What has society become...

Where a birthmark is considered a stain against beauty
And we keep our voices silent, afraid to defend the weak,
where people cheer on violence, just because it's the easier route.
We've created isolation within crowds from bytes on a screen,
created complete violation of privacy from ones and zeroes
without realising that it's always been partially for nought, zero.
We've sat silently by while our friends beat on each other with words
that could **** the broken and the words spoken differ from words heard.

We've handed death in a bottle to those who sought it,
instead of providing the care and help they needed
because it was easier to coat emotions in pills
than help a person climb an emotional hill.

We've painted portraits of war, labelled it as history
Coated clear conscience with tangent trivial ties;politics
run rampant on our psyche and we judge people as items
pushing purchasing prices for those who hold quality.

My only best guess is to just hit reset
because the bigger picture hasn't been taken yet.

Pitter! Patter! The sound of the teardrops;
pleading that the harsh tear stops.
She ripped it in two and a half...
million different pieces and parts.

The balloon like an orb as the sun shines,
connected by a string tied to my wrist,
severed by a calm tug.
The balloon drifted with the winds,
floated into the air; and with it...
came a realisation that I am no longer a child.

I am no longer a child...
She ripped it in two and a half...
million different pieces and parts
But there was no Pitter! There was no patter!
There was no sound of teardrops
and sometimes I wished I could learn to cry again.


___

I had let go of a balloon
And picked up a pen.

What if humans didn't have eyebrows
Would we all just hide out
Or would we spend our nights out,
because monsters should not be seen in daylight
and the moon is always in our favour.
We're werewolves and vampires,
And the blue skies lit by the sun
did not belong to us.

We are monsters after all, and daylight
meant exposing ourselves to ridicule and judgement,
as though we could never find beauty in simple;
it is perfect circled smiles with dimples
that were considered cute, and the larger angles
were obtuse while the smaller are acute.

We label it 'fashion statement'
it is make-up on faces,
constant changing tastes,
just to fit in with the popular.
The masses, the larger groups;
always stuck on "what is the latest scoop"
as though life was one big cone of ice cream.


We've been in and out before
We've been through open doors,
We've built buildings
To create ceilings.
Just to keep monsters
and the less popular,
inside.
Stuck between being buried six feet under
and the ceiling.

Lullabies does to eyes
What goodnight kisses
Does to kids.

I've hidden many things
in this lifetime,
take it from someone
who's hidden courage
On a bookshelf
saying that books help
the weak like
an elf and a dwarf
because those who wander
are not always lost
but those who are lost
tend to sit and wonder;
as to how I've come to
hidden courage on a bookshelf
and those books didn't help
because i've hidden courage
from myself.

I read my nights away
Afraid to truly say
What sits on my mind;
Accompanied by those
Deemed unkind,
because an orc's kiss
will always be sweeter
than the thought
of escaped lips
kissing on the cheeks
of someone else.

Take it from someone
who's hidden courage
On a bookshelf...
sometimes books don't help;
sometimes they do to eyes
what goodnight kisses
does to kids.
Sometimes things weren't
Meant to be kept hidden...

Letters to empty corpses,
the paper, absorbent
to the tears I've expelled
I've written my voice,
yelped a little yell,
learnt to correctly spell,
just in hopes that these
letters would reach you.

But they don't...

There's no one left,
no one on the other side,
who once i could confide,
I've left in a pretence
of stride, that these words
are seen by your eyes,
I'd heard you read them
aloud in my head, over
and over your voice echo
like the footstep march
of a million soldiers
all taking that one step closer
to what they spent their life
avoiding. I've pretended
that my letters have reached
you...

But they don't...

Letters to empty corpses...
Hoping you'd forfeit
what you call pride,
from the other side,
read the contents enclosed
by just opening the envelope.

But you don't...

Letters to empty corpses
unread by your eyes
due to some deeper forces,
unread by your eyes
Letters to empty corpses
that bled my heart...

All the letters and papers,
pages from the past,
as empty as shadows
in the night...

