i.

Promises lay broken at our feet- like the bottles of verity that you mix with your orange juice. We're resting in pieces; and these, our shattered dreams, lay like the dejected children of the sun- too far away to glimmer bright enough for our admiration. We were a star, baby, and I ruined it. I tore my calloused digits right into the core of your humanity. My eyes screamed of perjury while yours, open and pure, were infallible. I should not be allowed to cry rivulets of tears as I write this, and one might assume that it is because I am scared of this truth that fate lay heavy on my breast- but, no. At once I believed we were one, and I wish you would not ache from this torture as I do, dare I part my lips.

ii.

When I get on my knees at night, hands folded in prayer, I ask the Lord to shed some of his forever-shining light – the light of the sun, the essence of the universe (or so some say) down upon my weary shoulders. You never once asked why every morning started with a shot of liquor but had you, I would have exhaled the truth like a balloon with a pinprick of a hole punctured into its (my) flimsy skin. Your eyes, the same eyes I have worshiped for years cut into me with a truth that is poisoning in its potency (almost like the bottle of whiskey that has become my best friend). You think you’ve hidden the truth from me behind a veil, whispered lies escaping your lips- but we were once one, I know you better than I know the drum that beats in my chest. I look at you, at us, and think that even a dying star is beautiful.

I hopelessly strive to think the "good thoughts",
But it seems that these "good thoughts",
Never seize to become tainted with painful memories,
Of what we had, or rather, what we didn't.

Living is often like drowning, and sleeping like flying,
So bridges and tall buildings always tempt me.
When I talk about death I feel brave.
I've always hated how recognition can so easily turn into pride.
They say pride comes before the fall,
But I believe that various kinds of self-centeredness are the origin of all unholy descents.
I remind myself that I shouldn't take my life because I didn't give it,
And my heart continues to beat on its own.
Blood doesn't stain crimson red,
It darkens and crusts on the skin.
Everything that is dead becomes only a memory,
Then it disintegrates and washes away, eventually becoming nothing.
I can’t remember anything from before I had the ability to reason,
So when did I come alive?
I wonder if all people valued beauty,
Would there be peace?
Because I sometimes wonder whether Neil Armstrong meant to say what he did as took his first step on the moon.
I think trying is as valuable as doing,
But justification is a dangerous tool.
I am cautious of failure and success;
But count this as my eulogy
A list of things that I am going to say before my untimely death.
*I recognized the world for the canvas it was and I didn't waste my life.
My dreams were my motivation,
And they were fueled by those that underestimated me
I walked streets day and night and prayed that I would somehow run into the girl of my dreams,
and when I finally found my missing rib I looked at her like she was a piece of art that I just couldn't keep my eyes off of.
I suffered and I found its nectar bitter-sweet.
I didn't get the best of life, but then I made the best of life.
I never stopped caring,
my love for the unlovable made me daring.
I trusted too easily so I was always broken.
I always found things to love, but they never loved me,
But despite it, I still loved, hard, even though it hurt me.
I couldn't comfort because I had never been comforted.
After a lifetime of battling myself, I finally took off my crown of thorns.
I didn't let the past get the best of me,
I gave the future all of me.
I hated animosity,
War was despicable to me,
And I always preached peace.
I prayed constantly that my efforts would not be in vain.
I never actually could stop sinning,  but despite my ugly sins, I never stopped straining.
I was not perfect, but I did the best I could.
I never ceased to hear the music.
I still played, even when I felt like I was playing solo, I still played my part in this symphony of life.
My eyes were aimed at the director, and we played through the storm,
We played even when all hell was against us,
We played, and played, and played
Until eternity came through.....

Sure, it'd be nice to walk
Along the shore of the beach
And watch the sun set
With you.

But I'm happy enough to run
In circles around the track
And watch the grass wilt
With you.

Sure, it'd be nice to cuddle
While eating junk food and snacks
And watch a horror movie
With you.

But I'm happy enough to sit
While laughing over your shoulder
And watch funny videos
With you.

Sure, it'd be nice to be
The one whom you call "yours"
And to be loved back
By you.

But I'm happy enough to love
The perfect person you are
And savor the moments I spend
With you.

Loving you was
the most
exquisite form
of self
destruction

but I did it
I did it anyway
I wanted to reach
and touch
the flame
to bite
the fruit
to see
to hurt
and I wanted you to fix it

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--
And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?