sometimes
my body betrays me;

i try to form words of consolation
in my mouth

but it knits itself
into anger
i am blinded in;

i desire to dance just
beyond death's fingerprints

but i am shackled
with life's endless waltz.

i do not weep for
what had been lost

but for
what is to come.

you always had an affinity for the complexities of life,
clutching onto precarious thresholds
that you vehemently
refuse to call
a bereavement

you always had an affinity for
bodies of matter that refuse to take
care of you back,
an abundance of saturnine
sentiments is what you are
made of

you always had an affinity for
convoluted recidivism
that always seemed to mar
the ineffable reverie
constantly buzzing in
your head

you always had an affinity for
a jargon's mouth,
wanting to emblazon the
sporadic tribulation along
the interstices of your
deleterious wreckage

you always had an affinity for
everything quintessential
that your reticent heart
can glom.

maybe i drank too much
because i dreamt that
you held me in your arms
with so much love and adoration
like it meant something to you,

and then i became
sober

we were contained in an ellipsis,
desperately aching for
delicate strings of words
uttered by ghastly and shallow mouths.

  we were contained in an ellipsis,
the silence
cradled the proximity
of the entangled messes
of our universe.

this was us.

this was our ellipsis,
it never seemed to end.

you stand
beside
each other,
gazing
at the
inertness of
her body.

there is
beauty
in words unspoken

for their
silence
held the
entire universe.

destruction is
a form of creation

your restless body
carried all the burden
that perplexed souls left you,
shackled with disdain
all alone.

the reverberating sounds
of gaiety tugged around
the edges of your
curled lips
but you still wear
heartbreak and misery
as your identity.

your autobiography
consisted of polaroids
of people who
left you jaded.

yet you let the feeling of love
cascade down your throat
even if it left you
still gasping for breath.

i never got tired of how you wake up in the middle of the night,
carefully walking out of the room
and taking a clandestine peek
again back inside.

complimenting the moon and the stars were a constant thing for you
during the unholy hours;
they shine ever so brightly,
illuminating the tears you had shed
when you told me what your
biggest regret was.

you loved everything
that didn't love you back and
maybe that's why you get so attached
to anything that kept you
above the treacherous waters,
preparing itself to engulf you
in an endless
mirrors of conundrum.

i never got tired of how you sleep with the lights on
for you hated the portentous silence
that lingered and never
seemed to leave.

but you were a paragon of paradox,
contradicting everything you speak or
do. i do not have a firm grasp on
what you really
intend to say.

and perhaps,
that was the one thing i
got tired of.