It's a fruit and a flavor
Could be a hue of a color
A tint and a pigment
A portrait and scent

Sometimes, they're your cheeks
The warmth of bright crimson blatant
It's a rare feeling that seeks
An affection in a full crescent

It could be accessories, too
The way those glossy cherries shine
In a hard denim fabric
Embroidered patches on light or navy blue
Stickers on faces, easily frantic
And chains just beneath your exposed mid-thighs

It's innocent, bold, and compulsive
They sparkle within your eye
Its pure nectar peregrinates through your veins
Becoming your blood and cry

It's a powerful topping
That's why you're on top
It's sugary and charming
But you aren't sweet enough

My first glances did not quite match my perceptions
Forming a glossary of you is just an easy favor
Who else would thought that they couldn't be the next victim?
Because it's true that "cherry" is just a fruit and a flavor

Local cursors, yet so clever
Bribes an adrenaline
Her addiction through the keys
Felt like nicotine
Copy paste,
Copy paste,
How many words to chase?
Delete or erase,
She astonished a few mistakes
Only realizing with an aftertaste

She would scribble down new abbreviations
Silly explorations,
And sincere appreciations
Highlighting them in Italics

Countless minors criticize,
Eighteen, selected font size,
Affix buttons of grammars or otherwise,
The error might sound automatic

Detached quotations,
Unfinished conversations,
Unprepared preparations,
These flares are somewhat emphasized in Bold

Published chapters,
Wasted hours,
She double-dipped in his sweet & sour traits
And then betrayed her own heart of Gold

Clueless about who is who
Fruitless coos
And disappointed too

You have a bucket catalog of don'ts & dos
Revealing truths,
And vibrant cues, of a fake doll

Once in the clouds, you'll eventually float
Unless you sugarcoat,
In an area,
Of the seas and the boats

Your lips should not deny
It's obvious in a blink of an eye
Crack the arms attached to a wall clock

Thy surroundings may whistle
Because you're a crossword and a riddle
Hijacked footprints sizzle

Cloning faces ain't your thing
Cloning personas ain't your thing
Inaudibly ridiculed, yes, I owe you this

Lit lavender candles matter
Saccharine firecrackers don't
I am slowly typing your documentary.
Still halting for a sidehill, plot twist

In a frigid, noiseless town,
there is a gingerbread house nearby a cornfield,
countless shafts to count.

You can enter if you dare,
in most shadows, a Witch with a long chiffon hair,
on the other hand, in the cabin, a jester with the evil most chimes,
oh dear, have you seen a clown who doesn't smile?

Narrow thy footsteps, come close and open the gates,
creepy hollows with gestures and prisoned in hates.
Eerie noises shall be heard,
hearing them say, "no sudden movements,
or someone will get hurt."

Shaky hands, numb knees, but why did you visit the town?
Some of the foreign trees will howl with horrible, horrible frowns.
Flying obsidian black bats and unusual whispers of beasts,
try to brawl once, a critter will attempt to seize.

From the unforgettable nightmares to royal fairytales,
legends had spoken, a scarce of theories are no fraud-flames.
An antidote towards a man with a hook,
strive to wake the undead,
empty path of wisdom is only straight ahead.

What's your favorite film?
"Before I Wake,"
"Keep Watching,"
"It," or "Shut In,"
Or even "Razors to the Heart" by Shakespeare?
It's alright not to bid out, but don't you deny it,
because they can chase your fears.

Imagine the corpses,
swimming over from where they have drowned,
for so many years, they are only attached to the ground,
with the taste of freedom,
now they're ready to construct sinister-like sounds.

You're such a candid being, good and wise,
I hope you've been warned to never enter twice.
Authentic myths, haunted ghouls, and frightening creatures that are rarely to be seen,
Oh, we just want to greet you,
a Happy Holloween.