I was not the only kid who grew up this way,
taught to believe I was a complete waste
because we'd never been taught to pause
but just to continue on as though ricochets
of words never pierced through the skin
and that the flicker of flame within
will always remain lit, we always pressed play.
It didn't feel that way, the right way;
I'd remember on a specific Friday,
as the other kids raced to enjoy
their time before the weekend arrives,
I heard a kid I didn't know, ask
"Why don't we play vehicles? It's simple".
...
"What's vehicles?" I asked with a smile,
lit by the internal flames of happiness,
a smile lit by an expectation that
fun was to be had.
...
"Vehicles is simple. You're fat, so you
be a truck or a semi-trailer truck.
And you'd try to chase us cars."
...
I didn't press pause, I'd continue to play
with a broken smile lit on my face
as though the pummelling words had no
impact
...
I was not the only kid who grew up this way,
taught to believe I was a complete waste
because we'd never been taught to pause...
and I wished I had pressed pause...
before a spiral of artillery hit my artery
became a stained conscience
on what is really okay to believe in.

Do I believe in the models on screen
or do I believe in the heroes the world hasn't seen.
It's become obstinately obscene...
And I wished in this cataclysm of movies
in this cataclysm of choices I have made
in this cataclysm of regretful mistakes
I wished I pressed pause and simply said

"I may have a big waist,
But I am not a complete waste
because the best things in the world
aren't an illusion created by the eyes."

Let's play vehicles.

We'll all be cars and run thoughts of division over,
because we were all made to be loved.

because we are all beautiful

**No more playing,
It's no longer fun and games,
let's bring a change
by pressing pause
and simply saying...
"I am not a waste".

I hold a smile
Cause maybe the memories
Might just fade awhile
And
I hold my shoulders high
Hoping that I'll soar
One last time to finally
Understand what it's really like
To be able to lift myself up
And not get scared of falling.

They say,'the strong falls
Three times but gets up
Four times' and I just hope
That I can pull the pieces
Of what remains of this corpse
Back together, so that it could
See the light of day to stand
One last time.


------
A house that used to be a home
A heart that roams alone
And what I've come to learn:
I'm rather forgetful, and
Though I carry memories
For eternity; I'm easily
Forgotten, just like a speck of dust
In a thunderstorm or like a
Drop of water in an ocean
Or
Like me.

It had watched
her grow in a way
that a horticulturist
watched its own
creation sprout
and blossomed.
She had grown
like a rose; filled
with her own
thorns upon herself
that only came
to hurt others that
got too close but
in her own way,
beautiful.

Before every sunrise
It had opened its eyes
with a clank, like a coin
rattling inside a coin-
filled purse.
It was there to provide
the ambience of peak-
hour traffic; "Get off the
******* road you
******* lunatic. Where'd
you learn to ******* drive?"
would be the sound
that she woke up to every
morning. She has had
guests comment on its
vulgarity; but she defended
that it soothed her every
morning, and though
it was a recording
projected from speakers;
guests and visitors,
would denounce 'it'
as well as refute their
acceptance of 'it'.
She would gently tell it;
you're the best alarm,
and if she did not get up;
it would pull on her arm,
so she was always
moving in accordance to
her schedule.

She had been an orphan;
She still exists and lives,
as an orphan with her
orphan blood running
through her bloodstream;
and those who never
could understand what
it was like to be an orphan
would mutter "so you don't-
have a mum or dad, so what
it's not a big ******* deal;
it ain't like you're going to
be successful even if you did".
So came every night, though
the moon glowed upon her
pretty little face, she had
tears stream down her cheeks
that would reflect the moon's
gentle glow against her.
In a hollow home, nay!
In a hollow house, she
felt as though her sanity
was only stored by the whirring,
the buzzing, the sound that
mimicked a refrigerator from a
time before refrigerators were
considered 'in need of perfecting'.
On every night, it would read to her,
'as a mommy and daddy would'; she'd
use to say. Though it never had
an exciting tone and only ever
spoke in a monotonous way, she said
it had the mechanisms of being
the perfect parent a parent should
pursue to be.
It would read, every night 'Goldilocks
and the three bears' and though she had
grown up and grown old, it would
continue to read the same book and edition
as she had wanted. To her, listening to a
story was less to do with the story but
more to do with the comfort and reminder
that there is normalcy in her life that
mimics those of the child she had envied
at school. It would always after the
monotonous reading of 'Goldilocks
and the three bears', would include
a joke; "Do you wonder why the bears
had beds? I bet they bearly slept on them",
and though the joke was told a couple
thousand times, she had always giggled
at it's little joke. In the night, It would
close it's eyes, clank.

