01:52 am
have you ever asked yourself like why you so lonely?*

01:53 am
or empty?

that maybe you give too much of your essence to people and never leave any of you for yourself

01:55 am
i know i do

02:05 am
and like that's maybe why i get so attached to humans

because in them,
i find myself

02:07 am
i need to change, because things shouldn't be this way

02:10 am
but it's hard sometimes you know, when most days you don't leave the house because you feel unworthy of the space you take up

02:16 am
so you'd much rather disintegrate into soil because you've become all too familiar with people stepping over you and admiring the outcome of your beauty but never the roots of your pain

02:19 am
i spend so much effort watering people in order for them to grow and hardly get enough sun shine to feed my own soul

02:25 am*
because i don't know how to do anything else but care for everyone but myself

his darkness became
tainted by my red

i burst like the sunrise
on the canvas of his skin,
raw and hot, red, red, red

i set flame to the somber
blues we'd once painted
our skin deep with.

kissing the echoes of
our past, but always
pulling away too soon.

i was too red, too vibrant.

he didn't like the taste
i left on his tongue
it was bitter like him,
it stung of the past he'd
tried to bury on my lips

my skin would ash
but he'd miss the flames.
my pulse would gallop
and intrude like
summer into his veins.

we were never married
but in those few months,
we lived.
we lived more than a married couple ever could,
ever would,
ever will.

and then one day
he was gone.
and it was as if all of a sudden
the sunsets lost their delight
and the waves their majesty

an abundance of time was given to me
in my empty hands
and i did not know what to do with it

it did not hurt
i did not cry
i became voiceless
quiet as the night sky

widowed at 16,
i lived my life in silence
lost to the cause
of love left abandoned

he still doesn't realize
that beauty has a price

he plucks roses and
wonders why they wither
when he's never learnt
to check their roots.

with thorns between his lips,
he speaks softly about
the way love has eluded
him over the years.

his palms like written verse,
scarred and coarse, petals
falling delicately out of
time from his fingertips.

he sees beauty but he
does not see underneath

he has always been
one to see the flames
but never feel the heat.