Relevant then hatred,
All at once in a different state
Portals and doors,
Your love for someone
Nobody can duplicate

Assorted adrenaline
Filed up in a contrasted room
Primal theories,
For selections that we may and may not pursue
Planets unite,
Though a few should be kept hidden
They stumble forwards and get installed in a granite,
Enchanting, yet a fearsome tinted enigma

Bolted in the word, "privacy",
And the key was a puma's race
Infidelity democracy,
Saved but aren't erased

Archived courses shall remain
May the forgotten be remembered in drunk mishaps
Only my feelings for you are sustained,
Permanent nor Temporary,
Located in the district called; a file of drafts

I saw your spaceship in the sky
For the first time, I was inspired
Whisk down myself from my pallor state
Explore your traces on the other side

I was told to not listen
I was told to not deprive
The agony's waiting
For my ego and essence to combine

Oh, how false it is to hear
That the children know the answers
We are saints who became sinners
Viruses whom itself the healers

Oh, how false it is to see
The people down in the forest
Singing a beautiful chorus
Where anyone's forced to swallow phosphorus

Flicker once, flicker twice
Heaven turns, rocks will rise
Remain untold and remain unwise
A planet where else no one criticizes

Flicker once, flicker twice
March up to the sea
Take me up, seal the door
Though I don't want to march here anymore

The pantaloon
The silver spoon
The lady walks
Unto the moon
Remembrance and escapades
I will perish alone,
Very soon

Sunset vine in the suppressed crowd
Heart's pounding so hard and loud
A whole thread with extreme machines
They're somewhat things I've never seen

Pigmented cheeks, numb veins, soul enchanted
These are moments that I've wanted
Gleaming stars from above are mesmerizing
Hours are enough and totally amazing

Giggles and screams, joy and beams
Hearing them is like a dream
Few blissful thoughts, we're off gravity
This lovely day shows pink sanity

Cursive words, laughing in snickered wheels
Blended soothing air and hilarious feels
Rising of stomachs with butterflies attended
Raw and pesky clubhouse but independent

Pale flowers blooming in most gardens
Typical teens with sneakers and Kankens
The finale is a beautiful screenplay
Looking forward to more treasuring portraits

Freshly made memories are quite unforgettable
Afterwards, I'd exclaim, "It's actually memorable,"
Neon signs glistening clear and bright
Locked sensation with the floating lights

I have to tell myself
That I am weak
Every minute,
Every hour,
Every week, months or so

How my muscles bent down
Feeling the pain increase
Softened like fawn
And my happiness at ease

I shouldn't be on "sale",
For nobody wants to purchase a damaged item
No one shall hail,
Throw a bail,
Inhale and exhale,
Cheap noises; though they prefer to hear them

How many times
Do I have to fake a smile?
To listen to jokes,
And to commit an unusual crime
I'd listen to music,
And get entertained,
After that, I'd fake another one
And then again

I once believed, "getting a scar will show people that you're adventurous",
But I'm still weak to even risk it
And then I realized I wasn't so afraid at all
It was a tiny bravery, isn't it?

I was brave to throw glasses upon the walls
I was brave to crush a promise ring
I was brave from crying until midnight falls
I was brave for slitting the blade through my skin

I wasn't so weak at all, it's true
Maybe I wasn't that strong enough,
To admit and accept the poll
That this type of valor,
Were caused by a faulty call

I may look unevenly pale
For I have fractured down my fragile pieces
Watch the sun,
Then hold the gun,
Inhale, but do not exhale
This is a forced run
This is the end where another life has begun

Aren't you getting drowsy?
From that rubber feeling being smudged inside
With the white lies, you're trying to hide
And answers that you cannot find

Human Pacifier
You feed them hope, you feed them glory
You feed them joy, even their exigency
You give your lasts and your entirety
Did they do the same?

Of course, they detect
That you're holding unto a Placebo Effect
Knows you're stoic and benevolent
So they keep sending amenable threats

Someday, it will trigger you
Your aspired esteem and prisoned wounds
Where you realize you need to fulfill "you",
Erase the 'shoulds' and do 'coulds'

It's not your fault being so tolerant
It's meant to happen though it's not meant to stay
It's not your duty to be the second hand
Just to be used and strayed

Recognize your worth
You must know when to leave the table
When you feel like being disabled,
Guard your heart and guard your castle
Because prevention is better than cure

You were my drug, the first toxin that I can ever touch.
You were my ecstasy that once sent me over the clouds.
You were my puzzle that I have to fix & break.
You were my maze, had to find my way out and discover the pain.

You were the shimmer that went gloomy when the
marigold sun struck in.
You were the smile that faded when some gleeful
music comes playing in.

You were the unpleasant scent of flowers when they perish under their petal skin and lastly, you were my foremost and last kiss, when you were still lively and keen when we were sixteen.

