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gd Apr 6
If pain was a colour, I feel like it would be purple.
At the crossroads between the sadness of blue,
And the rage of red.
Bruised. Confused.
A consequence secondary to the impact.
Not intended to pierce skin, but lasting long enough to feel it.

How can love be the only thing able to create and destroy;
Mimicking the divine, yet making you lose faith in it altogether?

My eyes are coloured red.
Cheeks flushed with despair.
Salty tears splatter my sweater.
Nails chipped.
Sun down.
Clouded and silenced.

Disoriented from the recoil of a loaded gun pulled too soon.
Every melody sounds flat, but the ringing in my ears remain sharp.

I can only hear the faint hum of my heartbeat,
Attempting to carry on.
Barely blinking. Eyelids half shut.
Egg shells have turned into shards of glass on every floor I walk on. Disconnected. Discombobulated.
Disorganized. Disappointed.

A bleeding heart turned purple.
What would it take to feel whole again?

{I feel purple today}
gd Mar 8
I work black
from head to toe.
Snapped through two hair ties
trying to keep my mind and my heart together.

But it was no use.
because this godforsaken place was love-less
and cruel.

They say honesty without tact is just cruelty.
But honesty can slice your soul
just to spare your life at the very last second, too.
Every breath feels like the last.

Hanging onto the very last thread of normalcy.
When the clock reaches the final hour,
I pray for sweet mercy.
I pray for peace and peace of mind.

But I am left in pieces, nonetheless.

gd Aug 2021
There is no song in the whole wide world that would be able to capture this sadness. I hear notes in my head, but they all fall flat. Dissonance dominates my peripheral and the ringing leaves me bruised. And confused. It takes my breath away whilst suffocating me.

There is only hurt. There is only pain. There is only anger here - deep rage.

A place to call home has burned down from these flames. And I am watching the last few embers flickering from a distance. A homage to one heart split in two. And there is no amount of glue that can salvage these ashes. Hell, there is not even love to latch onto.

There is only hurt. There is only pain. There is no peace here.

{"you made me hate this city"}
gd Feb 2021
What if my trauma wins?

What if the doubts swallow me whole
because this is all I have ever known?
The darkness all around,
not even the slightest sound,
but my heart beats like ocean waves
leaving me to tire,
begging me to drown.

They’ve made my chest feel heavy for hours,
for days,
for weeks,
sleep reeks of tears suppressed,
sheets a mess,
a failure at best—
no rest.

No rest ever
not even within the cushions of my mind.
They whisper my happiest thoughts
only to douse them in day old wine,
lighting the matches,
tearing the seams,
my faded dreams
sprawled all over the hardwood floor.

What if my trauma laughs?
Because I dared to challenge it
within the cages it built,
filling my mouth
with all the words I never had the guts to spill,
onto pages dripping with
but guilt.

When will my trauma leave?
When all is said?
When all is done?
When life is lost?
Just tell me when
and where to run
because I am tired of fighting a war
my anxious mind signed me up for.

{it's been a while}
gd Nov 2017
Where has our love gone?

Possibly under the sea
across the ocean
in another country
under different city lights
in between the cracks
of all the side streets
I've trudged along
without you by my side?

I think I lost its warmth
under the chill of another
winter's night
without your embrace,
or I might have dropped it
twelve feet below
while climbing all the mountains
ahead of me.

Or maybe
it slid off my wrist
while I was caught
by the sunrises
and sunsets
I've never been able to
witness with you.

it's slipped through my fingers
falling victim to familiarity
failing terribly at sincerity
forgetting every piece of validity
leaving both of us with
nothing but pity

Because we are ourselves
more than we are each others
and I have memorized
the ocean floor
and the city lights
and the aimless fights
more than I can remember
what our love looked like.

gd Nov 2017
I have been collecting plane tickets
without even realizing that
they've been collecting dust
in the corners of my room.

But how ironic it is,
presenting itself in plain sight,
watching the matter of time
build up around all these memories

Memories as fleeting
and as temporary
as the pile of dust
clinging to its own past

I just find it so difficult to wrestle
with the beating of my heart
because it creates a song
that leaves me in awe

frozen in place,
forcing me to listen
and wanting me to stay

And foreshadowed nostalgia
always seems to run its fingers
down my spine
at the most inconvenient times

Because I still haven't found home

Or maybe I have -
Maybe the bright lights
and the city traffic
have always been calling my name

And I always find my fists clenched
every time the sun sets for the moon,
stealing the day and
distinguishing the light

I am just so tired of saying goodbye.
I'm tired of sleeping the night
knowing that I'll be
gone in the morning

I'm tired of the car rides
and the plane lines,
and the endless paper tickets
that remind me

I'm somewhere else than where I should be

Always on a path less travelled by -
but little did I know
I'd have to do it alone
on some barren road that always feels cold.

{I'm still adjusting}
gd May 2017
If you can't take the heat
don't start the fire.

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