my hand was shaped
scraped and damaged
just so it would be ready
to fit perfectly with yours

the bends and curves
the scabs and calluses
they all mould together
to the most perfectly imperfect
shape i've ever seen

I thought I knew,
But I was wrong,
I didn't know,
Not really.

I grasped at the concept,
That you and I,
Created a whole.

Sometimes it was overflowing,
Other times I felt alone,
And less than half of a half.

I still don't know,
I probably never will.

All I do know,
Is that I don't have you.

*s.m.

why is it
that when i see you
with someone else
it doesn't hurt as much
as i know it should

but when i'm near you
i act like that
really clingy glue
the one that always
leaves your hand raw
from trying to scrub it off?

i don't want to be
the squid that sticks to you
but i want you to want me
as cliche as that is

i want your perfection
which is impossible
to want me
but we all know that
the perfect people
never love the imperfect
they find other perfect
beautiful
smart and nice people
to love
because their love is better
because their love is more
because their love will last forever

what cliche *******
you don't know
that i have no feelings
so these palpatations
these incessant thump thomps
of my heart?
are all new territory for me

apparently its all a map of unexplored sadness
and the compass points north to you

you're like a map
full of longitudinals that tell me
where to go when i need a somewhere
to lie down after a long day
full of latitudinals that allow me
to hug you and dig
into the comfort of your chest
right above where your heart beats
a steady thump-thump-thump
can't you hear it?
i hope you can't
because my heart
cannot function normally around you.

your heart is the 0,0 of the map
and your eyes are the compass
telling me where to go,
showing me how you feel
and all the little cracks within your self
the map outlines the constellations of your face
and the small islands of all your interests,
the mountains of every muscle on you,
outlined plane by solid plane.

You are a whole,
detailed and delicate
map.

I am the tectonic plates
underneath the earth
that is you.
i shift,
destroy
quake.

i am just
one fault line
after another.

one day
i will creak and crash
in the process,
i will destroy you.

*– s.m.

i'm jealous
of the eyes
that get to wake up
next to you

they get to see
your peaceful face
connect the freckles
on your cheeks
like constellations

lightly brushing
their finger
creating a new sky
on your face

they get to inhale
your sweet scent
and feel right at home

they get to hear
your rough gravely
morning voice
whisper 'hi'

all i have
are the memories
and the empty side
on my bed
where you should be

all i do
is lie here
and wait for you
hoping
that one morning
that will be me again

*s.m

you once asked me why?
why did fate bring us together?
was it luck?
or was it us being useless in coming together ourselves?

fate is something i've never believed in much
it seemed like a fake construct that society had created
in order to convince people that everything happens for a reason,
just a way for us pretend that horrible things have a purpose.

but when i met you, i began to think that things like this happen
and they make me think its possible,
fate might possibly be real.

fate didn't make me love you,
but it made me realize that i could love you
that getting hurt was worth the pain.

you then asked me
why would fate bring us together,
only to throw us apart again?
and that is a hard question to answer...
fate has its reasons.

it all happens because those experiences
they change who we are
and who we will be.
i'd rather be broken now because we aren't together
than not have any of the memories i have now.

i'd rather remember the first time you whispered "i love you"
so softly in my ear while i smiled
and felt your heart beat horribly out of control.
i felt the ba-dum speed up under the palm of my hand
and i can't help but feel like this was meant to be.

but nothing lasts forever
like this, it won't last forever
its here for now but it won't be here tomorrow.

i don't even need you to be here tomorrow
i will always have that first "i love you",
i will always have the freckles on your face
imprinted in my mind,
i will always have that smile
and that shine in your eyes
frozen forever in my dreams.

i'll always have you even if i won't actually have you
i don't need you physically there
but i do want you there.

fate is kind
but fate is also cruel.

should i thank it?
should i hate it?
for now i think i'll just enjoy today...

it's all cracked just a bit
the fractures are splitting open
at first slowly
but now they're coming apart
as fast as an earthquake
gushing out from my walled up heart
into the open.

it's all burst and here i am
waiting for the waterfall to end,
for the day when only
the smell of the rain will remain.

- petrichor

one day i took a red string and started tying it up around my room. when it was done, i stared at it and realised it was my life, a jumbled mess with intricate twists and turns and lines that tangle and overlap. i know it's my fate and life, things i don't have full control over but that's just the way it is. if i cut it, if i try to change it to be someone i'm not, it'll fall apart.

regret
i know the word all too well
after all i've done to you.

i know it within the concaves and crevices of my heart
with every stream of pulsing blood,
the regret goes round and round my body
consuming me.

it reaches every nerve,
exploding like fireworks and an all raging flame,
whenever you're near.

just to remind me of the pain i have caused

i wish i could gather the courage
not even to explain
but to say sorry
for being the horrible, selfish and cowardly person i am
because i know explanations would just sound like excuses.

