You remind me of him and it frustrates, angers, and annoys me.
But most of all it makes me afraid - afraid to the pit of my stomach
I can already feel the sharp edges of that knife you are about to plunge at me
I can already hear myself sobbing in the middle of the night, and during odd sun hours
I can already see myself hushing myself up, to ask the air around me to kindly be more benevolent
Let me breathe
I want to live, I know right now, but then I would only want to die.
And I want to stay brave, right now I can say this, but then... I don't know
I don't like envisioning myself so crippled.

I can't speak
I am too full of fear:
Like bubbles of soap,
It has filled my mouth.

I can't speak
It's running in my veins:
This speedy ******
element I know nothing about.

I now know nothing

I can't speak
  Because if I do
  I'll be doomed to find
  Nonsensical, unconnected words spilling out
  Cursing me
  Cursing everything
  That led me to become this.

          I am an apology
          Of everything that went wrong
          That I can't seem to heal
          About which, I can't seem to talk

I am trying to leave you.
I think I will miss you for a long time.

You are as far as a soldier from his bricked home, his brave, frail mother, his noisy night by the mustached man's shop who was also his friend's best uncle. Best friend's uncle.

You are far but not like finding water in a long desert far. That image alone chokes me. You are far like clean water on a beach far, when your shoes are filled with mud and every step forward is a burden you have no choice but to take.

You are far like help on an empty road far, when night and horror fills in the lungs and only a whisper splutters out.

You are far like hope for a bright student's first big failure, redemption for a sinner, and love for a newborn - one whose mother died delivering.

You are far but not like light in a blind's eye far. You are far like light in my life far.

You are like the moon:
You light up the whole sky.

You are like the moon—
You are gone.

A walk down a memory lane
Enough for me to recall what you were,
What you still are now: a flirt.
A poet singing lies
An artist hiding blood blots behind red brush strokes
A man playing with hearts,
And never finding peace in his sleep.

Here, take these from me
Lilies - always your favorite
Come smell these, hold them!
I have brought flowers for you.

What a pleasant smell, and how fresh!
How bright; these yellow creatures
Take them to your room, decorate it
I have brought flowers for you.

I have brought flowers for you,
And tied them with my own ribbon
Purple, my favorite color. 'tis, my best ribbon!
Sprinkled only with a bit of Arsenic.

people so passionate,
their hearts thrumming against their chests
as new ideas play their flutes
and the visions of their imagined golden outcomes
lift their feet to the skies.
dreams
gleam in their eyes
and words fall from their mouths so easily: the earth is their pillow.
they need not fear the world because the world fears them.
while i,
on the other end,
put my head on my knees and cry by the unknowing river
because the butterfly i had once sheltered in the cave of my stomach
has died of dark and doesn’t flutter.

So what if I miss you
Nothing lasts forever, does it?

Put your hand on your heart and say
I forgive you.

Let your eyes cry but don't let them run dry.

It's okay,* tell yourself that.
It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, sweetheart, it is
Okay.

What you did, what they did, what happened
Is Past now, has passed now.
Please allow yourself to move on and actually live
This one and only life.

You are a flower-being and you deserve fragrances.
You are a soft soul and it's time you let your scars heal...
So stop. Stop scratching your skin, stop scarring your sacredness within.
You are to live, and live happily.

Please.

There are times when there is no hope. No shoulder to cry on and no lips to tell you to hold on. The burden gets heavier and heavier on your shoulder and  the demons which had come out earlier to just play, finally announce they are not going back. Not now, not ever.
The world spins and stars break and white light burns your eyes. But no god comes to your rescue and no friend and no foe, no family. You deal with it alone and the dealing sometimes costs you your life. It is causing me mine.

There comes a time when
Deleting people and numbers and letters and songs
Becomes easy.
As if,
They weren’t entire chapters in your life but were
Mere sentences.

1) footsteps
2) loud bang
3) laughter

"It's all over! I am so glad!"

4) scream
5) sobs
The end.

I don't need no one now I am on my own and this

is my world today and I feel

free.

It comes to everyone
someday or another;
when it becomes important
to shut yourself in
and not let the world outside know.