All of these are my rotten wishes, lulled and attached to the bottom of my pale and weakened heart. Nobody has any idea how colorless I have become when you left me dying, pleading, suffocating─for the sake of our deep altruism. Yes, it's correct, I had been in a euphoric bliss level when both of our unclad bodies were still unbothered and interlocked. And now that you're gone, your unutterable charisma is no longer to be seen and felt, I have no choice but to live with the memory of you and all of these silly, plausible illusory contours that can keep my head afloat.

"Annie, can you get me another box?"

Anastasia's Mother sneers, finishing her last stick. Sure she heard it, that's why she's running up the stairs to their old town house's roofs.

There, she saw the Mother of her life, stood moderately at the edge. Although her Mom looked homeless, with messy hair and wearing cheap clothes, Anastasia still thinks she's beautiful. From her Mother's pale and dark shaded lips, the picture of her habitual smoking and to the bags of her eyes. Anastasia saw sorrow and humiliation.

"Another box? But isn't that the third one this week?" She questioned. The concerned girl stared at her wasted Mother who just huffed at the moment.

"Just do it, baby." Her Mother commanded. A sigh escaping from Anastasia's mouth as she nodded in full obedience.

"Alright, Mother."

She walked down the steps again, reaching out for money from her own wallet as she headed out.

The wind is pretty frisky this day. The cold air fogging up the populated skies as its getting darker in the entry of the night. The breezy air is tugging at her skin, hugging her petite body. She doesn't have any thick clothing or a layer, nor a jacket to support her now shivering body.

She went to quickened her walking, knowing that her Mother won't be staying up the roofs sooner and the cold air is truly bothering her.

Finally arriving at her station, she entered the shop and she went straight to the counter.

"A box of Marlboro reds, please." Anastasia half smiled, waiting for the counter guy to get one. Once handed, she waited for her change as a boy around her age went beside her.

"A pack of Camel light, please." The boy with raven locks said.

"One-second sir."

She stays patient. She went to look at the boy beside her again, only seeing him looking at her box then to her. She decided to brush it off as her change is handed to her. Anastasia exited the shop to only find that the skies had turned darker.

She turned her heels to the same path to their home as she went straight back to the house.

■ ■

"Don't tell him a single detail about me." Anastasia's Mother said sternly.

"I'll see you soon, Mother." She replied. As soon as she has the chance to leave, she quickly did.

Walking out the door, she pulls a cigarette out from a pack that she got from her Mother's. She calmly lights it up, though she makes sure that she's going to the right path to the Boat Station.

That night, last night, her Father called. Her Father told her to come by the Ocean. She loves things like this, admiring beautiful places at peace and just having deep thoughts about randoms.

Since both of her parents are divorced, Anastasia has to spend her time separately with them. Although her family background is broken, she still believes that quality time is important. Especially when you're the only daughter.

When she arrives, she saw a bunch of males hopped to a Downeast cruiser. She went for another stick of cigarette as she waits for the guys to settle the boat.

Once finished, she sees her Father coming towards her as another man followed him. Seeing her Father smile, she knows that he is happy to see her, happy that her daughter finally visited him again.

"My dear, sunshine." Her Father greeted with the widest smile ever. As they both embrace each other, she reassembles herself and stared to her Father's features.

He didn't change much. Twenty percent of his beard had grown, his skin also went tanner and his noticeable bags underneath his grey eyes is an evidence that he has been working hard these days.

And she felt her heart spun a bit, it's not breaking but it's pinching with joy.

"I've missed you, Father." She spoke, voice cracking and eyes glistening.

Her Father went to cup his daughter's cheeks with both hands and smiled. She felt the warmth and the love to her one and only man, and that is her Dad.

"My apologies. Anastasia, this is Captain Adamson, he's our new lead sailor." Her Father added as he introduced the man beside him.

"Please to meet you, young lady."

"You too, Sir."

She looked up to Captain Adamson, he has the same features like her Father's. Same dry skin, oceanic eyes, firm and sturdy smile and just a typical sailor could be.

After a little talk, Captain Adamson and her Dad motioned her to get to the boat. Once lifted and settled, she saw old men and only men in the small place. She counted them, and in her calculations, they're about six or seven. But something spotted her eye...

A young boy, around her age probably, is one of the sailors. It surprises her a bit because she once thought earlier, she was the only youngster around here. But yet, she's wrong, but was she glad?

