Pens clash with keypads
and papers duel with screens,
Time fights for its life
and the past re-surges to haunt me
While I cower behind fear
hiding from
the *future.

I'm an open book,
dusty, from waiting
for you to read me.

each hour that I see you here, my heart starts to forget. all the times I could've held out my hand and when that something held me back. something, so minute: like a grain of sand or a sliver of light, that'd pull me into a chasm of remembrance, my hole of thought — my inner turmoil.

I'd remember how you'd embrace me with your hug of deceit and end it with your kisses of retreat. I'd remember how you'd shape the curves and ridges of my heart's making then poke it as if I was your little play toy. how you could toss and turn me just like my insomniac behaviour and get away like a thief in the shadow of the night. I'd remember your love for hate and how you thought I was your game, a taste of pyrrhic victory: your temporary satisfaction.

but as I see you walk through those doors, I remember my one regret:
that I learned to love your soul when you only chained me back.

It's been raining a lot lately.
I still think about you
more than I probably should.

I guess some things don't change.
I guess some things do.