poison is what you are,
but i guess, somewhere
in my imperfections, i too,
prefer poison more than the antidote.

you are nothing but the cause of blood on my fresh wounds.
i am nothing but the cause of your fatal demise on paper.

but you didn't just cause bleeding,
but i didn't just cause your demise on paper.

funny how things come to be, my love.

A horror movie scene as the heroine escapes.
Everything is still besides her convalescing breath and the distant, chasing wind.
Not a noise is heard except the fall leave's rattle and the birch wood's moaning bark in the moonlight.
Her body slouches into the protection of a lone shed, and shrouds itself in the aroma of cut grass.
A tense brow relieves and tired eyes close, thankful to receive the momentary peace.

A possible misstep turns the wary peace on end with the jagged cut of broken leaves. The once relieved brow now concedes surprise as wild eyes are cast towards an opaque barricade.
Sly pieces of garden equipment leash a weathered jacket in place as she attempts to stand.
A cackle is heard, a shriek undone.
To spite the brittle wood, the formulaic jump-scare-skeleton-hand bursts through the shed's solicitous walls, set to declare the last of a weary soul as his own.
The wind catches up and spearheads any hole it can find.
It begins whistling around the dim room like a tornado elated to havoc behind a castle's walls.
The tree bark howls, the leaves, now delight.
We learn there is no reprieve for a begging champion.
The camera backs out of the splintered hole, and pans over a silhouetted forest to face the waning moon.
The hero succumbs with muted screams to a gore far below and out of frame.

Our only closure, a black screen, with bright white letters, slowly scrolling up.


The end.

when i gaze into your eyes,
i feel myself drowning a little,
a little more than i should.
            
                          i'm
                               slowly
                                   slipping
                                            away.

when your presence is near,
my heart flutters in your madness,
i feel your effects.

                        like
                              alcohol
                                          in
                                              my
                                                system.

when you speak my name,
i feel my body freeze and my mind,
replaying your sweet melody on
repeat.

                            like
                                    a
                                        broken
                                                record.

when you're not near,
i begin to crave your more than ever.
perhaps it's the after effect.
or the withdrawal of you.

                             i
                               need
                                       you.

but when you whisper it so softly,
the fact that you love someone,
someone else, i can't help it.
i can't help my miserable feelings.

                               i
                                 can
                                       hear
                                              my
                                                   heart
                                                           crack.

We often hide our feelings, away from the light, it’s kept in the dark for what it feels, an eternity.

Maybe just continuing to keep it all inside will help us, simply ignoring the emotions will do the trick.

So we let it become a habit, shoving everything deep down within us, all due to one action we didn’t think much of.

And merely when we think it’s all under control, the bottle begins to tip.

Did we overfill the bottle of emotions, maybe we stored in too much for our hearts to handle?

Then it comes out, a deluge of tears and the never ending pain and hurt, an overflow of emotions usually kept in the dark.

Often, we face the question, ‘why is this happening to me?’

Maybe we want to be okay, but how can you be okay?

What exactly is okay?

So discreetly it is hidden that no one knows we’re in pain, and maybe, maybe it’s for the best.

To act like everything is okay, to not show weakness nor vulnerability.

We bottle it up, repeating every process, all hell breaks loose when the bottle finally tips, all on its own.

It is then, when we are all alone, the tears threatening to fall finally join in on the chaos.

And to keep it away from the others, we try our hardest to provide an illusion of we are okay.

Deep down, there is a bottle of emotions hidden in the darkness, far from the reach of others, forbidden to reveal itself.