On one evening, she had invited a
male friend over for the night, it
would stand steadily still, inoperable
until commanded by her. It never
understood her connection to the
male friend, but it wasn't built to
understand. It watched as her mouth
connected to the male friend, it was
built with a action deciphering sequence,
so it determined that she was giving
him Cardiopulmonary resuscitation in a
standing position due to her lack of training.
It continued to let off its whirring sound,
an ordinary day ambient to her ears, but not
so much for her male friend. Her male friend,
in a quick procession of pushing her lips away to
saying "YOU'RE A FREAK. why do you have a
killing machine in your house?" He stormed out
before she even had a chance to explain its role
in her life.

In a stern and loud voice she screamed
'I want you to die!' and it responded in a gentle
voice, "what colour did you want to dye it?",
"******* and die!" she shouted with a flaring red face.
It did what it always does, responded to every command;
"There is no king here. That is an impossible request. Do
you have any other queries?" it had said in the most gentle
and softest voice that seemed almost like a whisper had it
not been monotonous. She shouted once again,
"DIE!" and as routine, it responded "A die is a cube
fitted with numbers to arrange a probability situation.
The sample space of a die is one to six".

She, tired of hearing it, muttered the words that
her late billionaire parents and maids regarded
as taboo; "PERMANENT TERMINATION!
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY! I don't need you,
I have a cell phone, it does all that you do."

'My job is done'
Said the android
As it closed its eyes
One final time.
**Clank

Last night something died,
It crawled with its bleeding heart,
Upon my doorstep.

I thought I could help,
I thought I could save a life
But hope is fickle.

Buried in the dark
Where stars try to penetrate
The soil with its light.

I weeped at your side
And I'm sorry I couldn't
Have saved you dear friend.

I watched you fade, gone,
But in my heart you live on,
And I'm sorry dear.

They say words can blow a thunderstorm into oblivion;
But sadly one thing I've learnt, it can't be done twice.
You are a bright soul, both as the sender and recipient;
And I'm saddened that your light has been dimmed.

In the time I have come to learn about you, tragedy
became your bread and butter but you stood strong;
Yet you drew last breath as societal war's casualty;
And I had hoped I'd help you find your inner light.

You taught me, that the inner me and the enemy
Are synonymous with one another, and though
people brandished darkness and negative energy
You taught me, to stay strong and shine brighter.

I just wish I could have been there to cut the ties
That bonded your soul to your late grandmother's,
I just wish I could have been there to cut the ties
That bonded your last breath with your last light.

I do not flick a light switch on this day to guide you;
For today, I will light a candle to memorialise;
The day that you have finally left the flames of blue,
And found your peace.

I hope that wherever you are, you are watching the stars;
And I hope that this dedication reaches you at the gates
Of heaven.

- Your friend.

Cast aside the brush and let me take your palms
We’ll place sadness and loneliness at the horizon
As we watch from the shores where the waves are calm
And take the ink to the canvas to extend our peace
With our symbolic love; so that the horizons
Become our serene paradise, to match our hearts
With our eyes. Our hearts will walk together
Beyond the horizon, further than our vision could ever
Take us.

Each line overlays the preceding line,
Building a foundation to yours truly;
A passageway to bond your heart to mine,
With bridges of stanzas and roads of words.

