You're the only one
who can make me
the happiest
and
the saddest.

She & he & she spoke mellifluously.
Over prolonged seconds of wasted moments,
he planted a daisy in his youthful garden
as each day progressed which marked
a patient reminder of his love for her.
On one dollorous scarified day,
she screamed whispers and banter
and everything gory at the pinnacle of her lungs,
which admonished and ripped every daisy
by the root from his secret garden of adoration.
Of her.
All that was left was nothingness.

She & he & she spoke mellifluously.
She proclaimed her love for him over strained vocal chords.
And the one neglected daisy that was left in the wreckage and toil remained alive.
That's what his love was.
A singular heartbeat that still beat for her,
A ventricle of his heart where
he kept the locket which tell the stories
of their memories together & her.
Alive.

I'd rather be  in the company of ghosts
than be among people
who make me feel alone.

I
All lovers past
fade into footnotes
in the book of your life.
II
You are the central character,
the setting,
the plot,
the conflict
and
the resolution.
So
Don't ever let
a mere footnote
take over the "your story."
III**
It's your **** story,
and you deserve
a happy ending.
(unclogged of your past.)

Our dead hearts inhale the meekness of the weather.
Our dead hearts whimper at the sound of sirens wailing.
Our dead hearts ardently listen to
the gushing of blood through yours/my/our veins.
Our dead hearts rhythmically resonate at
the exuberance of our peripheral hyperventilating lungs.
Our dead hearts,
Our eyes smoulder,
The Sun. The Moon.
As we gaze into each other’s souls.
Our dead hearts are alive for each other.

Part I - She and Her and The Shadow of She/Her.

Her soul, blanketed with strings of bittersweet memories of love,
picks daisies and puts it into the pouch on her left sleeve.
The daisies wilt.
At the scent of her self pity.
She is in touch with the moon and connects every constellation with the tip of her index finger and feels she doesn’t belong to the place where she is right now.
She feels unenlightened yet aesthetic.

She has an inconspicuous connection with anything and everything that isn’t
loved/understood by everyone.
Or maybe she feels they all have
one thing in common.
They’re all,
Unlovable.

Part II - (Illusion of/False) Hope

The feeling is curable.
Maybe someone needs to reveal from the horizon during the
green flash before the
be dazzling sunset
someone who ‘just’ needs to make her feel special, not even ubiquitously. Someone who would reach out their hand when she’s drowning in negativity.
Maybe she’s better off alone.

All she’s ever done is live vicariously/bottled up her feelings and self loath her precious self.
People stomping on her broken heart held together with double stitches and incisions, walking all over her, using her, breaking her trust, treated like she has no feelings whatsoever.
People replacing her.
Her dreams thrown out the window, shattering the glass and her dreams. The shards stained with the blood of her unfulfilled dreams is a constant reminder that no one is going to support her.

People leaving her, with deep seated scars and etching memories in the depths of her heart. These people are not mere strangers crossing paths on the boardwalk, they are the people who mean/meant the whole universe to her.
There is no shoulder for her to cry/lean on and rest her weary head.
No arms to encompass her feeble frame.
No hand which will fill the gap in between, her fingers.
Desperate calls rattling back as desperate echoes.
She has everything and nothing.
She has everyone and no one.
She’s alone. She’s used to it.

But every once in a while,
she wishes
she had someone who would
make her feel loved and
she’s worth it.
special.

Our imprints washed by sea,
You’re no longer my reason to breathe,
We were nothing/ but extraordinary.

The yellow taciturn
highlights of your room
The glistening of your crystal eyes
Snow globe domicile
Star studded decorum
Infinity unfaded in
the ribbon of our embrace
Recurring dreams of
our hypothetical life together.
And dreams apart.
Seperate our bodies but
not our souls nor our hearts.

I have been bitten by
the ruthless rabid dog
of unrequited love.
It bore it’s teeth into my flesh.
It left my heart bleeding,
with a scar to remember by.

Today.
Today is one of those days i self introspect a lot more than usual.
Today is one of those days when every nook and corner of every unpleasant memory is revisitied.
Today is one of those days when my anxiety is on magic mushrooms, it causes me to question my life and if anyone ever likes me at all.
Today is one of those days if there was a hypothetical situation where I had to fight for my life to survive, I’d rather just give up.
Today is one of those days in the depths of my day dreams, I feel like stabbing myself in the heart over and over again, until I drown in a pool of blood.
Not literally though.

I’m a psuedonym to towering inferno,
Meshes and cardboard henchmen surround me,
the only person I would let in through the gaping hole in my chest is you.
I’ll keep you warm.
I’m sorry for all the times
my flames go wayward and
tremble/burn your soul.

I’ll keep you warm.
Within the depths of my heart.

I told you from the beginning that you will leave me. I told you it would reach the point where you won’t be able to handle my brokeness and eventually you’ll let go.
But you said this time, it’ll be different, that you’ll stay no matter what and I would be the one who leaves you.
In the end, just like I predicted from the very beginning, you let go/you left.
A part of me thought you’d just be there/you’d stay.

Everybody leaves.

Even though I’m used to
the self support and the solitariness and just being there
for my fond ones,
Every once in awhile I just wish there was
someone
who would hold tight my hand during the
frequently screaming tempest.
When I’ve reached my
breaking point/conjuncture
and convulse into tears.
Someone who would
encompass me momentarily,
whisper sweet serenades saying,
“Everything is going to be alright, I’ll sing you a lullaby.”

I
Heaven is the sparkling sound of your voice,
when my thoughts are overwhelming my soul,
the past is gnawing at my bones.

II
Heaven is slow dancing with you
with your feet arched on top of my soles
to the ambient theme
of your favourite jazz song
on a cold twilight night.

III
Heaven is your warm embrace
when I’m breaking inside
bones rattling, soul quivering
when I’m breaking inside.

IV
*Heaven is a place on Earth with you.

I feel nothing but empty,
On bended knees I plead" Flood me,
Everything you drained from being.“

She said that one day the ghost of her
will smoulder a bridge with all the buds
of the cigarettes she smoked,
from her phantom heart to his;
until then she belonged ardently to (her) life.

Part I - Detest
Another promise to never leave.
Yet it’s broken again. Just like I predicted. And she said this time it’s going to be different. That’s what they all say.
Even though she’s still here, she’s not here.
She left.
Part II - Intense Emotion/Gratefulness
I miss her and I regret losing her. Cause she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever known on the inside and out and I consider myself lucky to have had her in my life.
I’ve loved her, I love her and I’ll always love her. No matter who you’re with, where you go, what you do. You’ll always be special to me and have the most profound place in my heart. Always.
I miss you.
You.

True love is walking in opposite directions to the same destination.

She/He notices you,
because you no longer obsess about her/him.