I am the queen of what ifs
Sitting on a throne of could've beens

My fears are my loyal subjects
Escorting my dreams to the gallows

My ambitions are now prisoners
To my court of procrastination

I, the queen
Reign over all of this regret

"I can't do this anymore."
She said as she dropped
the razor from her hand.
The cuts on her hand were
as deep as her love for him was.
She sat there weeping all night
thinking of how she could reverse
the time and heal her wounds.
The night was as troglodytic
as her heart.
She clenched her fist tight as she
heard it whisper in her ears.
A very familiar voice but not
palatable to hear.
A voice that sounds like an elegy.
Her world spun at the speed of light
when it said it's stuck to her.
Her hands started trembling as
it was latched onto her.
Nails so long and eyes so red
she couldn't stop the horrendous
voices in her head.
As soon as the firebolt struck
the ground the wolves started
bawling, the fiendish and
diabolical sky started mourning.
All she wanted at that
time was to be free of that
unendurable and inadmissible
pain but the depression which
came in the form of Mephistopheles
did not let her empty her vessel.
As the long abominable and
atrocious night passed she was
found lying on the floor breathing
but not alive.
She was completely shattered and
broken into tiny bits but
with every tiny bit she still
loved him.
That was the night she realized
what it was like to
live with depression.

Your beauty is stark
and dangerous
Struck by your presence
I am caught between attraction
and repulsion
love and fear
Drawn Like a moth
to a burning pyre
Will you take me
or torment me?
In the heat of the day
your rage simmers
beneath the blistering sun
that in the cool
of the evening
surrounds me with love
To stay or go
a question forever
playing on my lips

My heart feels astray
as the storm comes and takes my body away,
my soul responds to this pain,
Of your absence,
And that you fled away,

My balance,
weak and poignant,
Needs a lot of repair,
To bear the hurt that you gave,
Withering me internally,

Not even a glue,
Or a surgery can help me stabilize,
Its just you,
And your touch,
That can save me.

Days run from Orange to gray
I think of the things I needed to say
If I told him perhaps he would want to stay
Time measured in sand and sand shifts away

Weeks run from green to white
Red daunting demons hunt when it's night
He was important ant but the memory fade out of sight
Sanity was a shadow trying to dance in the light

Months run from pink to maroon
I whisper my secrets to a deaf mute moon
I carry my life like a cracked egg on a spoon
Hoping and praying that death would come soon