The knock on the door was the last thing,
And the door was never ever opened again.

The very new chapter had begun,
And now the old was closed forever.
The fantasy,
Wild dreams,
Laughter,
Was it there to be?

Taking a deep breath,
She opened the door,
This time it was a new one,
Smiling she stood,
With Kohl in her eyes,
Hairs perfectly a mess,
With smile to make the world still.

Holding on to her dreams,
With some new beginnings,
A happy heart,
And maybe a new start.

She was strong enough to go on,
To move on with it.

Her wild dreams had a new destination,
Destination which was unknown,
And the road which took her there,
Was a mystery on it's own.

She was a world in herself,
The world which had no boundaries,
Where there was archaic,
Where she was the queen of her very own dreams,
Where the gestures were the best way to interact,
Where happiness was the key to love,
Where being you was important.

So she took her first step forward,
And she was ready to rise high,
And to fall,
And still smile,
Because this time it was she who had decided,
By looking back to the time,
She must smile upon her flaws,
And still rise above all.

And the knock on the door was never heard again,
And now the door was open once and for all.

So I was just thinking... and I wanted to write something that would resonate in people's heart but then something crossed my mind.
There's this boy.
I've never met anyone like him, in fact, he's one of a kind.
I don't mean to sound cliché but it's true.
I've never had someone look at me the way he does & he does it with such grace.
Sometimes I try to imagine what would my life be like if he wasn't in it.
But I can't.. I wouldn't want to know what it'd be like.
His mouth stretches from ear to ear exposing his bright smile that I adore.
Ya know it's kind of funny how I let someone in.
I mean I had this sort of wall that he unknowingly took down..
I'm not afraid to feel vulnerable -- he gives me nothing to doubt.
The way he holds me I feel like all my worries and troubles fade out of my conscience.
This is a kind of love I've never had -- real love.
I lay my head on his chest and just listen to it beat at a steady pace.
This is where I wanted to be,
wrapped in his embrace where I felt at home.
A home that I long for every time I have to leave it -- him.
His eyes are this deep shade of brown I have yet to figure out, but I am very close.
His lips sit so plump and move so gracefully you'd think he's speaking a foreign language -- the language of love.
Ya know I was doing fine by myself, I was making it.
But when I stumbled upon him, I wanted to know more.
And suddenly I couldn't get enough.
He is like my favorite bottle of *** -- he's intoxicating.
His troubles are my troubles, his worries are my worries.
This boy.. Oh this boy my first real thing.
No I don't care for who was before me and what they were like.
Because just like him, I'm one of a kind.
The things we could be are limitless -- to infinity and beyond..
So I was just thinking... and I wanted to write something that would resonate in people's heart but then something crossed my mind.
There's this boy.
And I'm intoxicatingly in love with him.

I suppose you could call me the epitome of destructive.

Number insides;

I am lighter fluid and absinthe.

All those whom I look forward to,

Perish at an age no older than 30.
Sunken deep by the crippling bones of creativity.
Why must creative convert to gloom?

Would you call yourself the poster child for anti-depressants?
When was the last time you held the shards in hand

and looked upon your perfect skin with tremors?

Just dying to let the living out.


Sit perched to the moon awaiting a calling

that came in a figure of an *******.

Sometimes I speak to you of my troubles

Just to know you’ll get off my back.


Do you know if it wasn’t for your slippery hands
trying to mumble their way through steel caps

I might of died that night?
Inches away from the edge
you crudely pointed at your own meter
that ticked against the pavement
awaiting pennies to be dropped.

You’d offer your calling card of cannabis and magic fingers,
line the body with your palm
and hold it against the skin.

Tell me I was beautiful just until the hand hit 10

and you’d say
I was the epitome of destructive.