It comes to everyone
this way or that;
when it doesn't matter whether or not
you have anyone to listen
to your woes or complaints.

You live with your cracked heart,
cherish lovingly your scars,
caress your wounds and bandage your soul
and tell yourself aloud
that you're alone and okay with that.

It comes to everyone
slowly or all of a sudden;
and you bear it until it heals.
But it looks like it has come to me
to never leave.

I'm so obviously obsessed with you--
that's what the pain is about.

Me missing you everyday:
Fruitless.
Me thinking of you, yearning for you everyday:
Fruitless.
Me praying, wishing, asking~
Upon stars, wilted leaves, beads:
Fruitless.
Why is it then that I still can't stop?
Why is it still
That your memory won't fade?
Why would I do this to myself,
And why won't you understand?

The **** with missing people at all the wrong times

Heck, it's always wrong time

A potion
or a pill
which on consuming
may consume me.

I need to forget life
and fall in its flow
dissolve in its flow
to divide in its flow,
disappear in its flow.

I need a pill
to forget life
I need a pill
to forgive life.

Like stones in the pocket of your coat,
or a heavy stack of thick books
in your bag-pack
you are taking it everywhere you go.

The guilt.
The regrets.
The painful chances: what could've been; what should've been.

You are carrying some broken promises in your heart
which were not even said.
Some apologies that are due, some clarifications,
a last talk.
But stop!

Forget it. Move on.
You need to allow yourself life, sweetheart.
Throw away the stones. Burn the books. Inhale.
Exhale.
Life gets better like that.

This could be the last time
I am looking up at the stars
in hope of finding you-
My eyes search for you still
but this is going to be my
One Last Time.

Please let me forget you. Please let this pass. Please let me be. Please, just go. Forever and ever and ever.


Please do not try to compensate for this damage. It's mine to mend. I don't want you near, why don't you get that?

Please help me, I beg you: **Leave.

every feeling
that comes with your thought
breaks me
i don't know what to do
we cry
we sigh
we wait and it's fine
until it's not.

I want to write so much so much so much
but my fingers and my heart
do not allow me
and my mind is so caught up
trapped
like an idiot
in your scent
ew.

Going back
through our chats
a tight knot
a knot
tightening,
I choke
it wells up
inside
I hold
on to dear God
Mercy, mercy
pain
it hits
wave
forms
I drown, I drown
until
a poem comes
to save.

Do I even like you still
or am I just obsessed with the fact that you left me?

It isn't fair
what becomes of us people
when someone leaves.

It just dissolved;
all of it.
Now you can't even find
a remnant
of the girl
who was drowning.

recurring dreams, a pill, a fight,
flight for safety? fright for life.

Sleep, again, tired warrior
for your heart is wearing and your troubles have exhausted you
your staggering soul pleas for a pause, do you hear?
Just a pause, at that, and some moments to rest.

The only sad thing about some goodbyes is that in order to maintain your dignity, you cannot rub their flaws in their face.
You cannot tell them that you hate it. Cannot tell them that they should have been more considerate about everything,
Should've seen someone other than themselves too.

**** all of you who thought they were somebody's god-sent guides
Paving ways, understanding things, and then leaving for good
Because one thing you never understood was how hearts really worked
And trust me, you are never getting any peace you apparently love distributing.

I have tried.
I have tried to live like I really should live, I know what it is that I like.
I have lied.
I have never really tried.
I have only always wished, for trying requires courage that I don't have.
I am not lying.
I have known fear in ways it doesn't remain just a feeling:
I have felt it shooting up my spine
I have held my fingers to stop them from shaking and I have, at times, simply collapsed
Collapsed on the floor because my legs wouldn't want to carry my weight anymore.
So I have wanted, and I have tried, and I have wished for it to get better
But it only ever becomes a tad bit shade of 'fine',
And I can't compromise.
I have tried.

I checked on you regularly to maybe just know that you were there somewhere... it wasn't out of love, or curiosity, or even obsession. I just kinda missed you on occasions but not with the idea to want you back. Because I wouldn't ever want you back, or the agony, or the deep, harrowing experience of every deeply harrowing emotion ever. And still I have only half moved on. Because I see you and it means to me. I never show, you'd never know, but something still matters whether or not I want it to.
I don't want it to.

