ah yes.

what a single look from someone can do to you.

does it help to force a blind eye? to look away?
or is it something i should be tackling head on?

i don’t know.

i have been very confused lately.

i remember conversations in which i believe i am the only one who does.
or am i?

am i the one looking at oblivion right in the eye?

or is it you?

You tell me that if I loved you, I would drink from the cocktail that I myself bought for you.

I would down it in one go if that would prove how much I adore you.

You place the cold glass in between my palms, my fingers numbing a little.

I take a sip, and the alcohol collides with my tastebuds like an iceberg but warms me on its way down my throat and into my stomach.

I am confused if it really is the delicious concontion, or if it is how you make me feel warmth, so radiant, that it engulfs me from the inside out.

I wipe the corner of my mouth with my wrist.

We smile at each other, and I wonder if you could tell by the way I look at you, that when I swallowed such poison you told me to take, all my mind could fathom was "because I love you."

But I am not that selfish.

I hand to you the rest, knowing that you have yet a thirst that neither I, nor this cocktail, may be able to quench.

I am going to shower you with my love,

The way the rain pours on open fields;
Turning untouched lands into abundant gardens.

I will make daisies grow in each and every crack
that have made their home on your body;
Reminding you how beautiful you still are despite the numerous earthquakes that have shaken you and altered your foundation.

Sunflowers will sprout,
Illuminating the darkest parts of you that the world has dimmed throughout the years.

Vines will creep up and weave among your spine, bringing together the pieces that have been shattered from all the times you've been beat down and stepped on like grass.

There will be dandelions to remind you how pleasant it is to let go of some things and in the hurtful process,
Trees shall also rise to keep you rooted.

I apologize if the love and the rain would turn into a storm and destroy a few things in my path.

I am sorry if I cause flood to flow from your eyes, but please be patient with me, as I am with you, as I am as you develop.

For In time, I will regain myself and be the way that I was, showering you with the same love that hasn't changed.

I can't promise light downpour all the time, but I do swear not to drown you out.

Water levels may rise,

But I hope you grow, I hope I make you grow.

I used to be an epitome of emotion.
I would burst in technicolor fireworks,
Louder than the night will ever be.
A mood ring would be like a spectrum,
Instead of one color, a wild rainbow.

Grenades would be no match to how I'd explode.  
More than just friendly fire,
I was a war within a body.

A vast expanse of unpredictable tides of
All the mental states you could ever imagine,
Not merely just meeting,
But crashing forcefully against the shore,
Pushing the sand away, but also bringing it closer, as it rolls back and forth
again and again.

But ever since you, my moon, left,
I am as dull as your hue of gray.
My ocean of feelings has gone still,
And has completely turned into drought.
Into nothing.

Yet why am I drowning?

I had a bomb in me that only I knew how to detonate and had little knowledge about defusing.

You learned every fragment of me and managed to crack my code.
I was deliberately okay with that,

Believing

that someone had finally figured out how to completely shut it down.


But boom!

you didn't.

Now blood stains and splatters
are on the wall,
And I am in a thousand of pieces
I know not of which to follow.

Hot, blistering weather;
People ask me how I'm so comfortable with it.
How there's not a single drop of sweat on me.

I thought of it as odd at first;
But I came to the realization
That my body has completely disregarded
The hellish climate because
the real burn was happening in me.

Blood boils
as I think about how I was pathetically treated.
How I was entirely misunderstood,
unappreciated.

Swollen knuckles start to show,
They ask me about them,
But even I don't know what I hit.
Was it the lamp post?
Or was it the wall?
I can't remember.

Red lines
appear on my forearm,
They ask again,
And I still can't seem to recall
how such beauty has been painted
on my skin.
Was I the artist?
I can't remember.

I can't stand their interrogations
anymore.

I stop thinking for a minute.

I break a sweat.

They think I'm okay now.


(c.j.p.)

You are as unclear as lake water,
at the same time so potable.
Like a vivid night sky,
filled with light pollution
from all the city lights.

Uncovered like the people
in renaissance paintings.
Camouflaged in the great open,
A chameleon in all colors.
Hidden like the new moon.

Present but never there to be seen.
Stated as existent, but bares in darkness.