*–– s.m.

they say that repetition allows something to lose meaning. i can see how this might be true with some things. after a while, sunsets become meaningless, homework becomes tedious, life is just a chore after chore after chore after chore, it's simply a bore.
but i cannot see how the constant sound of your soft snores and how tracing the galaxies on your back could ever tire me. how could seeing the star-bright shining of your eyes paired with your sweet smile ever stop making me feel as if breathing the fresh air is a gift, that feeling anything so deeply is nothing but a miracle?
i can see how moonlit nights and crashing waves are a thing of beauty that nature chose to put -like you- into this tricky thing called life.
life...
is a funny thing. it will fill you with sadness, heartbreak, hope, love and euphoria. it will hand out war and famine and death and it will stop your breath to the point where you never thought the smell of smoke would be sweet, it will make your bones ache from holding the weight of the world up.
never stop thinking that each sunset is a reminder of the coming day where you can experience everything again and again and again. until you realise that repeating is just repetition if you don't allow each soft snore to go by without a content sigh at the sight of pure peace that lies before you. if you allow each sunset to fall by in a blur of reds and purples and pinks without noticing the feeling of bewilderment that washes over you at the sight of nature's colour palette and art show every night.
i'll tell my little one that nature painted every star in the sky to watch over them so they'll never fear the nighttime and revel at each nights new canvas. their eyes will shine to see what each night has stroked across the sky for them and they'll sadden when they hear of the tale about the moon and how it gave half its breath to the sun so it could shine but because of that they could never meet again, always missing each other by just a whisper of time. i'll hold their hand and tell them no matter what life gives out that they never ever forget that
"your shadow is there to tell you that you're real and days will pass in repetitions of rising suns and falling moons, of clouds and constellations. it's just a matter of how you allow those sunsets to sail by, of how you let that war and famine cry for help. life, every day, is a repetition. it's just a matter of how you let your life repeat.

your soul is scattered
while mine contained
you bare your heart out
and love everyone with all that you can
while i am friendly and kind
but too afraid to love the people i care about
fearful that they'll hurt me.

i need to be more like you
more brave and fearless
i need to take the chances
i need to appreciate the sun on my face
not hide in the shade
accept the heat and the pain.

it's time to live my life and let it hurt me
i surrender.

i'm ready to scatter my soul.

i sometimes stay up all night wondering
'will i ever be good enough for someone?'
i don't know if i ever will
because the scars on my legs
and the holes in my heart
make it hard for me
to ever believe i'll ever find someone.

i've built a wall of insecurity and fear
that is so high and insurmountable
that i don't think i even know
who's behind that wall anymore.

i'm so scared that someone
won't understand that while
i've never suffered any true trauma
my scars are in my brain
down a well so deep i don't know
if i'll ever be able to drag them out to heal.

is it so much to ask for someone
who understands that your fear is
so deep down that you're not sure
if you'll ever be brave again?
that you cannot handle failure
and that you're not sure if anything you do or say
as a result of your fear is going to drive them away or not
and you cannot handle failing someone again.

so for now, until that wall has broken down
the teddy bear that knows your secrets
that has held you while you've cried
that's been there for you always
will have to be enough of a hug while you sleep.

maybe the next time i wake up
there'll be a brick missing from the wall
maybe the light of a brighter future
will pour in and push me
one day at a time
one brick at a time
the wall will come down.

and maybe one day
it'll serve as a memory
of just how far i've come
and i'll feel the light on my face
warming me up to the endless possibilities.

maybe inside the light i'll find you
whoever you are
hopefully you're out there.

*––s.m.

i question if i know what love really is
this is because i doubt that i've felt it yet.
i know i love my family and my friends
but that is a different kind of love.
that is a love that keeps you safe
and will always be there.
it is familiar and wraps you
like a hug after a long journey.


but love?
i've always imagined it to be scary.
i imagine love to fill you up
til you think you'll explode.
i imagine it to make you question
everything you've ever thought before.
but i also imagine it to make you feel like nothing can break you
and that if something does break you,
you have someone there to hold you
that will never leave.
but it's not like your family,
this love is like one that will always require work
and will always demand honesty and attention and care.
i don't think love is like in books
with butterflies and roses
and kisses in the rain to sustain you.

i can't imagine love to be anything but faith,
believing that against all odds
you're meant to be together.
knowing that through all the screaming
and fighting and arguing
over little mistakes and misunderstandings
that you know the other person
better than they know themselves.

it's growing with someone,
changing and adapting
and still wanting to be there tomorrow.
it's insurance that someone will be there
to keep you on your toes every **** day,
making you question everything you think
and pushing you to be who you want to
while respecting who you are.
and that isn't an easy task
as we're all complicated human beings
with intricacies and roots that delve and twist
deeper than anyone can comprehend.

so i don't know if i'll ever know what love is
but that's what i imagine it to be
and i have to say
i'm terrified of it.

*––s.m.

if only i could touch
those sweet supple lips
just once more.

if only i could hear
that calm soothing voice
rush through my ears

if only i could look
into the galaxy
of your eyes
just to escape for a while

if only i could smile
just once again
because you said something
so silly yet again.

but none of it
will ever again occur

you're gone
into a galaxy
that i cannot reach so easily.

*s.m.

when i was little,
people used to talk about,
how my hands,
were exactly like yours.

every curve,
every swirl,
even the shape.

my hands were yours,
but mine.

now,
mine are swollen,
from punching the wall.

and yours are cold,
white and frail.

mine are red with life,
and yours are white with death.

*s.m