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DRPQ May 2016
cruel, and yet dainty to the touch
shattering, sparkling -- these wondrous things of yesterday
caressing the aching -- breaking parts of me
words and pictures
faces and dreams
i wish to bring it all back
to feel the weight of what was the world then draping over me
pristinely etched on with what was -- memories
when even the phrase "i miss you" held no bounds
it is much lighter in my chest compared to when i hold these
DRPQ May 2016
with my very own eyes, i see the rotten flesh of mine die

deader than dead

upon gazing on a walking mirror — a material-less self

i wish i did not speak nor spoke in a different way

lest not think this day

when people are horrible — horribly

just like me

just like me

lately, i have been illiterate.

hasty is this mouth that has beheld bad composures upon being looked upon at all

for i am not a flower to gaze at, nor a star to wonder

i do not see myself at all

since all i am is all that worries this precious soul

and i blind myself with me

here it is again, the same old topic, the same old story, the same old rant

about a word i will not mention for it is already too bland

on the tip of my tongue — i wish it would be gone

its meaning sure is, i wish it never did

loneliness is key

to be filled with pertinent happiness, at least only to fill

we are containers

containers with holes

containers with moles

i hate this obliterating gaze

that kills the curiosity in others

if only i could take it off like shades,

maybe then i could make a good mother

nobody has ever regarded me as the person i would like to be

young and sweet and graceful in all sides

maybe this is why

if it is within my circle of salt,

i guess i will stay

but to look out the window

to see what it’s like outside

that in which — all together, is another story

take away this garbage bag of a heart

take away these knives to the throat

i am not an angel nor a dove

i would want the best from above

but not from me
DRPQ May 2016
i don't know who i am; supposed to be -- if only you were to love me -- only when i am the perfect replication of your mind's child.

your sharp, unforgiving words do not reduce who i am,
though all the more i feel unloved.

instead, i have reduced myself to a four-year-old child hoping, wishing, pleading to be loved even a bit -- by you.

by what i thought were sincere hugs & kisses,
*good morning & goodnight.
DRPQ Feb 2015
Hello, goodbye. Whenever you want.
Love or die, that's all the options I've got.
A window is where I look through to
see what you do.
Daily, weekly, yearly, fondly do you do these busy things you do.
You come home late, say hello
Talk about your day, talk about your highs and lows.

And do I have to say?
Nothing. For I am your figment.

You ask me if I still do,
I say yes, holding forever in my heart.
But what impact does that hold to a busybody like you?

But without this past, you are hardly home.
In fact this is not your home anymore.
You only comeback when you can,
just because of pity
just because of regret
just so maybe you can still fix the little ebbing in my heart
to fix the reason why there still might be a ghost of me left somewhere.

And this I am,
You very special figment.

You say you still do,
in the most vague ways.
But I obviously don't stand a chance
to her ways that amaze.

She's real, I'm not.
I am forever your figment.
DRPQ Feb 2015
"Don't cry. Please."
I wouldn't cry if I could.
I would die to my selfish sulk if I could.
I would care to not want if I could.
"If only I could," she replied.
Good night, nothing will change.
Good night, forever be the same
Good night, never-ending good night.
"Don't cry."
Why do I even?
Why do I sigh?
Why do I keep this on, lie for lie?
"Good night," she said.
Nothing will change.
Forever will stay the same.
The never-ending good nights,
and the want to say more.
DRPQ Feb 2015
there is so much going on inside of me
I do not understand it
I wish I was like you
who wouldn't care at all if I subsided
if my trinkets be forgotten,
"That's okay," because life is like that.
"That's okay," that you repeat what you say and then not mean it.
"That's okay," that we squander time like the future won't care to see.
"That's okay," I know our love will die anyway, because life is like that.
Life is like that.
I wish I was as passive as you are.
DRPQ Feb 2015
"I wish you were real."
She kept crying every night for days and for every restless, sleepless moment you could ever count. It felt like an eternity before this ever had to end.

She never knew that one day
she would wake up and realize that she's had it with all these damp cheeks, dried up tears, clogged nostrils, and sniffling pains.
She never knew that she would throw the very thing that meant the universe to her into the black hole, into the oblivion.
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