Feeling their boat move, she went over the edge as she let her body sway from her moving grounds. It was sure such a wonderful relief when they finally made it to the water.

She went to ignore the people around her as she decided to be alone at this moment.

At the edge, she swam through her thoughts. Deep ones like the ocean whom about twelve feet fall.

She thinks that what if the ocean is harmful, a violence and tolerant to other people. Like when you fall, you have nothing to do but to drown through the steep and heavy surface. Although its water, she can still think its a huge burden to anyone's bodies.

Her fears hugged her, her anxiety embraced her as she thinks of this. It made her shiver, not just from the wind but also to the awful life she has. It made her cringe once, now she'll cringe forever.

Grabbing another stick from the box, lighting it up as she blows one. She let the tobacco smoke combines with the coastal air, she watches it and she somehow feels satisfied.

Tapping her right shoe in a tune, she also hummed the unspoken lyrics, feeling the rhythm. She sips and blows, sips and blows, again and again. It doesn't seem to end, though her Father has its rules. Nothing she heavily worries about because she knew its always a mild segment.

After the stick has reached its filter, she flickers the used cigarette from the running waters as she lets out a sigh.

Casting a shadow beside her, she sees the youngster staring at her with an unexplainable look. He eyes her up and down in a respectful way as Annie didn't make a single move.

"You know, a filter can destroy the ocean too." The boy speaks. Anastasia shrugged her shoulders as she grabs another stick.

"So." She coldly said, though the boy sort of expected this coming.

"So its trash, it's not good." She rolled her eyes to the boy. A silly conversation about Nature isn't the right mood for the day today.

"Nope. I am trash." She chuckled like she's some kind of a joker telling puns whenever.

"I like that, Miss. My name's Keith Adamson, the--

"The Captain's son, I get it." She finished the boy's statement as a small smile form on her face.

"You do?" He questioned, playing it all in.

"Yeah, that's why you're so talkative about the waters." She shrugged again.

"Right, but I'm sure I've seen you before." The boy guessed and it clicked her head quickly.

"From the convenient store?" She grinned, making Keith nod in agreement.

There was a moment of silence in between them, did she care nor did she thinks its awkward? No. She went to lift her box from her pocket and motioned the youngster beside her. In her surprise, he gladly took one as she offers a lighter.

"So, Daddy sailor business?" Keith asks, giving Annie a small nudge.

"Not really, are you often around here?"

"You can say that. But why did you come here?"

"I don't think you deserve to know."

Anastasia's smile turned into a smirk, feeling her words with power. What does she call it? Sarcasm? Probably, but therefore, it's just the based truth.

"Feisty. Just so you know, I only come here to help my Father. Sailing ***** but I enjoy the ocean, a lot." Keith babbled as it made her nod her head.

"Me too, but not when you're in it." Her voice went weak as she feels her whole body become numb.

Heavy.

Heavy.

Just heavy, all are heavy.

"What do you mean?" The boy asked again. She knew she wanted to tell him but she respects her own privacy. Maybe she can, in a more intellectual way.

"Like the waves, they're a big struggle in a person's body. When you drown, you drown, why keep convincing yourself to dive up when you know its already too late?"

At this moment, she thinks about her Mother, her Father, and just the tree family she used to be in. The happy, normal and complete people, she misses that. Their silly moments and the happy memories, she wants it all back. Now that its ruined, damaged, broken, well name it. She still thinks she's contented. Why? Whatever god knows why.

"The waters are so much sweeter if the waves wouldn't step further like a hurricane, you know?" She smiled again. She then turned to her right, she sees her new friend with a confused expression.

"Wow, too deep to understand aye."

The both of them started laughing. At some thoughts, she's glad that she met Keith. He's so much more, She thinks he's more of a something.

"Everyone, get ready to sail!" A sailor's voice rung around the companied boat as they both of them got alarmed.

"Ready to fight the waves, Anastasia?"

"How'd you know my name, little sailor boy?"

Anastasia is not surprised that Keith knew her name. Many conclusions collided to her head but one resulted among them all.

"May I point whom your Father is?"

Without second thoughts, she nods her head. And she knows for sure, that she's ready to fight the waves.