A simile for your exquisite smile,
Like the luminous pearls from the oceans;
Or like stars that last in the night awhile,
Yet remembered for an eternity.

A metaphor for your beautiful eyes,
The way they would gently look into mine
And sometimes rained as clouds from the blue skies;
Out of security and happiness.

I should be shedding light on the stigma of society,
how division and segregation reared its ugly head;
and though its been killed in the media and debates,
it's somehow sought shelter and survived.

I could offer words on the issue, share my thoughts;
break out all I can from what I hear, unsure whether
the facts and figures are configured fiction, so my words
are an ember wasting away with the winds, empty.

Where do I stand? Do I stand for the weak, or do I
hold hands with the weak, do I sing the songs that
I dare not speak or do I let myself believe, this is just?
This is just.....society reverting into its primal form.
Until nothing but ash, bones, dust and destruction,
is all that remains.

The weight of the world is incomparable
To the weight of a single word.
We dare not think nor touch the word 'love',
For it has lifted souls and broken spirits.
As humans, we often fall in love
But never do rise in love, it is all rather strange.

Few say, it is the poisoned petalled prisons,
whereby roses of emotions flourish
with the pain and heartache, and that
love is a part of heartbreak and vice versa.
So we stem ourselves on a foundation,
That becomes afraid of love, yet find love
to be the most beautiful thing, we could ever
come to love and come to hate.

Pivoting on such a word, those who do not
Attempt to romanticise the notion.
Romanticise love, as those who often do, say,
Accept that love is evident and existent,
Dream of a world that dares to write of it,
Often, we fall out of love, but we grew to be
Xerophilous in regards to life of love.

I've been lost for most of my life, every wrong step taken in the dark, every turn and twist; tripped over my shoelaces many times and just in constant fear of things. I'm scared that nothing I could do for you ever goes right, I want to tell you I love you face to face, under the light of a million stars. I want to hold your hands, watch as the path we take fill with the indents of our footsteps. I want to kiss you under the moonlight, let you know that with the power of us combined, everything will be alright. I want so much for everything to work out, but sometimes reality is a bit different. What I'm really scared of the most now is, that I might not be the knight in pink armour you were expecting and I might fall short. I wish so hard I could be that perfect guy for you, the right one for you, but what if I'm not. There's no words I could describe you, except that you have a soul I would cross mountains, swallow razor blades for. I'd let myself bleed out if it meant that my blood could somehow make you happy. I'd give anything for you, I just hope that you realise that. You are the best person in my life. I love you so much and just the thought of you leaving, it's a bit of a heartbreaker in itself, tear inducing, heart hurting, stomach churning, blood boiling, bruise causing thought. I don't know how that three word could ever measure up, heck it might not ever measure up to how I really feel. I love you. I just love you so so much. In the same time, I'm scared when I finally tell you, you won't stay.The thought itself is killing me. Babe, there's nothing in this world that you don't deserve. You are the epitome of caring souls, kindness, beauty and much more. I just hope that this message reaches you and that no matter what happens, there's a loser who will love you with all his heart. You showed me what true love is, and in return I hope you'll give me the chance to show you the world, to show you how I see you, because in my eyes , you are everything. You are the breath of fresh air, to the light of the night stars. I love you princess, your weakling loser.....

You are the reason my heart beats. You are everything. You are the sounds of my heartbeat and you are the only thing I want to see between each blink.

I could probably give myself to everyone
Pass myself around like a bottle of alcohol
Letting everyone take pieces of me slowly
Till I am but empty glass on touched lips
And that might not be too bad for some.

I could split myself one by one; cursed
by a serrated touch of those who take
all they could from what I am and
if it weren't so hard, I'd given myself
to everyone, just to be tossed around.

I could give pieces of my heart like
I was playing a game of pass the notes
in class, trying to find those who would
open the notes and take a read of
every letter there is to behold.

I have given myself to enough people
to know, that not everyone wants me
and that doesn't bother me as much
as the idea of having to live a life
without the stars, without the sunset,
unable to grasp at the moon and its light.

