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Phobial Nov 2013
Well, it’s that time of year again.
Your dreams become longer
and the air seems to slice through your lungs like razor blades.
Sounds like a painful sensation when you think about it
but when you actually feel it,
your ravenous heart craves more.
You witness your newly visible breath
begin to form paintings in the air around you
that you swear a canvas could never be worth enough to display.
You walk across the grass and hear faint crunching sounds
as the soles of your shoes are flattening the small crystals
blanketing the backyard.
Those leaves over there?
They were green yesterday
Now all you see are shades of red, orange, and gold
conquering the green until it has all disappeared.
It’s all so breathtaking.
...Literally…
A few days pass and you see the first leaf fall.
The color has faded, its the color of death.
You see another begin to freefall.
Another. And another.
What is happening to the beauty that was present only hours ago?
It’s dying.
These leaves aren’t breathing anymore!
How’s that for breathtaking?
Isn’t it ironic how as everything is slowly becoming beautiful
it’s slowly dying as well?
Phobial Oct 2013
Us.
I want to know if your eyes mimic the color of my favorite sweater
and if your embrace feels just as warm.
Maybe it's the kind of embrace
where you squeeze just a tad bit tighter
right before you let go.
The kind of embrace that coaxes the oxygen from my lungs for a few seconds.
I don't mind not breathing, if it means I get to stay in your arms just a few moments longer.
I want to know if the spaces between your fingers
are meant for mine to fill them
as if they are they are the last two puzzle pieces completing your greatest masterpiece,
us.
Phobial Oct 2013
What if our paths never cross?
What would we do then?
I don't know exactly who or where you are,
or if you're even looking for me.
But what I do know is that I really, really
hope you're trying.
Phobial Oct 2013
You don't know it
no one does
but I still think about you.
I don't know if the amount of time
I spend thinking about you
is even healthy or not.
But ****, if it isn't,
bring on the disease.
Because even if we both know it's not right,
I'd take on anything
Just to have the opportunity
to catch your gaze
when you pass by every morning.
Phobial Oct 2013
Why do people
expect so much more
of you than
what you can actually deliver?
What if I say
I'm just done
trying to please you?
What happens then?
Phobial Oct 2013
The air was crisp
my favorite kind
and with every breath I took
there was a new invigorating shiver
brought into my body.
It's been another sleepless night
but my soul is used to it
and the bags under my eyes
don't phase me anymore.
The creamy taste
and my hoodie tinted with the
scent of cigarette smoke
is the one thing
making my insomnia rather enjoyable
unlike the one thing keeping me up..
the thought of you.
Phobial Oct 2013
The sky transformed in a matter of seconds
From a bright powder blue
To a sickly gray that reminded me of my darkest days.

The teardrops from the sky came trickling down
bit by bit
Slowly picking up speed
As I could hear the pitter patter on the window sills.

I walked over to my window to watch the show.
To watch the raindrops maneuver its way
past the nooks and crannies of the trees
and soak up into the ground.

I noticed something odd.
Right outside my window, lied a spider web.
A huge one, about two feet in diameter
And in the center, sat a beautiful maroon colored spider,  curled into a ball to protect itself from the penetrating water droplets.

The web had to be one of the most
beautiful creations I'd ever seen.
How could something so minuscule
Create such a wonderful piece of art all on its own?

But as I was looking at this web
I was watching something devastating.
All of the spider's hard work
Was being battered by the rain.

The web was shaking violently back and forth.
Surprisingly, it was remaining mostly intact.
Unlike the fragile spider,
Clinging onto the strings of its creation for dear life.

The rain continued beating down
As I stood there admiring the web's strength.
The web was withstanding everything the storm threw it's way.
But its soul, the creator, didn't seem strong enough to.

The storm faded away.
The web, a little beaten down,
managed to stay strong enough to survive.
The spider, however, did not.

This reminds me of myself, you know.
Beaten down with words, mockeries
Beaten down by my past
My memories

I keep my outer shell perfectly intact
So that no one knows what is really going on inside me.
When in reality, my soul is dying.
My depths are shallowing, just like the spider.

I am not the only one like this.
I was oblivious to this fact
Until I watched this spider
Take his last breath before drowning.

Why couldn't the spider be as strong as its outer shell?
Why can't I be as strong
as I make myself out to be?
Maybe I'll find out one day.
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