Dusty night skies
   With a white embrace
      Pollinate my senses
        To relive it over again
      Amongst the stars
    And Numb to the taste  
A routine of desperation
To reach a euphoric state

her hate
towards
my appearance and
character
"You are just
an average.."
found myself on
the love road
full of forks
an understanding  
to be average was
a difficult proposition of
balancing ones life.....
Why she missed??

In every dream I have you are there, awash with silver moonlight...
Your eyes shining like stars in our own personal universe,
Our fingers intertwine like galaxies webbed with love and longing.
Our bodies pull closer to each other with the strength of black holes, whilst our lips meld together like new suns.
We stay like this orbiting each other until morning comes...

I have no expectation for things to last.
Everything has a clock, an expiration date, an erosive half-life.
After taking stock of my current relationships,
I realized I'm hesitant to invest in people
because I don't think people will stick around.

People change.
People leave.

And for people who don't deal with change well
like me
that means
a sort of implosion.
Humans constantly assume different roles.

Mothers become grandmothers,
friends become strangers,
brothers become fathers.

With that, even family will leave you behind--
out of sight out of mind.
And I haven't been thought of in such a long time
I begin to think
no one will ever see me again.
Now I'm just wishing I can be useful in some way, so I can stop feeling like the world is tired of carrying me.

I sit,
watching people pass by as their world changes,
and mine falls apart.

I saw her sunlit silhouette
laced in the whites of the morning.
her cigarette stained mouth escaped
with the memory of her kiss,
of the taste burned on my lips.
I have to remind myself that
she is real,  as absolute as
the air that crushes my chest,
as the words she left on my breath.

I heard your whisper and
it broke, giving way to air.
your shadow’s edges
slowly rot into
the pages’ rips and tears.

I confess to be terrified
of the tears across the lines
of collecting wasted time,
left in a room full of ghosts.

the spine of this book has broke
and the edges you tucked away
now broken off, leaving frayed
illusions, that this was how it
was. how it's always been.

i didn't fall in love
.
.
i dived into it
.
.
without even knowing how to swim
.
.
i drowned with no one to save me
.
.
but i can't scream and ask for help
.
because i didn't fall in love
.
i dived into it