The promises you made
Above my grave
Seeped through the soil
The sky flared
Outlining your heart
Orange
Red
Green
Bleeding
Your tears fell to rest
On my skeletal tongue
Satisfying my dusted trachea
Morbid Moons
Dancing throughout
The Lilac sky
You've been here too long
And I believed every promise
That you sowed in my ribcage
So take what's left
Of my pressurized heart
Take your Lilac dipped lies
Tie them off
Sell them to another lover
Before morrow ends
Take my pen
Cast it out to sea
If only so it will bleed
All of the truths
That you  never confessed to me
And I to you
Because isn't that what's best?
Sugar coated lies
With honeyed eyes
And frayed rays of sunshine
Goodbye lovely
I'll see you another morrow
Once Apollo rises
And once Ra sets
After Luna shimmers in the sky
I'll wish you away
From the base of my grave

i slept with my phone on last night
clutched it tight in my hand as i tried to fall asleep
regretting the topic i brought up but hoping to feel the heartbeat simulation
the vibration set to your contact buzz in the palm of my hand
waiting for answers knowing that you weren’t doing the same when i wasn’t replying
realising that i have destroyed any possible non platonic feeling you have for me by bringing up the pain that’s festered inside for three weeks
i slept with three blankets on last night
still shivering cold from anxiety
the cold didn’t vanish even when i added more blankets
i slept with a hope last night
a hope that you’d realise in the morning that even after this fight i’m still worth it
a hope that your fear of committing would vanish and you’d come to your senses
i still hold the hope tight, as i did my phone when i fell asleep last night.

Battling depression is;
Clean fingernails
Under fresh pillow-cased beds
When you forget to eat
But in the good way
Paying bills
On time
For everything
Being able to be late just once
Showering always
Scrubbing
Not crying.

Time is an abstract.
These days I often have trouble remembering things.
I am writing to remember a significant chunk of my life. You.

Two years ago, you told me that I’d end up a deeply unhappy person, if I was,
who I was.

Two years ago, today I know that, I didn’t know what I was wearing.
I wore depression.
I wore an amour of sadness that I called “my guard”,
which I deliberately kept up.
My guard that was embroidered with the finest class of anxiety.
You hated it.

Two years ago, you were swimming in my sea,
while I couldn’t even dip my toe into your lake,
because of “my guard”.
Perhaps that’s why I had to hear it repeatedly.
“You’re going to end up a deeply unhappy person, if you are, who you are.”
I’d tell you that’s the reason why you fell in love with me in the first place.
Because, I, was your challenge.  

Today, I remember that I am going to be a deeply unhappy person if was, who I was.
Today, I am giving you answers you always craved.
You tell me that I am playing a blame game, and that’s okay.

You see, two years later, I still have “my guard”.
I am happy, unhappy.
But, I am not going to let a passing fit become who I am.
Perhaps, I am slower than the pace you needed me to be at.
One day, I will catch up,
and you will be sorry.