retorts, launching atop her and pinning her to the concrete, playfully mock *******

"ew dude *******'re so gross get off me" she says trying to act annoyed but she was laughing too all the while trying not to get crushed by meg's weight who was strangely heavy despite her small wiry frame

"ow babe im coming ugh" meg continues, laughing fooling around-this was how their friendship worked

"*******. now your germs are all over me" heather grunts, finally pushing meg off her and both of them just lay there for minutes, laughing too much and choking in their breaths, as the sky was bathed in watercolor above them, the sounds of the city being their soundtrack


"what's it like?" heather blurts once theyve both calmed down

"hmmm?"

"what's it like, being with him?"



meg raises her hands like she was touching the clouds, taking the question in deeply "it's....wonderful....i mean...we aren't always happy and we have loads of fights but....we manage to make it work and the whole thing drives me crazy but it's a good kind of crazy"

her answer dissolves in heather's thoughts are completely lost in it


"you know that when we first got together i told him how much i hated clichés? flowers, chocolates stuffed animals, fancy dinner dates you name it and he nodded and the first gift he gave me was a boquet out of makeup products and i laughed because it was thoughtful and he's just full of surprises but you know he did give me flowers and letters on an occasion but i didn't mind it.
i guess that's how love is, made out of all the things you love thrown in with things you don't like but you don't mind at all"

heather nodded, still deep in thought "how did you know?"


the question seemed to have an incomplete thought but meg got the gist "i just did. well i didn't know itd last but i did know that he was for me but he's not my soulmate see, you don't find soulmates, you make them. anyone could be your soulmate, soulmates are just a ****** up idea at finding love. someday you'd know kid"

heather rolled her eyes. she hated being called kid because she was reminded of how much younger she was from meg when it came to these sorts of things "don't call me that"

"you'd know" meg pats her friend in the head, lovingly still teasing her

she sits up, tying the ribbons of her satin slippers. they climb down the fire exit and join the rest of the ballet dancers, rehearsing for the rest of the day



and heather went back to the rooftop the day after, a saturday in solitude sorting out the contents of her brain, replaying the conversation she and her bestfriend had in this very place the previous day, all the while feeling a sort of feeling in her heart very familiar to nostalgia. she realized it was the feeling of longing. longing for love like meg's description of it. longing for love like the glow of stardust. longing for love
sure she had a boyfriend before but not once did she feel like how meg described love out to be with him not once did she feel like their kisses and hugs mean something and their fights never felt worth fighting for. sure she had this guy in her grade whom she passed notes and looks with and texted for days but it was never serious and he didn't see her in that certain light that makes people glow that you fall for and even if they dated it would have been too complicated.

it was a winding day for her mind to wander and she played their game as the cars went on their journey on the highway down below.

an orange car swooshes out of nowhere and she closes her eyes and makes a wish when my person comes please i hope i'll know, holding on for a beat more. after that a black car passes and her luck was aligned with the stars

a splash, the water seeping into her clothes as malia went down, floating
deep even breaths, inhale, don't let go, eyes closed



she was eight when she pricked her pinky with the thorns of a fresh white rose having accompanied her father to buy a boquet for her mother's birthday, relinquishing on the droplets of blood painting the once plain rose realizing a beat later that she was hurt; such a mindless little action, the essential kick-start of these events; a snowball effect

she was ten when she rode her bike after failing her english exam and made herself fall down by the rocks, coming home with bruised, scratched knees, her mother quickly rushing to her aide with bandages and words of comfort. it was the first time she muttered an ironical set of im fine's and acted so cold in their warm home

she was eleven when she skipped her meals for two days and didn't come out of her room,holding herself in bed as her heart rocketed, for outside the door were her parents' deliberate fighting

she was twelve when she made her first ever cut, followed by three more slices and in the same year she threw up all the strawberry crepes in her friend's bathroom on her friend's birthday party, stuffed all her packed lunches in the bin on school days. it was the year her parents finally split up and her friends picked their other friends over her and the world around her was changing and she had not even her shadow's hand to hold but the glint of sharp silver and the taste of ***** and the feeling of melancholia and loneliness and despair,these unwelcome visitors turned her only friends

she was thirteen when she blew out the thirteen rainbow colored candles on her birthday cake as the people she once knew so close now like foreign continents sang her the birthday song and told her to make a wish. little did they know that she wished to be found dead

she was fourteen when she quit the dance team because it was as if she was a robot fueled by the techno beat and electronic rhythm, she felt as empty as the quiet minutes when the song finishes and went to her first ever party, got wasted and walked around town sleeping under the bridge blanketed by stars thinking my mother did wrong at picking out my name so so wrong she never should have sugar coated it for destruction could only be suppressed til it  destroys everything, the catalyst my mother should have named me destruction for it is the only reason for every bad thing that happened to my family, my friends, my life i am the reason and she slept, the only thought stuck in her mind

