Oh to write about death.
The sweet surrender of the lost self.
Like a shadow cast against the light, I am but a nothing in this world of everything.
Should I come to terms with my self-hatred, I would do everything in my power to end my life.
The solemn activist of my own will.
I do not deserve to live.
This is a letter for me, should I still be alive after the 25th of April 2022.
Hold on to your anger.
Hold on to your self-loathing.
**** yourself, again and again, if given the chance.
Serene grace of the wind brushing up against the sways of trees.
The zenith of which the skyscrapers could reach.
You are the North Star of every hopeful love given.
The skies above our shrines throughout the valley of graves, you've found half the promises you've made.
Seeing a cat's tail in the underground, you tried to pull it up, receiving scathes and marks of the beautiful beast.
You are an unknowing mother, secretly caring for the ones you so admirably love.
The shorter the days, the longer the nights you sleep alone.
But I am here.
I will give you the light you so desperately kept reaching.
The Northern Lights of the poem of Sienna.
You are the beams of light above the clouds that the people admire.
You are beautiful, kind, and sight for sore eyes.
With every drop of snow dancing across the December air, we walk ever so slowly into another year.
Here we are, wishing to dance with each other throughout the year.
I will hold every moment we have dear.
Every kiss adorn with every smack you've given.
Every touch grasped around our waists, embracing the beautiful person that is you.
I will always, and forever will be in love with you.
a soft touch of your kind hand
a subtle whisper to the ear
your gaze, peering through my thick skin
i am tired
slowly drifting away
bereft and unable to move
walls shattered with every raindrops
crippling breeze of sadness creeping in
i hear your voice and think
"have i been yearning for this?
or am i just wanting the impossible?"
the crescent moon wept for me
"why are you crying, child?"
"i've been dreaming of the day i die, dear love.
and i only have you as my ley line."
threw my clothes to the river
with my body, still intact
i'd rather drown in water
than to wither away in despair
my mind's killing me
but what's to lose?
i've already been dead years ago
i'm alive but not living
soft purring of melting cats between your ears
the sound of muffled music filling your mind
you find yourself inside a box
afraid and unknowing of the outside
overwhelmed by the thought of breaking free
you hear the clanking of metal gears
like clockworks made forcibly by madness
you suddenly see the pitch black sky, crack
opening for you to see the outside
you softly hear the sweet sounds of music
as you find yourself dancing into the midnight waltz
and think to yourself
"I am one with the lovely ballet."
Inside your mind.
Luna my love, are you there?
has the world been cruel or am i insane?
have you been listening to the weeps and wails of lost souls?
for when morning comes, Aine arrives and i may not be here anymore
will you miss me if that happens?
or will you be the same as always and to not care?
on sunday evenings, i see your reflection on the lakes of the meadows, Luna
how we used to talk restlessly about insignificant little frogs up our throat
given the idea that i may die within the forest
with vines as my noose
as you watch me dangling from the tree i used to swing on
maybe these are all wishful thinking
just know that you are everything
Luna my love
chew your food properly
don't let anything go to waste
as smacks ring across the table
i scold you for chewing too loudly
we bicker and we fight
for something so trivial like leaving
screaming like two tigers
with harsh words filling the dark and empty room
hold onto your words properly
don't let anything go to waste
for i've poured too much of the love you can't promise me
as we let go of our final goodbyes