A trace of light,
behind the curtain window.
An existence of life
under the willow.
The smell you left
on the yellow pillow.
It maim me deep,
even it's shallow.

They call me naive,
And hollow.
Please call me, Naive-
I am in sorrow.
Right here where you left me,
got nothing to follow.

Still under the willow,
laying beside your pillow.

I fall in love with you every single day.
Every time I wake up, I fall in love.
Even in my dreams, you give me yellow butterflies.
There's something about you that I don't understand.
I can feel the stars in your voice.
It makes a happy man happier.

Now I understand what it feels to be infinite.
Thank you, April

She is December.
A zephyr of melancholy maim you.
Thee who bleed in the name of love—
The vessel of the abyss contains thy blood.

She turned twenty.
A lunula, an agony and bliss.
One should fall into the sea,
One will shine for thee.

She is December.
She decided to be moonless—
She's the end and she'll start all over again.

Braver, stronger— smarter
Hello, December.

Twenty sixteen it is.
Vivid evocation
That's what this is all about.
I remember a girl,
too fool to fall in me.
But it's the first time
I ever felt loved by someone.
You were the best.
But I can't comprehend;
Too young for love;
Too dumb for life.
The day I left you, a hyacinth grew at top of my head.
Now it blooms all over my grave.

When will it be? The day that I would stop breathing, my skin would pale. When would it be? Is it tomorrow? Maybe now while I'm typing this letter. I can't answer it time will always tell when would that be. It can be either death will let you know that you're on a death bed, or you're just gonna end up dead, clueless. While having this kind of thought, probably someone in this world only got a second to live. And here I am wondering, when would time be? It's funny because for the past few days. Five days to exact, I had a good life. I've lived a life where I make jokes to my grandma, still lazy, but ain't depressed. And now I just saw a post that Helen Mccrory died, cancer it is. The killing machine of this world. A night like this makes me want to live. That's why I can't sleep because I'm afraid that I won't be going to wake in the morning. Probably because I always wake up in the afternoon. It is a joke. Please laugh. But seriously, death is inevitable. It is the same fate that everyone shares. Even Klaus Mikaelson can relate. There's this line of Klaus that pops in my head "What if there's nothing after this, no peace, just darkness?" What if that's how it ends? That'll be, I don't know. I don't know. I guess we are all victims of this life that they gave us. So let's live life while we can embrace the pain, enjoy the moment because death is certain, and after it is not.
But always remember that let time tells when would that be. So don't **** yourself. We are perfectly made into this Imperfect world to live an imperfect life. So be it. Don't waste it for just another lonely night.

My fire inside turns blue--
She said it's the warmest,
Yet, I only feel loneliness.
More like dead
Unalive fed with lies--
Bet everything for my favorite vice.
Things didn't go well since we cut off our ties.
Maybe this is how it ends living a life with those beautiful lies.
May we meet again, my little witch.

Life is still wonderful even it's *****