Like a sunflower, you pour so much love and light into something only for the forces of nature to wither it away. The odds are always stacked against life.
Sometimes we fall in love with those who simply show a kindness that few can reciprocate. They most likely won't think twice about you yet here we are, left so helplessly in love.
Some days I miss the sun. Nevertheless, I still wake up and see your smile- that's all the warmth I need to start the day. These mornings could not get any better.
Sometimes I get the feeling that my demons love me more than my angels. Maybe the fallen are the ones who know how to lift you up and maybe the empty ones are the ones to make you feel whole.
And now we say goodbye to what we thought would never end. I can't believe it, it's really over and what do we have to show for it? ashes and anguish. All we can do now is rise up like a phoenix and learn from our mistakes.
Her heart was where I found my home. Her thoughts and words open up doors I could never find and her eyes painted the walls in beauty only rivaled by her own. This is the house I wish to spend my days.
I felt like I was in love with a wasteland because it once birthed a bed of flowers. I was in love with memories that had long since passed- my mind became my enemy. Little did I know that those flowers were poisonous little things.
Who are you when the doors close and you're left with your shadow and silence? Who are you when no one is looking- no eyes or judgement on the way you conduct yourself for everyday life? Who are you when there are no likes, no comments and no audience? Who are you really?
Perhaps the red flags only become visible after the end. But what if there was no end? What if you look back on the would-be red flags as simply milestones that show how much your partner has matured and grown?
Yes, it's true, I still think of you- how can I forget the one who consumed my mind, heart and soul for so long? Years can go by, I can move away, I can even be reborn, yet in my mind you still remain.
Once this darkness is over, we won’t remember how we survived. We won’t even be sure whether the darkness is really over. But one thing is certain- When we climb out of the darkness, and into the light, we won't be the same world that once stood.
Dear diary; All of the good days are nothing compared to the emptiness I feel since she took her away- or more like a piece of me away. And now I think I am getting sick from all of the poison she fed me over the past year- that's all she left.
If I had known that was the last time I saw you, what would I have done differently? Would I have memorized your smile for all those rainy days you wouldn't be here? Would I have held you longer hoping that your warmth would stay with me for just a bit more? Would I have kissed you one more time so that I remember heaven when hell comes next?
To this day, I'm still replaying the memories of you and I. You may still be able to steal my thoughts away, each one turning into another piece of poetry.
People could tell how much you lit up my spirit- they could see it in my eyes, they could see it in my smile. But now that you've gone, these eyes ain't what they used to be. Like a switch, I have taught myself to light them up on command. But deep down, this spirit doesn't shine so bright.
Some of us are scattered stars without a solar system in the vast and unforgiving cosmos. We may not be part of a constellation or host a planet and its life we could sustain but we still shine as bright as any other star.
I am just a ghost walking with the wind and it cuts through me like a never-ending blizzard. All I can do now is gather memories of warmer times, of warmer eyes of names that have long since escaped me. When will these winter winds whisk me away? I don't want to feel again.
There are few who really know me at all. Sure, some will know a few facts about me- they'll try to piece me together in a way that makes sense to them. Sometimes I believe the idea of me that they have created or perhaps I don't know myself at all.
Solitude is calling to me again. She calls to me on those dire nights and I always answer her siren song. She knows when I am drained, detached or drowning and will lift me from the depths in my time of need.
I still taste the gin from her lips and this heart isn't slowing down. How can I sleep when her voice still echoes in my ear? But when I do, I hope I dream of her. Tonight was not long enough.