If I hug you tighter, will I imprint you in my arms?
So I can carry you with me,
past the heavens,
past the rain,
past the pain.

I’ll hold your every ache on my back,
till I turn to cosmic dust.
When I seize to exist,
is the only time you can leave me in the mist.

I know that’s selfish of me,
but you I truly need.
Don’t forget you’re the one who told me my mind plays tricks on me.
You’re the one who told me to go grow on my own.

You said you’d always be there,
and I’m not letting you go,
before I let go.

One day we’ll shine down with the stars together,
and join the sun feeding all your favorite roses,
but till that day the soils are our home,
no matter where the other goes.

Sometimes, there is no fairy tale ending. Honestly most of the time, there is only a melodramatic soap opera rerun with a white noise background gnawing at your eardrums. The same way your laughter now claws at the back of your throat, and your teeth grind against each other when the sun is out. Sometimes, you can't share your happiness with the person that helped you find it. It was like someone hit a switch and now your thoughts run rampant, searching for a reason why you no longer go for a jog in the morning. Why you sleep in past every alarm you were so careful to set the night before. There's an art form you've mastered in talking yourself out of everything you loved to do. There are long nights you take breaks from howling at the moon to ask yourself if something is wrong with you. Sometimes, and I'm so sorry to say but, you just can't be loved. Sometimes you just aren't good enough. You, alone, a lonely sailboat in the middle of the ocean, so pitiful the waves are meticulous in never letting you capsize. An SOS squeezed out of the last living fibers of a shriveling raisin the mirror reflects back. So you call and leave voicemail after voicemail, leaving out how you didn't get better. How you wished the story didn't have to finish so soon. How you wished for a happier ending.

like yellow flowers
on faded dreams
you came to me
gently,
with the soothing voice
of a sweaty spring
thank you, old friend
for being able to be
dark enough to see
the hidden light
in me

i will not go into the times we shared
asphyxia and summer air
juxtaposed to form
an inseparable pair

who am I, old friend
when the ship´s horn blares
if you made me who I am
(if you made me scarce)

like yellow flowers
on faded dreams
you left me
softly, without
any warning of
the lack of color
(there would be)
without your splendor