i cannot explain this bitter feeling of feeling like you are being forgotten, like you don't exist for a moment to the person that you name stars after and all I know is that it eats you from the inside out starting with emptiness filling the stomach, a dull pain in the heart and making its way to the mind, filling it with cyanide.
it makes its way to the eyes and rivers spill (if they haven't poured out already) and it keeps you from feeling the least bit cheerful enough to do anything.
all you know it that you loathe yourself for not being intriguing enough for them to at least spend treasured seconds of such relatively short life to send a good night message when more than just dear seconds of your relatively short life turn into minutes; minutes turn into hours to ponder and puzzle, to overthink and look for keys that are not there.
i cant explain this poisonous feeling of not feeling enough for a person that sparks metaphors and poetry that will not be read by a single soul, not even reread yourself.
and this is where you crave another body, another soul, some peculiar and truly fascinating pair of eyes.
you sink yourself lower and lower than you accustom to until rivers turn into oceans and you hit the Mariana Trench.
your insides have tightened, your eyes have iced and you cannot feel a thing.
you just want to have the honor of reaching every corner and junction of that person's brain all twenty-four hours of the day like they linger in yours.
you want to have your eyes compared to at least shining stars like you compare theirs to galaxies, to dedicate at least precious seconds of their such a lightning life to you, just like you dedicate beloved hours to them.

To care for others more than yourself in a world full of egocentric individuals is not living.

You were my flashlight, but I am no longer afraid of the dark.

It's been so long, hundreds of hours that I've last seen those dark, brown eyes.
My mind's picture of them has lately, simply just blurred,
but the world has sharpen up.
I can finally tell the difference between the people hurrying down the streets of the city,
and suddenly, the world doesn't seem so black and white.
I can finally, perfectly see other eye colors
apart from that only shade of dark, brown.
And I woke up from my at-last-dreamless slumber,
realization hit me hard exactly seventeen minutes after-
my thoughts had abandoned you.

My eyes were an ocean of emotions I battled against everything to hide them,
and I tried to tame the Pacific into the Dead Sea.
You asked me what was wrong,
you had absolutely no idea,
if you only looked.
My eyes had screamed I love you too many times,
but you never took the second to look at me in the eyes.

I hate feeling upset after you joke about having lots of girls,
I detest having to be too self-conscious to have that bother me late at night.
I hate to see other girls look at you, wanting to be yours, and even though you shrug them off and spin your head at them,
I despise to think what if one day you'll follow their game, what if they captivate you?
What if you see something much more special and get bored of me?
What if someday, another set of eyes captivate you more than mine?
I hate it when you get mad at me for being this self-conscious, for doubting you,
I loathe that it's my fault because you don't do anything wrong to bring me lack of faith and get me paranoid,
I abhor having to bother you this way.

Today he lost me and nothing hurts more that seeing him hurt.
And that may be a stupid thought, considering I have probably cried more because of him in two years than he has in a life time.
It may just be my selfless self, because my heart looks like a battlefield after war.
Sixteen days into December I decided to be truly strong.
My friends would say I was strong for taking so much when I was actually too weak to end suffering.
Because my love for him was bigger than all the problems combined, but it was killing me inside.
And I'll probably never end this poem sweetly or lightly because you can only say it bluntly,
because it can't be sugar-coated,
because using other words is useless.
Today he lost me.

Heart of a thousand galaxies,
newborn and dying stars,
a variety of planets,
bandaged faults,
sunrises and sunsets,
occasional shooting stars,
blooming flowers,
the song of a bird,
the smell of rain,
dark, unexplored depths of the ocean.

Eyes of explosions of blues,
crashing, wavering seas,
fierce hurricanes,
and a mirror reflecting
my heart and rarely,
my brain.