Fourteen years old,
Story untold
I fell in love with Charlie,
And he nerded
As never before

I still make coffee
For two,
Watching quietly
From every door frame
Grumpy olf soundman---
Needs to love too,
Strange namr,
Transparent shame,
Instant fame

Sold belongings
Become Itinerant
Poetry librarian,
Semi colons;
I use them to excess
Supported the sublime
With uncurbed---
Enthusiasms

Changing mind postponed
Demise by decades,
Later-life serendipity
Led to Authorland

I was born some assembly
Required,
Anything's possible with---
An extension cord
Cried,
Defied, denied,
Sighed,
Died,
Reapplied,
Mistakenly kills kitten,
Fears anything delicate

Three words, seven syllables,
"Abandoned and Forgotten",
--- are the words expressing its situations,
Where places and people became blinded to be rotten

In a town, far, far away,
A location that cannot be searched
Rushing schemes like ocean waves,
Motown Era is a town, unlabeled, ever since its birth

Over a decade, the same problems whines and roars,
Like a graft of dawn, no berries shall bear
As thick as filthy layers of dust with sharp thorns,
Beholding the darkness of poor crimes that this town wears

Destiny's children, eight twilights of wonders,
They came to bless the southern area,
They believe in themselves, that this obstacle is what they need to--conquer,
Re-battling against all odds for the sake of Motown Era

By the whispers from the tightened pipes though their broken leaks
Eyes as clear and observant like a magnifying glass
Unbreakable stone-like-golden hands of the big sixteen,
How long will the suffering last?

Divided shades but each and everyone has different stances
Quick, eerie sounds are to be heard with fire-proof antenna
Nevertheless, every types of particles deserves second chances,
Introducing to you the desperate map-reacher,
The town of Motown Era

Peace of mind,
Let it grind,
Huffing through my sentiments,
No words left behind

You said you're fathomless,
A riddle and meaningful,
High objections, genuine rejections
How come you make me stutter like a fool?

I want my poems to bit,
Vigorous and keen to have teeth,
So the venom in each letter shall sink in---
To your skin, may heap

You said you're logic
Then where's your common sense?
Clearly, you're imperceptive,
Because I know how you're tensed

Attempting to toss me a bullet of pressure,
Locating the verge of anxiety
You're none of the amenable people,
Who would understand and know its variety

Sugarcoated scars and deep comprehension
Thin head's blurry, that's why you have complications
No offense though---

Keep your mouth on line, you half presented amateur
Go ahead and be conceited like an apathetic's chimes
But honestly, at all, you don't even have a
Peace of mind

He loves me, he loves me not
A constant phase and a common thought
Spins like a halo occasionally
And it summons me unforgivingly

He loves me, he loves me not
Don’t lose hope, don’t get caught
Losing florets over the flower shop
So obsessed, I couldn’t stop
For I keep plummeting petals
Hands are excessive pedals

He loves me, he loves me not
My feeling’s loaded, my wisdom’s locked
Aid my soul inside the casket,
over the garden,
My harvested heart bleeds red,
Red as garnet

He loves me, he loves me not
Still waiting for a twist to the plot
Maybe tomorrow or maybe not
I can’t remain forever-aiming and then rot

He loves me, he loves me not
It’s getting cold and it gets hot
I can volunteer to squeeze myself until death
Because I’m running out of guesses

He loves me, he loves me not
A rising action and a falling one
What’s done with the rises,
when I am the fallen one?
I faded once but I’m alright
What a fool, to have another try
Here’s to the planets that can be worthwhile

Purple and gradient
Notice the track of confusion?
Pressured and impatient
A path of endless conclusions

Bulletproof smirks and laughter
Triggering words of slumber
Sympathetic type of daughter
Less chances of buried happily ever afters

Unfinished sentences
Unspoken truths
Lack of confidence
Damaged youth

Tolerance of taking advantage
Scalps of pure insanities
Risking the removal of its personal privilege,
Her outer-space speaks Anxiety

Double jointed decision
Doctor's orders to always take permission,
Tied tongue to clasp the farewell
But formal speeches did not seem to go well

Alphabet traces drifted to the hole of her skull,
Plum lips bruised with a violet and violent scar,
For the surroundings became capably dull,
Everyone is forever ready to **** an innocent heart

Petite, pixie tangerine
As mawkish as the taste of something saccharine
Ludicrous, gawky pair of vague hoops
Forbidden with the cheapest boos