I have given myself to people,
some who take more than others,
some who reject what they have not yet known,
But it is you that I want to give myself in entirety.
No broken pieces, no serrated cursed touch parts,
Just an instant of chemistry and wholesome hearts.
I want to give you, not pieces of myself, not pieces
of my life, but I want to give it to you in its whole,
And if it takes a million years for me to get it right,
I will give you a million more years, to see one
beautiful smile.

Let's banish the shadows, fight the darkness
Because the toughest always fights the hardest
And our two souls can intertwine to cast
a different light to those who ever dared to look past
What we have achieved and what we could yet
to achieve.

A flicker of a candle flame
As I studied the photos
You held the same pose
The same single smile
That same spark ran wild,

But all of that was yesterday...

I looked at your photo,
Unable to recognise each one
Just a face that I thought I'd loved,
Each thread conjoined with
A personality I couldn't remember,
Each stitch attached to a smile,
All the same yet unfamiliar.
You became an embroidery,
The fabrics of faces that stands
As facades and coaxed of one
single emotion...

GUILT.

I stay up at night, late into the AMs riddled with guilt
Over how I grew too fond of one petal plucked flower
Watched it slowly rotted,decaying praying not to wilt
As I admired what once were stems in a indelible vase.

I hear of the ambience, lit up in a different hazy smoke,
Forced to let what I feel cascade into obvious oblivion,
Keeping clear calmness behind a messed mask that chokes
As the days drew long and the nights drew even longer.

Sunrise doesn't rise soon enough, and sunset sets too soon,
For fiery shadows built a furnace from my cold walls,
And before I could awake to the moon, I awoke to noon,
As you held every bit of a different burning candle light.

I'm sorry that I paved the pebbled pathway that you walked,
If I could reverse the sands, unsift across my hands,
Or captured every droplet of grain, wishing it wasn't caulked,
But I made the road that you tread on with you feet.

I'm sorry that every step you took only led you further,
And though I know you didn't want to be near after time taken,
I had hoped I could watch you stay afloat on a life preserver,
Rather than watch you drown, taking nothing but yourself.

I'm sorry that the days drawn out a different tale,
If I could bend time and stick it back together,
Just to make things better and watch as things unflail,
I'll always know I tried my best to give you my shoulders.

I set fire to your life, watched the smouldering ashes cast away into the air,
And for that I am sorry.

Upon a hill hopped a rabbit,
Little to knowledge of talking
He eventually picked up the habit
And finally learnt how to speak.

His first words were to a cat,
'Miss, might I say you're beautiful?'
He asked looking for a little chat.
'It's fine by me' replied with slight purrs.

'Do you mind if i sit next to you?'
Asking once again to the purring cat,
'I just want more orange, less blue'
The rabbit said with a little sigh.

'I know some don't carrot all-
And it hurts my little feelings
Because though I'm not tall
I have a heart as big as my chest'

The rabbit looked in her direction
'You sure have a large meowth' cat said,
'You sure have perfect complexion'
The rabbit replied with cocksure glee.

'You've got to be kitten me' cat snickered
Cats eyes gleamed under the light of beauty
'At least I'm not a hare in your burger' rabbit bickered-
Back and forth till their smiles shone bright.

'May I say one more thing?' bunny asked
'Yes purr sure you may' cat replied.
'No star can leave a light like your cast-
Because you are the brightest and most beautiful
star to ever lived on this Earth'.

**1837–1901 Rosoideae

I broke your heart
And I am sorry.
I hope this apology
Doesn't fall short.

I know some days
are extremely hard
our hug fell apart
before it even formed.

I am sorry, its my fault
You've given my days magic
And I returned in tragic,
And I can't fix things.

When you sing, your voice-
is soul moving and beautiful,
completely acoustical,
And I miss hearing it.

Don't blame yourself,
You are still beautiful
And that is indisputable
So please stop blaming yourself.

