You walk into my mind
You take over
Its beautiful for a moment
And then you leave
And then its torture

lately, it's hard for me to breathe. i don't know why, maybe it's just a flu or maybe i'm starting to miss you, again. i hope the second possibility is not true, because my body can't handle it anymore. last time this happened, i nearly lost my mind. and i hope that i will not lose the remaining pieces of myself. i'm not ready to suffer again. i need some air.

it was 3 a.m. and i'm gazing into the open sky
into the darkness that lies ahead.

it was black , obviously (or was it grey?)
it was black but it wasn't evil or anywhere near it.

i was happy
because it was only me and the open sky
the fresh night air
and the stars, never to forget the lovely moon.

the scene changed

i was drowning in the open sea
nobody knew i was out here
i took this risk alone
and i know i might die of hypothermia here.

it was 3 a.m. and there's this
roller-coaster of emotions i felt
this vigorous scenes changing
and constantly fading.

9.00 a.m.
it took me 6 hours later
to realize that the stars i was staring at
actually they were your eyes.

and the ocean i'm drowning in
was your cold, stiff embrace.

noun | pen·e·tra·tion |\pe-nə-ˈtrā-shən\
1) the act of going through or into something: the act of penetrating something
2) an ability to understand things clearly and fully*

if you penetrate their body
without entering their mind
you aren't really all the way in

meeting you was drowning without water, i didn’t know i was already dead

my body was stronger before my tongue tasted your name
and kissing you was like cliff diving to meet cement

your fingerprints left bruises without a warranty, i can no longer find my skin
somewhere between lost and found, your hands are ghosts around my throat
i choke on my own steps

you stain the bathroom tile like i’ve had too much to drink
loving you was like eating a cereal box of sea glass, and still searching for the prize at the bottom
my fingertips bleed broken promises

sometimes i sleep on the couch to avoid the absence of your shadow in my sheets
my sheets still ask about you
so do my parents

i rehearse words you’ll never hear
my insecurities crawl out of your one-word responses and tell me i’m not worth more

for your love of multiples, i could have been anyone
your hands carry the baggage of “ew she’s my best friend”
i’ve lost count of all the ‘shes’

you were not searching for my heartbeat when your hands groped my chest
i’ve had trouble finding my pulse lately

i need a receipt for our memories but they’re stuck to me like a shirt i can’t get over my shoulders
i can’t get over your smile –

the way the corners curled like bare willow branches dancing in the wind to our song
it was running your parseltongue through my veins, and i’d run out the high for days
i think i’m still running, but my feet are stuck in the same **** city we met

your face is plastered post-it notes on all the places we had our firsts as if i need reminders you used to look in my eyes and mean it

i visit museums to remind myself beautiful things have history too

no one ever tells you that goodbye tastes like empty air, tastes like looking in the mirror and not being able to swallow yourself

i bear the scars of your touch, poetry scratched into my skin like tattoos

i remember the first time you hit me
your palm crashed my cheek like a chance seismic stamp and i liked it

you told me, “run while you can i’m dangerous,”
but i stuck around to be buried in the dirt of the grave you dug me with “hello”

sometimes i’m convinced we only hug so you can check my hands for a shovel

100m;
Flowing down the street like a 2.30am moonlit beam
on still waters, I mistook her for the sky.
The way the dress caressed her body
like the clouds that hold the moon

50m;
a falling meteor
a dawning sun in the red radiance of her lips
as its rose blush rushing across her cheeks

1m;
Everything.
A supernova girl engulfing its solar system - its light to be seen a thousand years later in another galaxy before continuing on past, universe to universe, till the end of time or the edge of existence (whichever comes first)

The edge of existence;
A cool breeze
A burn on my retina
The sky was gone

And if I could go back
I'd never tear my lips off your neck
Never unlock my fingers from your hair
Keep my nails etched into your back
And my eyes locked
Straight on yours.
If I could go back
I'd take your earlobe in my mouth
And whisper
Until the words were burned into your dreams
Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go
Don't let me go.

Can anyone ever forget
that voice that made you smile
ever prayed for one last chance
but you're up all night in denial

Or did you ever regret
the day that you lost sight
when words were not enough
to make everything alright

When the cut is still deep
but your heart is still beating
can we really move on
when we know we're still bleeding

Can you listen to that love song
without your throat getting sore
when the bittersweet melody
makes you cry even more

Will we ever be the same
when our heart turns to stone
can we ever return,
To the love that felt like home.

It must be a strong force unseen
That drives a heart to someone's poetry,

For it's not easy to spare the time,
Out of the chaotic humdrum of one's life,

To push the clutter and monotone aside
And welcome alien ideas into one's mind,

Ideas not shaped into melodious tunes,
Ideas not shaded with colours and hues,

Ideas not in a photographic frame enclosed,
Ideas not structured into the flow of prose,

Free-gushing, mischievous, some rhyming some not!
Poetic ideas are a difficult lot,

Which is why I wonder, astonished, each time
Someone sits down to explore a creation of mine,

What power was greater than all worldly realities,
That led them to my humble poetry?

Was it a soul parched of light?
Was it a heart in the throes of an endless night?

Was it the thrill of love, was it the urgency of desire?
Was it pure craving for emotion, the warmth of fire?

No greater an honour could there be,
Than having someone step into your dream,

Allowing themselves to take the expedition,
Into the unknown depths of your composition,

And have your poem satiate their being,
Just as its birth had healed your own entity.