Body's wrapped in a fiery Mongolian coat
Personality-shelves loaded with gloat
She is made of silver and gold
Though in three hundred and sixty-five days,
She had lost courage, had lost hope

The juvenile decided to go red in rust
Like her heart, her blood, her wrath, and her pampers
She puffily cries for help and for the pity,
For the exposed and the logical ******,
Thereby, her cheekbones bulged inhumanely,
Stock-still, specked with a festoon of Simper

Such an extravagant trailblazer
A Sangria wine in hand and a fruit ****
With a similar gleam of her deep, raspberry gloss
And the way her chapped lips touched the rim,
It's not as fascinating as it seems,
Because she knows on her part that her heart is lost

A beloved nugget of stripes
In patterns of mishap and balderdash
Feigned frameworks and gaudy hips & knees
Overpowered sugar pops, winsome hard cash

They're blondes and fairly vivid, too
Daffodils, Butterscotch, Tuscan sun, and Flaxen yellow
No blackheart is pale nor blue
Just a poor Biscotti hue
Nobody's bonafide, they're just showing off the mellow

Their words are such sharp needles
It burns, it stings, it maims, and it breaks
Narrowed venoms kindled
Maneuver you in a splendor Kaleidoscope effects

I shrieked, "save the bees!",
For they are in a fathomless pit of catastrophe
Flutter thy pellucid wings over the sly seas
Flummoxed between the avocation and the trickery

I aimed, they dodged
Straightforward to the flames and a scant of birch trees
Overdosed in farcical prescriptions,
Engulfed with many bad decisions,
They hushed me down but in my mind, I would still be yelling,
"Save the bees! Save the bees!"

Women are indeed virtuous
Yet, how come some of them became Bumblebees?
Floret power, sweet & sour
An infrequent version of wannabes
No matter how I try and aid,
It would be cheap and phooey
Only savvy kinsfolk will exploit or capitalize
These honey-bees will still strive for the polished trophies

isn't it bittersweet?
how our parallels meet so sweet
the way we smile, when we show our teeth
it's not so tiring

never jaded by the repetitive cycle
gears are ready to the arriving battles
weapons are edgy, prepared to rumble
non-exhausting

this proximity ain't absolute without warmth
because heat is the firing art
a touch of spice is the endearing part
it's not so tiring

every second, every minute
there comes a time when we thought about quitting
but we are each other's motivation
then we kept going and said,
"it's not exhausting"

everything seems so nice
like a perfect house of cards
but it's starting to fall apart
and it slowly breaks my heart

confuse, refuse
radiant, abuse
mistaken, rebuke
forgiveness, I choose

first, I fiddled the turmoil to see what was wrong
then I asked fervent questions to see what was wrong
third, I sought help above the clouds then hummed my song
but nothing seems so wrong, what happened?

I tried bringing stains to the discoloration
I tried serving flavor to the tasteless correlation
I tried giving hints to the dying consideration
and see if there's a resurrection to our disconnection

it's proof that too much sugar
can over sweetened you
and too much spice
can truly burn you

yes, I got tired
and I supposed you did, too
the ingredients of our love
are not as stable as it used to

we may have been unbalanced
or fell out of the missing pieces
we shouldn't forget the essence
of how we both started

it was tiring yet exhausting,
how miraculous it is that we didn't die
if 'nice' is what we yearn,
I think we should give it another try

Here's a poetic division for a boy who caused a dozen,
A dozen expectations and a bucket of hope.
But was I hopeless?
Yes, I was, and it felt tight like a strangling rope.

If I could count those glances and stares that you threw, I would.
To me they're unexplainable but I know there is a meaning.
Those dark orbs of yours sometimes lighten and a shade of grey,
They keep taunting me, under pressure, made my heart beating.

Sweet talk, sweet words, sweet nothings.
How come they zoned out to be a foul?
There is nothing to blame, not even my challenged reputations.
Afterall, it did not matter, because you made me fall.

I cannot forget your hints, they're all stuck in my head.
Every little word you say is quite tangible.
But I regret everything, all the unsolved puzzles,
This memory is the worst and surely unforgettable.

Your label's blank, erased, and unnamed,
I had scorched down my crown and of course, my ability.
As fragile and broken as a cracked vase,
Blue boy, you should know that you're nothing to me.