I’m not going to write poems about him.
I’d rather pretend there weren’t a thousand words collecting
Like a hurricane against my dry autumn heart
And phantom knives that plunge into my chest
Only to leave me still depleted and alive
Enough, to feel the aching that it left me with.
No knife pains as much as the absence of a soul.
My blade traced skin will assure you of this
My silver marked wrists promise me that
Every opened wound will heal eventually.

The sea is dark
A deep dark
Black
And it’s surface white of reflections of what is left of the light.
The sky looks like a Neverland picture in my head
The dark clouds above the ocean line fuse into an orange which blends into the tiniest yellow and then lime before grasping the lightest and most humbling turquoise. Then suddenly, the ocean in the sky, the blue. This blue which stretches and climbs higher than my eyes will take me.
On this dark ocean there are sprinkles of light, sharp and beautiful light.
I wonder how long it would take for me to swim there.
This ocean in front of me now screams wonder. I don’t know where the sea meets at the other end. To my left, the ocean meets my mountain. One I have looked at my whole life, one I  have neglected and then loved again. And then neglected again.
I’m drawn to this ocean on my right. I want to know where it will take me.


..

There are no stars in this sky. The smallest and tiniest claw of a moon is hanging where the lime meets the turquoise in the sky. Two o’clock from him, the one and only star in my gaze. It’s 20.45, Friday the 27th of December 2019; this is what the sky looked like tonight.

I told her I felt empty but I don’t.
Gravity has never felt stronger
Pulling me into the dirt
I can’t be here for much longer

I told her I felt empty but I don’t
This heaviness weighs inside of me like a train
Drawing every inch of my blood as it comes closer
If I really felt empty, I wouldn't feel pain

I told her I felt empty but I don’t
There’s a barrier in my mind that doesn’t allow me to cross
And I dream of the day
my body becomes one with the moss

When I think about it I feel empty
Lying in the forest, becoming one of the trees
I’ll look up through the branches
And view the sky through its leaves

When I think about it I feel empty
But not in a bad way
I feel at peace
Because I don’t want to stay.

When I think about it I start crying
My life is special, and I am happy
I have memories and I have dreams
So dying makes me kind of sappy.

I told her I felt empty but I don’t.
Inside me a thousand emotions are at play
And there are good days, so good
That it makes me want to stay.