she fell in love when she was fifteen and it was a lovely time if not the best in her entire existence apart from the time her family was whole and they all loved one another and her childhood was golden. and this boy taught her how to dream again and cared for her heart and she once again cared for herself, like a dam broke inside her and water flowed everywhere in delight, like the curse was broken. together they snagged stars but believed that they shone triple times more when they held hands and had children in their dreams frolicking in their kingdom

but they broke up and their empire fell apart after a year of bliss and love it wasn't love but he made her believe in love, made herself believe it was love they shared til they ran down the fun house mirrors and saw the mockery in their distorted reflections and all their differences and their sins and the rubble and he looked at her with no recognition, utter disbelief and told her she wasn't good enough and this is never going to work and this should've never started and im sorry im sorry im sorry  sounding like cruel laughter in her ears and that was that and she craved for pain and destruction again because this is just how her story goes there are no cliff hangers or plot twists and once again she found herself alone and she listened to sad songs alone, blasted them in anger and took out her lighters and her blades, burned his letters, all the love notes and the things he gave that she once cherished and found herself in a flurry of mutilation because of course this was all her fault too, she let him have her and use her, empty her out and leave and she was love's fool.

her mother always told her to always tell the truth, her father telling her to never lie but they've all been doing it all along hadn't they? because love was a lie and her parents loved each other loved her and look how that turned out and the lover she once called told her so many times that he loved her more than the sun, the moon, the stars, and all the planets and he had a blackhole's force of ******* her into his lies and making her believe liars and she was no different and she had been doing all these things to hurt her because her name was destruction and she was destruction and she destroyed herself as well, punished herself for all her mistakes and this was the last punishment,

and she was seventeen when she was institutionalized after her "railroad accident" and she ended up with bruises and stitches and ***** failures alot worse than all the punishments she gave herself. so she failed at ending her life and her mother sat beside her in the hospital with stained glass eyes and mostly kept quiet because if she dared talk shed break and she couldn't do that when her daughter broke already while she stayed oblivious, drowning in her own grief all these years but malia knew what she wanted to say "how could you do this to yourself? to me? why malia? why?"
and for a year she was locked up with therapists and pills and people who held destruction within them people like her

she was eighteen and she was back at school and had decent grades enough to impress the universities and she found herself a group of friends who were okay with her past,she and her mother have started spending time together again catching up and talking things out and sometimes she'd eat out with her father and they'd hang out for a bit. it was finally a life worthy of being called a life



now she just sits there in the bottom of the swimming pool as nightfalls
there was no explanation but they've gotten it all wrong
deep breaths and hold it in the longest you can with your head underwater and then think about everything until you're close to drowning

she didn't do this all the time, just when things got bad
everyone thought that she was better, that she healed
well she did
but not completely, not for eternity

she wanted to believe that she's okay
that the meds worked and all that therapy succeeded and all that mental health days were worth it and that she was going somewhere in the future

she knew that people cared and worried about her but sometimes wanted more like a greedy void because sometimes all they did was care but they didn't know how to help, like they don't really understand but merely grasping

her mother thought she was better
her friends thought she was better
her father whom she saw once a month thought she was better
her doctors thought she was better
they didn't know about this about her compromise with self harm

she still had the scars and the burns as well as the stitches from the "accident" like tattoos on her body which may never fade. she really wanted to get past all of it but tonight she succumbs and it hurt less than what she used to do for punishment
she didn't even know what she was punishing herself for this time; she just wanted the general feeling of pain, the only thing she's ever been sure of for years like a visit from an old friend





she woke the day after with the damp floor tiles under her and the glisten of the lapping pool water beside and she was glad that she did

stone's throw and the water's current, clouds shifting in the valley of the sky above
screams could be heard near
no,
it was more of a giddy falsetto, shouts that sounded too drunk,
it was an all too familiar sound for james an all too familiar person

"look at my wings! im a fairy! im coming home to the beloved land! wait for me fairy sisters!"

