I am truer than my lies,
Louder than my doubts,
Surer than my insecurities;

I am fairer than my flaws,
Heavier than my airs,
Quieter than my anxieties;

I am stronger than my failures,
Calmer than my rages,
Happier than my tears;

I am humbler than my vanities,
Wiser than my mistakes,
Bigger than my fears.

*(c) emeraldine087

I said something explosive and scathing.
     You cringed and stepped away.
There was pain in your eyes, so haunting
     that made me want to take back what I'd said.
You bit your trembling lower lip,
     disbelieving what you'd just heard.
You wished to dismiss it as a joke, a sarcastic fib.
     I just scoffed and called you absurd.
"I meant everything," I said.
     "Whether you'd accept it or not."
I rolled my eyes and shook my head
     and turned abruptly 'round.
Your footsteps echoed from behind,
     heavy as my faintly beating heart.
It's amazing that I was able to hide
     despite my resolve, trampled and marred.
How I long to face you again, look into your eyes.
     So you can see the anguish of my spirit,
hardened and disguised by bitter lies,
     dying and shriveling bit by painful bit.
The flame of my being is scorching inside,
     throwing away all that could be, might be.
The pain is crushing; words can't describe.
     I wish you, too, can feel it; I wish you can see.

That if it was the fiercest, purest pain for you,
     it was a thousand-fold for me.

There's no one who bugs me, irks me and makes me mad.
There's no one who hounds me, pesters me and irritates me.
There's no one who angers me by forgetting special occasions,
or forgetting to call,
or gets unsalted butter rather than salted at the grocers.
Only You.

There's no one who makes me roll my eyes
with his twisted philosophy, illogical excuses and faked innocence.
There's no one who makes me purse my lips in disagreement,
when he comes home from so-called overtime work,
smelling of cigarette smoke and whiskey.
There's no one who makes me bare my teeth with exasperation,
when he doesn't talk when I want him to,
when he seems to not listen when I think he needs to.
Only You.

There's no one else who knows to buy me tulips,
when he's trying to ask for my forgiveness.
There's no one else who sings "Wonderful Tonight" off-key,
when he sees me in my most tattered pajamas,
with my hair standing on end
and my cheeks and neck crawling with rashes.
There's no one who cooks a meaner chicken soup,
when I'm sick and force-feeds it to me in bed.
Only You.

There's no one who kisses me in the sweetest,
most breath-taking way in the park,
in the rain while we're jogging.
There's no one who makes me laugh
with his spot-on impression of my favorite comedian,
while watching a home video on date night,
and sharing a big bowl of buttered popcorn.
There's no one who makes love to me in such a selfless,
most gentle way, making me feel like
I'm the most loved, most special girl in the world.
Only You.

There's nobody else who makes me love him,
who makes me want to keep loving him,
in all his perfection, all his imperfection,
all the things that make him a man.
There's nobody that I am most willing
to brave all the storms with,
nobody I desire to grow old with,
and give all of my self to...
Only You.

It’s as if I swallowed more than I can chew.
Or sunk deeper than I can swim.
Or inhaled further than I breathe.

Fingers like a vice
Squeezing mercilessly
Cutting out the air,
the throb of the pulse,
the life.

The eyes can only stay open
For so long, as the breath drains.

It’s as if my head
Is about to explode.
Or implode.
Or maybe there won’t be
So much drama.
Just a candle’s feeble light
Getting snuffed by a sudden gust.
And that it’s over before
I’m even aware that I’m dead.

Life’s fingers can be
So cruel sometimes.
Indiscriminate in its grip.

I can’t blame suicides
When they so desire
To escape life’s hold.

I doubt if anyone can smile,
Or laugh,
Or revel
And choke at the same time.

I can still remember the day
   you first spoke my name.
Like a prayer, like a wish,
   you whispered, you called.
I can still remember the first
   time you smiled at me.
Never, before you, have I been
   breathless. Never before
have I been frozen in one minute
   of eternity , deep in your eyes.
I can still imagine the way you
   used to kiss me. For a heartbeat,
I was someone; I was needed; I was
   blessed. For a long time, I lived
by your kisses, existed by your touch,
   carried on by your embrace.
I had never known bliss until you
   chanced upon me and fished me
out of the choppy seas. You loved
   me, simply as I loved you back.
And we once thought we were invincible
   in each other's arms. We were immortal
because of each other's love. Not even death
   could separate us. But we came
upon the end of the wonderful journey. It
   wasn't death that made us see.


It was choice.

Coffee. Desk. Ringing phone. Clacking keys.
This same pen. This same ******* pen,
that writes the same way—there is a thinning of the ink
in the curve of the E’s and the stroke of the Y’s
Endless stapling. I find myself gritting my teeth every time
as if I’m stapling my skin—or my hand. To my face.

The window behind me offers the same view
of the same skyline of the same ****** buildings!
Overcast, sunny, slight drizzle or deluge—
Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the rhythm of my heart
That is no different from the rhythm of my day.
I can’t even remember what happened yesterday. I just remember
The coffee. The desk. The ringing phone. The clacking keys.

At least this way, there’s no use fretting about tomorrow.
Because tomorrow—it’ll be that same pen. That same pathetic pen.

Sometimes, I want to cry. Cry for my wasted hours—days—life.
Cry for those clouds in the horizon that looked no different
from the same clouds in the same horizon yesterday.
Cry for the slowly dulling reds and greens and purples
in the canvas of this miserable life.
Howl for the Wonders of the World,
the Must Watch Movies Before You Die,
the 1001 Books You Have to Read Before You’re Dead,
that I will never get to savor.

Grays and Blacks and Whites.
So monochromatic.
So very monotonous.

                                                    ­       At least, in the few nights that I dream…
                                                          ­                                   I dream in color.