I say,
"Their words
will not
hurt me."
But at
night I
put my
head on
a wet
pillow.

Mist clouds forming on my skin
I dye my mind in thin formations
soft sentient siblings aviate my fingers
frost lit prisms projecting visions that I relate to
chromatic distillation fancying the minds eye
dark transient beings no longer apply
dispersing and spilling into stretches of time
Aether, Aether, help me climb.

"...There are miracles in the way their eyes linger, wishes in hands that are kept folded to still the trembling.

There is wonder in knowing that, someday, they will never have to let go, ever again.

This is what I fight for, this is what I've waited for, this is what gives me hope for the future.

This is what's meant to be.


...But late at night, when the bed that waits for me is empty, I fold wishes in my hands, and shed tears for what cannot be."

The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearled;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in his Heaven—
All’s right with the world!

I hid the love within my heart,
And lit the laughter in my eyes,
That when we meet he may not know
My love that never dies.

But sometimes when he dreams at night
Of fragrant forests green and dim,
It may be that my love crept out
And brought the dream to him.

And sometimes when his heart is sick
And suddenly grows well again,
It may be that my love was there
To free his life of pain.

Head thumping
Stomach in pain
Chest pressure
Arms weak
Heart on my sleeve
Opened up
Silly idea
Stupid girl
You let your wall down
Slowly let them
Take it down
Brick by Brick
How silly of you
To trust someone
To hold your heart in their hands
To hold a gun to your head
And trust them to not pull the trigger
Silly Girl
Head Thumping
Stomach in Pain
Chest pressure
Arms Weak
Brick wall
Building up again
About to
Explode

Let’s stop
Time for a moment
Why always rush?
Reality is a torment
Listen to the hush
Of complete silence
If you listen closely
There is always a difference
In the way something sounds
The way the air feels
There is so much that
The outside world conceals

Why must we be
Always keen to go
To the next place, why don’t we
Ever take things slow?
Why don’t we
Take time off the frets
Savour the little moments
We’d otherwise forget?  

And have you
Just skimmed through these words?
No time to read aloud
You don’t want to be heard
Isn’t it just
A part of your mind?
A system forbidding you
To slow or rewind

You’ll always skip through
Let the words blur your sight
And you would continue
To read it all quickly
No matter
How detached
Are these
Words
That
I
Write.

If you can love the wrong one
so much,
just imagine how much
you could love the right one.