Just maybe the stars used this navy blanket as their catharsis;
did you think that your uncaring hands on my face
my arms
my torso
was the same?
Because the stars had a
choice
and the night sky was more soundproof than these walls-
though you didn't seem too concerned;
lashing words out like slaps
or was it the other way around?
(connecting the dots
with unscarred patches of skin left is easier said than done;
you made me hate the colour violet anyways.)
Fast forward to a few light years
where the same swings I'd enjoyed during my childhood
repurposed itself
as the rope I'd temporarily worn like a necklace;
(they weren't supposed to be that tight anyways
and silly me hadn't kicked the chair away far enough.)
Dazed eyes and mind all muddled up taking in my new surroundings-
unmarred white with my hands secured to the small bed;
hadn't I been so disoriented
I might've noticed that familiar shadow hurriedly slip from my room
just as the monitor
beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbe-
and
then
nothing.
The night I died
the stars shone on;
I'd like to believe their way of release
was easier than mine.
// there has to be more than this //

I'd never have to understand that we were born into equal sized roadways-
another unwritten rule suspended in the air
amongst the somewhat unnecessary details we'd 'forgotten'
to mention over the past few years.
But that was okay right?
I mean you'd found your direction
and accelerated ahead of me;
thinking you'd see the world differently from there?
Sure, your perspective involved hues that I was blind to but
I'd found this gem within the shadows of all these cars
(Shh! Don't let them know you're catching up!
This highway was ruled by colours,
not words.)
redyellowgreenredyellowgreen
You just couldn't stay within your own lane-
oblivion muddled with reality
blurred my blindspot
so I advise you to swerve out of my way
unless you want to get hit
(accidentally on purpose.)
-
You'd always remark that I could handle the wheel,
ever so sweetly,
but this
is what you implied?
-
I knew it was all too much,
trying to balance everything
(Shh! My plate was too full,
each nutriment colliding with another-
the chocolate syrup painted ice cream
enveloped half my dish,
intruding the space against her wish.)
You always seemed to have the cleanest looking plate,
however you continuously allowed me to spill over
onto the rim of your
pristine porcelain, as if
you enjoyed
watching me overflow,
explode.
You never did anything about it,
never cleaned the dishes,
simply watching as various delicacies drew fantasies
right
in
front
of you.
Though those weren't even
close
to my fantasies.
You dream of candy floss nests and gumdrop buttons
whereas I dream of freshly cut watermelons and berries
(please do the dishes
or leave.)

// riding shotgun was the sweetest thing
you said we'd done
right before I floored the brake
and more than sugar
went flying out the window. //

I notice the way
lovers linger at each other
for two seconds longer
and how
you mumble along to that tune
escaping from your right earbud.
The gallery cafe holds
artists in a room full of art
and I feel as if I'm
interrupting something
special
here.
I'd frozen that expression
portrayed by his features-
glowing when she'd
waltzed in;
tucked it into my bursting pocket as another stolen moment
and I think
love
is a funny thing.
Untouched
yet experienced
and I wonder why he
had eyes for her
and how long they'd last
or how he'd chosen
that particular song;
lyrics involuntarily memorized
for what other reason than fondness;
or how after knowing someone for longer than your memory can recall
that the creases in their index finger
is as familiar as the back of your hand;
so can all these emotions
overflowing with
serotonin and
caffeine,
dopamine and
adrenaline
be classified as love?
I think it can.

// Is this a milestone or ongoing progress? //

numbers don't define you they scream
stitching price tags on my limbs like what I have to offer is paper based?
so tell me really,
how much does a soul cost?
telling me not to worry;
do what you do best
but what if cold sweating
is the only thing I'm good at-
escaping whatever fire you passed down from centuries ago
only to
do it
all again.

// the elephant in the room isn't me //

Always calling me sweet
as if my name somehow tastes pleasant
when you attempt to form sentences powdered with more
saccharine
than me?
Listen up honey,
you're well aware of the outcome of this prolonged sugar
so swallow your
treacle words
(unless toothaches are your thing.)

// if anything, i'm
bittersweet //