I remember you'd carry me on your shoulders
Watched as my clothes and smile got older,
I remember you held me in your arms,
To drive away the meaningless harm,
I remember cancer erasing your strength
And your hair became shortened in length.
I remember that my first word was your title,
Father,daddy,dad,pa like I was at a recital
But it was less Margaret Atwood, more shakespeare,
Because there was no happy ending to be had here.
I remember the way we wilfully fed the fishes,
But then I remember your back with all the stitches.
I remember you telling me you loved me in your final days,
But things that I've come to remember, are all but a haze
Because the things I believe I remember are stories
Told by mum, and I'll hold them to way past my forties,
Because I have nothing left of you except your DNA.
All the stories of us I've come to appreciate,
But...
What was a four year old really suppose to remember?
Is there really a Christmas miracle every December?
Come January, will I be able to walk any farther
As a man without ever knowing or having a father?

I wanted to write you a poem yesterday
But something along the lines of alone
Left that feeling washed away.

I wanted to write about how I'm here for you
But I guess you wanted something clearly new.
I was stressed from what words to use
To hopefully paint colours to your blues.
I could write of your smile
How it shined lights from a million miles
How your eyes were the right shape and colour
And they could stare into souls, pass the exterior covers.
How you appeared in my dreams
How you were beautiful
And ripped interlocked fingers like seams
So the sunrise and you had something in common.
Your sense of humour and words
Are to be envied by those who lacked.
Keep on shining

The word love was new to me
It was a strange concept
One I only ever saw on set.
Hollywood glamourised the word
Made peacocks out of normal birds
and taught that love always works.
There isn't a single soul mate,
There is no real workings of fate,
It takes trust, effort and patience.

I followed love, expecting a film,
I became a bit of a bitter bird,
but it was thanks to you,
that I realised, it only takes love
for love to work.

I've been thinking about the word crush
And how you were my first
And how better days became worse.
I sat behind you in English,
Every two p.m Tuesday was a picnic
And I dreaded when the class was finish.
I remember ignoring the world
From all the words the teachers hurled
I heard none of it,
Made fun of it,
to make you laugh.

The only time I ever saw your face
Was on my way to my desk,
But when it came to your fashion sense,
Or your favourite taste
I'd already known them all
Before I even knew you.

You did not look back all year,
Till the end of the year
When you and I were face to face
To tell me
'I've been shy, I wonder if you'd like lunch',
Trying to mask my joy, I giggled
'Yes I'd like that very much, place and time?'

You never appeared,
And that was the end of the year,
So now I know the meaning of the word crush,
I know of how you left my heart to crush,
I could c-the rush before everything fell apart.
You were just a crush.

A few years ago
We were an item
Thinking that our
Love was a titan.

You'd call me an a-hole,
I'd call you my *****,
Our vocabulary wasn't
Exactly labelled rich.

I painted a portrait
Of an ex that was crazy
with the tainted ink of
heartbreak and immaturity.

You grew happier
And I grew bitter
Like the taste of a
lettuce that withers.

All of the hostility
Was my own ocean
Drowning deep denial
And inner emotions.

I have grown mature,
Since being with you,
Appreciated that skies
will forever remain blue.

I have found a special
Someone who makes me
Wish to be the best version
Of myself that I could be.

My sun, my moon, my stars,
That cluster of hopeful light
Providing me with comfort
And warmth in the night.

I write this poem to
acknowledge my mistakes
Of breaking bonds by
Brandishing heartbreak.

You were not the crazy ex
That I made you out to be
And for all I've said
I hope I could say, I'm sorry.

I watched a world burn down
The greatest minds and hearts,
Where ash covered lost towns
I saw the destruction of art.

Some say it didn't happen,
Some say it never mattered,
I witnessed skyscrapers flattenend
And glass shards scattered.

I watched universes collapse
To essentially nothing but dust
And when I wanted to relax
I watched my reality rust.

