I think too much, this I have always known
for to live alone in solitude, one is blessed with thoughts as companions.

And perhaps this is optimal:
my thoughts do not mutter harsh words behind my back or even to my face
but comfort me in soothing tones like strokes
and sing-song verses that hug the walls of my mind pleasantly

My thoughts choose to show me beauty,
instead of the stark rawness of the world outside the frames of my head
they've conversed amongst themselves
of the sleek sheen of wetness on lemon leaves after a morning shower
or when they are most inspired,
of the smooth gradient of sky swathed by sunset
and allow me to watch it all, a front-row ticket to their splendid imaginings

Always, they will sigh contently at art and literature
and then feast wildly in the presence of knowledge
They accumulate bits of information like starving kittens,
so eager are they, I am left breathless

(There certainly are much worse points to them too,
but my thoughts threaten me so, in silence, I'll refrain.)

i am sick, mad, crazy
still in love with you
always thinking about not thinking about you
and whenever you incessantly creep in-
to my thoughts i scold myself
it's too late--
i haven't crossed his mind in ages

and i drive myself to tears at night lying awake,
feeling far too naked next to him
(who i can't stop comparing to you--
how mediocre he seems after you,
how everyone likely will be)
and i suffer in silence
from the dreadful
chill of lingering
hope
a hope
that maybe
you and I
just might...

it's like
how i can't forget
that summer afternoon when we were
sun-drunk and
bleary-eyed in your hammock and you
put your hand on my stomach and said,
one day, we'll have a baby in there
and i was stilled; i loved so profoundly then
i had thought,
one day
we could be magical

and every part of me hates how cliche this all sounds,
and how our stupid tragedy has turned me into a cliche
but it's true
every single day
my raw hungry love, still alive
looms over me,
plagues me,
decays me,
i try to push it away but
it lingers like a nightmare
that will not go away

i know we exploded, turned to
shattered glass,
smoky ash but
i still yearn to know why
and so every time
someone dies in the newspaper
or i read a line in a book that moves me
or our song
comes on the radio
or someone mentions your name
in passing, with painful casualty
or worse-- nauseating familiarity,
i feel a sharp pang, with every
accidental glimpse of a photograph
i still can't bring myself to throw away,
my heart sinks deeper down
into my stomach
and once more,
i am sure
i will never truly feel again
without you

sometimes i have the urge to stand on a
pedestal somewhere,
high and tall and proud,
in front of a
bustling crowd like
in the movies
and scream to the universe
i would still do anything
to be with you
and wait for you to run so fast towards me that we
crash and then you pull back, hold my face and say
shut up, i had you at hello, or something

i've tried so hard for so long not to feel any of this
to numb the breaking-away pain with
blue, white, green, orange pills and
sweet smoke
i've tried so hard to detach myself from the reality
of our tragedy
to avoid responsibility
for feeling anything at all

but my new year's resolution is to be clean
so now i am finally letting myself
feel
it
all
from my mind through
my cold meaningless fingertips
all the hurt

now i know
the darkest face of sadness
is regret

and i want you to know
that even though i pretended not to,
i heard you and
i'm trying to change
and that i hope one day you will actually
forgive me
for doing that awful thing i did to you
last spring
and that
i'm scared i will love you forever

but if there is a chance
you feel something too,
why have we wasted
so much time
not together?

Her Light was a gentler thing
Moments of lilac calmness and sunshine in one
Soft brushstrokes laid on creamy white canvas
Melted butter on honeyed steamed buns

Quietly, it would come in the hushed stillness of morning
Creep gently and fold over her skin
She let it sweep across her like velvet water
Until her Light was able to cave in

Through bruised holes of mangled skin pores
Past the dark spots her Shadow had made
Via blackened veins and tarred tissue
Life and Vitality ****** from blood where her Shadow was laid

With her Light, came hope unknown
Like a candle burning weakly inside her chest
And although it struggled against the veil of dark
it was there inside her nonetheless

Her Shadow dreaded when her Light visited
It sulked in a pile and curled itself into a speck 
"Get It out, Girl," It would moan to her in pained agony,
"Its presence will make me a wreck."

But the girl, though she did not say it, loved her Light
And so welcomed It into her eagerly
Despite urgent protests from her weakened Shadow
who fed on what darkness was left thirstily 

And gradually, her Shadow could feel its time dwindling
as her Light began to etch itself deep
and the golden path of the Light was strengthened
by the glowing warmth the girl's lover seeped

Thus her Light would find her insides most fitting
near this heat of the girl's sweet lover
Strong enough to wrap her in and envelop her
and warm the icy crevices left by her Shadow's shady cover

Yet her Shadow despised the boy and his kindling warmth
that acted like a bright magnet for her Light
and so devised a malignant plan on its own
when her Light was gone and out of sight

It resolved to inject itself into the boy
and darken his insides as well
Take what life and Light his pure body had stored 
and rid him of his internal heat shell

It lept from out of the girl's skin
and planted itself tightly in his flesh
It festered deep in the ventricles of his heart for several days
traveled through organs as permeable as mesh

And soon his insides turned frigid
as his heat could not withstand the dark
His once-tender frame hardened into a rough stone
His touch, so smooth, now felt like bark

The girl, whose temperament had improved
after her Shadow abandoned her lightened body,
saw in her lover the same glint in his darkened eyes 
as the ones that used to belong to she 

She found he no longer had any warmth to give
Worse, he recoiled from her kind-intentioned touch
Her lover was as loveless as her evil Shadow
which she now hated very much

And how she cried and wept for his poor, helpless soul
As she knew the Shadow may not leave
Until he decided (with a gun) to end the Shadow's stay on his own
and left her alone to grieve

Perhaps this is how the story ends
But in time, maybe it will be
that the shadowed boy still has some Light of his own
and with effort, it will heal his body.