I was thinking about reaching out to the stars, when I suddenly felt this cold grip on me… and all in a rush, it brought me back down to reality. I remember listening to the beating of my own heart, feeling the rushing river of blood flowing through my body; I thought it was a miracle that I lived… even when there were those around me who were begging to die. I looked around and thought that everybody was okay; we were all getting along fine and there were still golden airy days, there was shimmering summer rain and silver moonlit dances… but as I got older, I looked around again and saw that behind all the smiles, the facades, the cheer and good times…  nobody was okay. And I thought that I was okay, but when I looked at myself carefully for the first time I saw my heart was very faint, and my happiness was collapsing and my soul was about to wither away. I thought that I could save myself and everyone else if I calmly took off my mask, and showed them who I really was. But just when I was opening my eyes and reaching out for the stars,  I felt this cold grip on me, and it suddenly brought me back down to reality… where everything was just an illusion that everybody was happy living in. Because I realized all along that I had just been using others as an excuse to reveal the truth, to smile in the pouring rain and let it wash away my sorrows… to let go and soar free. But it turns out that it had been just me all along, and everybody else is fine… just the way they are.

Then again, I am just a home
a blank space you spare
for the emptiness you couldn't be bear
a charger for your tired soul
when the world turned into a big foul

after you done resting,
you will shut out my front door
leaving me empty and lonely
not a single fun you ever bring for me

but you're just a silly boy
who has no idea
what a home truly means
until you lost it

You put your trust in me,
crack open caged ribs and slip
flawless hands into flawed breath.

I close the weeping wounds and
smile up, with innocent face false.

Shush, you give me such a gift
I could never drown and admit
this was not what I asked for.

You place ruptured trust in me
but never wonder of space carved,
a waiting cavern, empty, unadorned.

I stroke the hair at the nape of your neck,
your head sleeps steady on my shoulder.

I lay awake and remember -
recall, recollect, render pieces
of another

whose trust riddled woodworm
promises, once undermining the
structural integrity of my mind.

Still, my hand moves, a sure constant, trapped
between pulling you close and
pushing you away.