if you would not flinch
when crisis approaches then
train like it is here

the most frustrating thing
when it comes to a writer
is when everything
every word, every letter,
isn't enough to give justice to
the captivating picture of you
in the afternoon:

soaked in sweat,
grinning foolishly,
striking up a conversation
about coffee,
and how unhealthy it is
for me to drink
three cups straight,
to stay awake,

yet the bittersweet taste
stains my lips.

it spills down my throat,
covers my lungs,
and drowns them
with the addicting aroma
of coffee beans
and lazy dreams,
until i cannot seem
to breathe,

and the only thing
i can ever do
is to spill ink
for you.

So I found her sitting there,
She notices my moves...
Now I can't breath.
Paralyzed by her test.

Asking simple questions to pass
Only to pass the time.
Oh God, why can't this
This moment last forever.

So I was just walking along,
Around the corner I found her,
All sad and alone...
Oh will you listen to me?

Now I am beside her,
I don't know how to help,
Help her through her pain,
Help her through her pain...

Among the tiniest grain,
Deep ranges of space,
I will wait there.
I'll be waiting there up there somewhere.

Nicotine

When I'm with you,
I'm overcome with temptation
to release onto you
all my lamentations,
but I don't want to be
an extra weight on your mind,
I know how hard it is
to lift yourself up sometimes.

Because sometimes you
are the heaviest thing in the world,
and the world doesn't
understand that,
blaming triggers,
applying bandaids to wounds
that'll bleed long after the
bandaid's ripped off.

We're both hemophiliacs
drowning in breathtaking chemicals,
in our bones, fragility seeping,
our skin continuously bleeding.
But you and I
are more than this,
more than a shortage of bliss.
We're the passion felt
through a tender kiss,
We're addictive,
like the magnetic pull
of your lips.

I hope you know
sometimes I have to
force the monster out of me
to escape life's bitter bite,
but she loves you just the same,
and I hope you know that
in her, you summone the light.
And when she's with you,
she's overcome with temptation
to release onto you
all her lamentations,
and everytime,
you feel so safe,
she almost does,
she almost does.

*Thankyou for reading! Please comment your thoughts on this one and your favourite part/line and why it's your favourite. ^.^ Your comments make my days.

There used to be a person that I knew.

I didn't know them well, mind you, but I knew them.

I could reconstruct the way they walked,
I could find someone with a similar accent, to describe how they talked,
I could tell you what they looked like,

But you don't need me to do that.

You knew them. *Well.

I, don't cry.
It's not my way, for one, and for two - I don't really have the right, at least, not in front of you.
I choose utter silence and avoidance - I speak only to avoid suspicion.
And if I shiver uncontrollably despite not being cold - it is winter.

You, do.
I do not see you cry, it is left unspoken that you do not want me to comfort you - I avoid you instead,
Your red eyes and absence from places you usually go tells me the truth.

Two days past, we make eye contact.
And then we drop our eyes, look down,
but make our way to each other regardless.

We do not talk, and our expressions betray nothing beyond smiles
- I was feeling something else, I assume you were too -
And then we walk together to our next destination.

The next day I actually say 'Hello,'
And there's this momentary surprised look on your face, before you say, 'Hey,' back.

I knew them,
You knew them better.

*I wish they hadn't died.
I wish I'd known them a bit better.
But I don't regret knowing them while they were alive.

Turtle is too slow
But it kept its own pace and
Found eternal peace

The burning poem it's words burn like flame
I hold it my heart but it burns all the same
I tried ridding myself of the fire
But the flames spoke to me of my muse
Aspiring me to choose
To love and lose the game
Loves painful consequence
My hidden shame
In desperate longing the poem was a light
Showing me a door and a key
Life is nothing with responsibility
In darkness of fragility
I hear a voice beckoning me
To hide my muse's secret
and yet it flows through me like the fiery flames
I try to retain the pain and burning
My heart is alight with yearning
So with the key I lock the secret poem in a room
It stills burns shining with the truth
Yet I feel I have hidden a fragment of my soul
That still burns to this day out of control.