I watched people destroy too many books
And too many lives
And too many universes
And too many worlds
For one lifetime

Last night I thought I could live without you
Tonight I thought I couldn't live without you.
I guess I'm convincing myself for what I'm about to do...
For what I have to do....
To live without you...

To dream a chain to the Victorian Era
leave the shadows casting of isolation
where held hands held significance
and 'I love you' was not said in summation.

A rose bud grew in an arid desert
each perfect proper piece of petal
gave of its own sense of charm
and stood statically special.

I watched the rose bud picked
off the ground in asperity
while I hesitated to be heard
and I watched it crumble terribly.

I sat in desolation, in my own oasis,
I wedded the rose in my hand,
dreamt of a victorian era rose
and saw distance between two lands.

I will forever hold the rose in memory
As a reminder of the scent of last June
coerced to feel a faint of love in heart
by nothing more than conversations at noon.

Well the stages
Were lit for these people
And those pages,
Demanded another sequel.

The stroke of a pen,
The swipe of a blade,
Dare to do this again?
Do I let myself be afraid?

Each sequential simile,
Painted the portrait
That was given to me
of emotional anguish and torture.

While sunbathing in the shadows
I let the thoughts consume me
And as I'm alone, praying not to explode,
I remember the way that you'd hold me.

I was breathing, speaking, hurting,
a mask behind a rugged shell that was forgiving,
But under a slight gap in an undrawn curtain,
I was struggling, grieving, and tired of living.

The stage was roaring,
Viewers were watching, laughing,
And as I watched their smiles soaring,
I convinced myself to stop cutting.*
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I am not one day closer to death
I am having one extra day of living
And if I shall witness my final breath
I am leaving this world singing.

In my lack of sleep
I peed on a toilet seat
That was not the worst though
Because as the saying goes
You surely reap what you sow
And I sowed a bad seed,
I sowed hatred from the love
That a girl showed me.
I made a puddle of ***
A muddled up mess
And I must confess
I've finally learnt of regret.
No matter how much you wipe it off
You'd hang your head in shame
Knowing that you let a droplet of ***
Land on what was a pristine toilet seat.
So you stand there apologising
Realising no matter how much you do
The toilet seat will never take you back.

So you hold your heart
Pretend it's not shaking
Pretend it's not breaking
And slowly march on.

Maybe he's still alive, that sullen guy
who crept out of the abyss like a moth
and before we even knew the depth,
he saw light and chased every ray.

The beautiful girl unbeknownst by touch,
slided,skated and glided on words
and the two of them flew on lexical wings,
afraid of falling from the heat that was love.

Guy and girl, found one another's arms,
Fought against an avalanche of cold snow,
they held each other against the mountains.

Love soon discovered it was labelled love,
And as my heart awoke to thoughts of you,
suddenly your heart became a guiding light.

To love or not to love; That is the question:
Whether to hold hearts hidden in shade
Or to let loose the leashes and allow escape;
Was't in her beautiful smile,
Or was't in how her mind was such alike to mine,
Nay!. It was the way she looked like the sun,
as it shone light on the moon,
Never to expose its flaws
But to embrace its beauty.
The way she makes me laugh non-stop
Simple by just one message
Or the way she show her care for me
Despite never meeting me yet.
I can not wait to be able to confess my love
To her as we are immersed nothing
but each other's embrace.

To love or not to love; that is the question:
And to love , is always the solution.

We spend so much of our lives
Afraid to say the things
That we finally come to regret
And all the words become secrets
From the ears of those who
deserve every right to hear them.

I know I have spent most of my life
Afraid to say the things in my heart
So I let the words decay into shadows
Where they are hidden from the light.

If I could take every chance
To do things all over
I would tell myself to be less afraid
To keep my words out of the shade
Where they become mesmerised by
The light.
I would tell you that I love you
That you are the only one who has
my heart and that all the things
I'm afraid to say, I can say it
when I think about you
reflecting those same words
back to me.

At the start we were afraid
To say what was really in our hearts
And little did we know
That both our hearts felt the same.
Connected by one simple
yet complex word
Love.