She's a wicked flower that blooms in Elysian fields
Like a crack in a glass that makes you think twice whether to drink the wine or not
She can smell like ten packs of cigarettes but yet still look so innocent
And because of that, all her imperfections makes her beautiful
She sells death in tiny packages
Whenever she hands out a light for your cancer stick
Or make eyes with you across the hallway
and in a blink you can just fall in love with her
In a peculiar way, in a somewhat hopeless way,
In a way that makes you dauntless, but also makes you so vulnerable
And all of that put together,  amounts it to be unconditional.
Because love only dies in the hands of those who had given up to see how much longer it can live.

Walked pass through the garden gate


Traipsing on the evergreens


I stumbled upon by fate


A wicked flower that resembles your skin

My weary eyes widened when


Your silver tongue slits my pale neck


Thus, I sank my fangs below your ear to


suffice my blood drunk.


As the edge of your dagger trod back and forth on my skinny wrist.


Dead as the night.


Where the moon sheds her aging skin as I peel my own.


We were occupied with such ardor


like a peculiar kind of intimacy.


~


I turned away after that,


Left you with the aftermath


I faced the light to cast a shadow


where you chose to dwell and


might as well make perforations on my back.


She said she loves me


but all I ever felt was antipathy


~


If I can just sew my lips to my inner most thoughts to


obviate myself from forming a lie


But, I can’t.


You said ‘sing to me sweet’, so I sugarcoated every

word that came out from my fraudulent mouth


I was just in it for the thrill.


~


The stars I put up in your sky were fake


Life is nothing but a masquerade and


you didn't fell for a prince charming.


Because the rainbow I showed you was just the smoke from my

Sobranie.

I heard the flutter of a thousand feathers above me,


black birds convened at tomorrow’s end


I saw a ****** of crows encircling the sky


rushing downward into a vortex


Clattering straight for my skull


aiming for divvy morsels that fell off my body.


There’s not much left of me,


their blunt bills perforated most of my skin


Unveiling the skeleton inside this closet,
Unraveling the secrets this mouth can’t


In hoping to shut my heavy eyes to rest


and dig me a bed six feet under


so I can tumble to eternal slumber.


The tears running down my eyes diluted


the colors of my blood stained hands


as I wipe them away


Raindrops, tears,  and blood


doesn’t differ much from each other


For they’re all just liquid substances that symbolizes pain.


I sight these black birds


sitting by the branches of a dead oak tree,


their claws clenched against the aged wood


Bathing in the ashes that fell like snow.


But I’m just lying perfectly still,


my back flat on solid ground


Facing the bleak sun


remaining numb and frozen


This is how I picture death


like sketching a mausoleum.

Your skin was veneered in glitter and glass

That will surely shatter soon

And scatter and spangle across the evergreens

So you can’t lead me down to your garden path

Strip yourself from all your artifice

What are you?

I can see your misleading eyes

Across the dance floor

When this masquerade ball is over

Who will you be?

A fine damsel in distress

Maybe another skeleton in my closet

Or a succubus in my empty bed;

And no longer the monster underneath.

I took the risk and

Kissed your vinaceous lips

And so I got drunk

We entwined like vines on a trellis

The way we intersected unintentionally

But not impossibly

We’re like dangling strings of a violin

The way our melody remained unsung

Until now.