patience is a virtue,
and I have never been virtuous,
years known unsullied,
the purities were taken without my consent,
and ripped and stained and covered in blood,
pocketed away, only to remain,
a constant blinding trigger,
a shadowing figure,
towering over me at every chance,
killing me with every second glance

I let the devil take hold of me awhile,
in an embrace so consuming,
I found comfort in its strangulation

I wanted it to swallow me whole,
and send me to the deepest depths of hell,
as I felt that hell is where I would most belong

so I made a deal with the devil,
and I let him take me,
then I saw and felt what hell was,
and I did not have to travel from Earth to find it,
as hell was here for me already

it was here at home, in my own darkness,
without love, without company,
a place merely of solitude

I let the devil take hold of me awhile,
then decided that I could not let this be my truth,
and made the devil let me go

october yearns for me in halls of sadness,
in the amber glow of burning candlelight,
as it readies me for hibernation until april,
winter always makes me want to hide away

yet this year, I want to intertwine our solitude, and wrap it up like a present we eventually share,
so that I can gift myself,
the warm embrace of someone whom was once a stranger, at any possible time of need

though, december is closing in on me,
and with it comes isolation,
I suppose that it is time to be alone again,
for the new beginnings of january

the bees are back,
but bees do not appear in the winter,
so what is this animal that I can hear,
flying around in my head,
all the wildlings have gone into hibernation,
I wish I could do the same,
however, time does not stop for me,
oh but sometimes how I wish that it would

I cleaned out my wardrobe today, now I’m depressed, thinking of the sentimental value of clothes, and how I used to be so colourful and vibrant, I think I lost all of the parts of me that were bright, is this a reflection of growing up?

I cleaned out my wardrobe today,
and almost cried at what could have been,
and threw away the pin-striped suit that I wore at your funeral and the pastel pink t shirts from my first relationship that slowly became red in the wash, fading overtime, as we did too,
is living just fading away with time?

I cleaned out my wardrobe today,
and was reminded of things I would rather forget, like when you said that I look best in green and I told you that if I were to marry someone, I would want an emerald ring but now as winter comes, I only feel sadness at the trees whose leaves don’t fall, as like you, they cannot change, is change the lesson I seek in life?

I cleaned out my wardrobe today,
and fell into distant memories of the pair of us,
and how I have slowly lost you to addiction,
reunited with you three years on,
after doing something terrible in return,
as revenge for you loving substances more than you could ever love me, and we forgave each other but once again, we do not speak anymore,
and I often wonder if life will bring us back to one another again?

I cleaned out my wardrobe today,
and found gifts of friends and lovers long gone,
and it brought me to tears and gave me a headache, too many moments materialised in inanimate objects that I want to remember but long to forget, and they are holding me back, so this time I must let go,
but the question is, can I?

if I am honest with myself,
I feel incredibly lonely,
and it is all my fault,
I have a tendency to push others away,
because I feel as if,
I do not deserve love,
I do not deserve to be wanted

if I am honest with myself,
I hate the person I have become,
I hate everything I am,
I hate everything that I have done,
I hate the past, the present, the future…
and that is a feeling,
I would not wish on anyone

if I am honest with myself,
I look in the mirror and see hatred,
I wish I was born somebody else,
I want a new body, a new personality,
I would like to step into a different person,
to mould myself anew

if I am honest with myself,
I know there are people who will hate,
the person that I have become,
but it does not matter that they do,
when the person who hates me most is myself,
it is a horrendous emotion,
to feel as though you should be kept out of sight, you should instead stay hidden,
resting on a shelf, collecting dust

and if I am honest with myself,
I do not know where it went wrong,
maybe I have been like this forever,
maybe I was just born incorrectly,
backwards, upside down,
every way but the right way,
it is no wonder that if I feel this way,
that so many times, too many times,
I have thought of myself as better off dead,
as if I am honest with myself,
it is not often as though I even feel I have ever been alive

it is not often I have epiphanies,
especially as beautifully rare as this one,
I have a tendency for overthinking,
the words are confined, tight,
yet still they manage to spill onto the page,
and out of my mouth,
I am not sure if this was out of envy for you,
for something I have never found,
and something you seem to find so easily,
or pity for myself,
for never having found it,
if I have one talent,
it is to be able to have such lacking,
when it comes to an emotional connection with other people,
we both know I have never been very good at that, though I am inclined to apologise,
for saying those three words,
without knowing if I meant them,
in some respects I do,
but not romantically,
I used to think it was that,
then you reminded me of what it really was,
it is the fact I do not know why it is so easy for you, so easy for others,
but so hard for me,
to find companionship, another,
a soulmate of some kind,
and that is why I am angry,
but also why I am sorry,
I now know that I was never really in love with you