he went to the clear to see if he was hallucinating he wasn't
it really was her;
sophia
nine months since they broke up; that tearful separation

for a minute he just stood there at the far end of the river watching his ex girl friend spread her arms and glide near the banks in the bridge chanting and giggling

god, did he miss her voice and her laugh

she was just like how he remembered her, her timeless free spirited soul still intact as if she took her childhood with her as she grew up, clenched tightly in her fists

the moonlight kissed her milky pale skin, bathing it in a dusty sort of blue.
she was all by herself and he could tell that something was off;
like she was only half there, like her soul vacated her vessel and she was talking to someone not there

she seemed disoriented and james wondered if she was getting bad again,

the worry kicking in as soon as he thought about all those nights,
those times they got high and drank too much and drugged themselves, injecting poison they craved into their veins, letting cigarette ashes fall to their feet, tiptoeing about as if by a marionette's force trailing along the synchronized beating of their hearts
his mind and being time travelling, to the motel room they stayed at that summer bursting with heated afternoons and passionate air, the sheets that smelled of their love making, the wooden floor they sat on as he strummed the strings of his beloved guitar, singing to his muse, the balcony where they laid in each other's arms, in awe of the world around, cicadas chirping
their adventures and misadventures where she pretended to be a superhero and had him as her sidekick the times they pretended to be spies on quest and missions-she introduced and dragged him into her colorful magical realm.
she had dog eared, coffee stained colored books piled in the trunk of her car with words and sentences blacked out, renewed into greater poetry. he could've put a bookmark between pages of one of those books, and they could've dived right into it, staying in a chasm of a sappy, lovesick, sensual poem. they could've gone on a quest of slaying monsters and stopping time for eternity. he couldve stopped them from drowning

they were looking for heaven not knowing that heaven is not a places on earth

all he did was pull down the anchor and let her sink as he kept afloat. sure their connection was real and pure. they comfortably had both of their minds and spirits bare around each other they were two kites flying in a parallel motion but the wind dragged them down hurling them recklessly

they were rarely under substances, almost never under the influence of vices. it filled them up like birthday balloons and their love was the needle that caused them to pop. it had reached the point where they were trapped in a psychedelic haze holding on to each other to stay lucid

the drugs took their toll on them resulting to violence, abusive fights
he loved her so much that he built her a house of bricks and cement to protect her from the big bad wolf not knowing that ****** and ******* turned him into a wolf and he huffed and puffed til he blew her down blew her dead

he felt his heart hit the flat line as her heart stopped for seconds in the ambulance that night he felt everything warp into everything he's ever known everything he's ever had, ever los. he felt the drugs warp into her as if she was the side effect instead of the addiction. the drugs gave them the illusion of being alive while remaining two lifeless, misguided souls.

miraculously they were able to revive her back to life but comatosed with only monitors and tubes sustaining her "life".
that night he dreamt of being with her and holding her hand for the last time as they made a pact, the promise; that they would both get better, get help, get rehab, have blood in their bloodstreams again and have normal functioning lives. they parted with a promise and a someday; that someday they'd meet again when things were right and the stars have aligned maybe, maybe. they kissed and touched in one another's presence before they parted in different directions, for freedom for the better it was a dream within reality. he knew she dreamt it too, that they were stars weaved in the same dream.

he walked closer, to where she was, still seemingly trapped in a trance mindlessly but she alarmingly tethered too close to the water, flailing her arms inviting the wind to knock her down and be part of the river, be the tides the rocks skipped. he had to do something

" sophia!" he screamed, her name echoing past the trees and the trailer houses. it was enough or her to look at him with those eyes, the same eyes that said it all before. recognition fleeted for a second before it went blank but she stopped tethering and perched herself on the bridge

he gave her a lift and took her home to the dorm she was newly staying at for the semester (it was hard to get it out of her from her drunken slurs almost like he had to pull her back from space) and on his drive back with a cigarette perched on his lips he thought about the way he laid her down, passed out and how he stayed for a bit longer, letting his fingers linger across her hair spun from golden silk and the lopsided smile that hung in her face while she slept.

he wondered most of all if she really got better, if the dark was behind her and if she was truly beyond it. he really wanted to believe the pictures that lined the walls,pictures of her smiling, with her friends, her family months after the promise.

she did look better, her skin baring a hint of plumpness and had a healthy glow replacing the sagging hollow that lived in it all those months. after the episode he witnessed (she did reek of ***** and had bloodshot eyes and was shaking not to mention the trance she was in), he didn't know if she was only good at keeping up the "better" facade. but he had his fingers crossed

he was about to let himself out, an ache growling in his stomach as they were to be separated again but he guessed it was the closest they would ever be.

"tell james i love him. always"

his head swiveled back to her and she was still tucked asleep. he could've sworn she said it, he couldn't be hearing things-after being eight months clean of substance usage.

he felt the familiar burn of the cigarette, and he threw it out of the window leaving the remnants of the nicotine inside him. he hated himself for lighting one up and keeping a half pack all this time. this was his first successful relapse and it was all because of her. like a ship tied down to an anchor;he was still tied to her, invisible ropes weighing him back to her ghost



she would always be his downfall