Stop looking for me everywhere and let me
please
rest in peace.

Anxiety.
It's that snake that gnaws on your feet as they are turning cold
nibbling on your soft skin, bit by bit crawling up, up,
up.
It's the constant pacing to and fro and back and forth and back and f-
forgetting what you had to say
And not having anything to say but more: having a lot to say and no one
Or no words
Or no way.
It's that tightening in your chest, that horrible little knot that makes a not-so-little blockage
of blood
and as your knuckles grow white, your heart knocks madly at the ribcage
so your brain decides it is okay for it to pop the red ***** out
but fate declines and you fall, sob.
You sob, and you ask the heavens
and any existing, non-existing God or Source or Goodness
to turn off the ****** faucet from which your fears have been flowing so freely--those fears you know well yourself are unworldly--
(Or am I saying that because I know that's how anyone else would take them?)
But real or not; unrealistic perhaps; you are powerless at their hands.
Truly, that's what you are.
Powerless.

There are times when you just have to stop caring. You have to. And it's the most toughest, most painfully challenging task. To stop caring when all you want to do is go back and walk around that harmed skin, make a ******* mausoleum of your wounds. For a person like you, a person who already feels too much and cannot do NOTHING about it, it is hard, of course it is hard. All those pseudo, glitter-guaranteed quotes lose their meaning right in front of your eyes -- you extend your arm but no bird sits on it, you cannot in your ******* life reach for a silver lining. It's too FAR.
You don't want to stop caring because you are secretly fond of the warmth of that now-filling-now-healing wound. You don't want to heal but you do. You stop caring.

suffering is dull yellow in color.
it hurts your eyes and ails your heart.

heartache must be black - heavy and all-dissolving

but black is actually really prominent and this hell of a burden is invisible
to everyone but myself so maybe
it's the color of my skin, my blood
sitting on my chest. clawing up and down
drawing invisible letters of your name

my heartache, i think, is the color of your eyes
and a jagged collection of all your beautiful lies.

I'm glad it's not April now
But do people really wait until then to make fool?

I miss you. I can't not.

It's all jumbled up and sticky sorry-
but here is the thing-
I had fallen in feeling-
and now I really miss you.

how much time until it's fine?

I need you more than ever today

You have never been this far

I am so overwhelmed
that I don't know what to say
though surely
a poetry like that
deserves a response.

Maybe I'm afraid
because I know this can't last
long
unless 'the' mountain moves.

It's different for me than it is for you.

I hope
you get
and I get
what is better.
And if it's each other
then may so be.

You are mad.
Simply mad to be so obsessed.

Looks like no website, no magazine got a clue
If ya miss someone so much, what d'ya do?

A quiet question hangs between us,
invisible like heartache,
and just as heavy.

what do you do when you feel down?

what when you can't find a way out?

what do you do when silver's gone,

what do you do when you're in doubt?

what do you do when you feel alone,

what when there's no one about?

what do you do when you feel a void,

what do you do through out?

how do you know it will be okay,

how do you know it won't last?

how can you tell one to feel better,

to not worry for an unseen or past?

how is it that I don't feel safe

even when I've told myself that all

why is it that I still can't say

if I'll be stronger after this fall-?

Hey, here. I know it's eating you. Come to me. Talk about it. Tell me how it happened.
I am not judging you, no. Not today, not ever. Just sit here, please, now you do. And say. That's all I ask from you.
Tell me how you see yourself. Tell me how you see the world. Tell me, how has it changed since last time?
What was the last time? What happened between that point and this, tell me that. Please speak to me. You know you should. It's high time.
So, that time and this is different? It is. What's different?
Please look at me.
Yes, say. What's different? How do you think it has changed you?
Do you remember how you were before?
How this world felt under your feet?
Where is that energy? Is it now your strength?
What makes you feel weak, tell me that. What makes you feel good, share with me.
Does anything surprise you anymore? Does it stop hurting? Does it even hurt at all? Can you feel? Do you wish you could stop feeling? Do you ever want to turn off the faucet from which life flows?
How did we reach here? Tell me, please.