my chest a bottomless pit, i wonder if it's worthwhile anymore.
but the grass stains on my dress make me smile shyly, thinking of your sapphire eyes so blue;
so intimidatingly beautiful, i could barely hold your gaze for more than two seconds.
yet i pushed for three and i'm glad i did; i saw the black circle in the middle invade more of your blue space and your cheeks turned a soft pink, head downturned, wavy brown hair falling across your forehead.  
a month old memory which i attempted to dull with substances
while it remains vivid and intact as though it happened just yesterday.
i fear the power you have over me; when my phone sounds my hopes rise like a tide in the storm
and comes crashing down when it's not your name.
i'd like to see you again, may i see your sapphire eyes ?

what is the point of opening the cage if the bird's wings are clipped?
you say she is free but at what cost?
she is flailing her wings about, struggling to take flight.
Begged for the cage door to be open - fought and it happened.
She set herself free.
But wings do not allow her to fly.
She is chained by gravity, denied the privilege to kiss the sky;
whom she pleases.
She's out, she roams.
But flight she cannot take for she is confined in a cold, long hallway.
Up and down in
straight lines is allowed.
But flight with other birds beyond that hallway appears a distant memory, long forgotten, lines blurring,
feathers fading

the feeling of struggling
for months
from inner turmoil
chained to a system
the wrong cogs being turned in my head grinding, sparking, creating embers of declining mental state.
But at last, i’m met with a break and a relief from long lived writer’s block.
while fatigue clings at the skin under my eyes, leaving bruises of sleepless nights and tireless structured writing.
i struggle
but it feels as though the cocoon which kept me captive for so long is sliding away from me
and i’m regaining strength to fight free
perhaps this opportunity to write is not because i’m tired
perhaps it’s allowed me to breathe

i am an apple rotting from the core,
my shiny skin disguising my bruised insides.
the branch at the top of my head is being twisted off;
a, b, c, d.
pick a name.
smog thought of death comes to mind.
take a bite of me;
feel my sweet happiness ooze with every clench of the jaw.
but get to the spoiled bit
and toss me away.
leave me to rot and dry.
i'm here for a good time, not a long time.
and i don't deserve the pity and praise for the artistry at 27.
so i shall leave the party at my 28th hour.

a sip of smooth dried leaves.
head thrown back,
gulp
gulp
gulp.
your heart has been thawed.
empty mug
which you hold,
your cold hands drinking the leftover warmth.
yet empty it is; unable to replenish its ceramic exterior.
i'm getting colder
and you put me away.
i'm waiting patiently for you to feed me again.
with warmth
and mint leaves.
only for you to drink me happy.
i beg for you to use me again.

tire marks left behind on the tracks of thoughts in my head
from racing cars
donuts
roundabout thoughts.
putrid acid of burnt rubber stings the eyes and the throat
raw
from clear, untainted tears.
but smoke from sudden friction
sudden spark
lingers.
ascending into nothingness
the relief of peace.
it is raining outside.
and it trickles into my bloodstream.
coming inside.
the tiny white powdery donuts are gently disintegrating into me
small pelting on the wound on the road
though black tracks remain as evidence of distress
the sting is gone.
so is the heat.
it’s cold now.
and it’s difficult to get rid of the rubber blemish.
and roads are hard to keep clean when reckless drivers exist.

to dream of rope embracing my neck
or compact powder bursting through my veins
to crave for solace and beg for more
my arm is getting sore.
for chest to feel your words and intentions
your smile, your laugh, the soundless contentions
i ache and my face pours with my own rain.
i'm sorry, my love.
our attraction stronger than tide wearing down rocks of steel
your love so real it could truly heal.
i fear my dark overshadows my light
i fear that i'm not worth putting up a fight
four
letter words spill from my mouth as i bite back the lump of pain in my throat.
i cannot fathom this luck i have to call you mine.
you assure me a thousand times
i am the one you love
i am the one
who will walk with you in trailing white and flowery light.
perhaps i will settle for flight
a temporary
easy way out
to paint away my doubt
uneven canvas
of broken promises.
lost in my own thoughts
drowning in an ocean
but
cut.