Memories. yours, mine.
Sweet, sour & bitter one.
Often collide. inside.
Too many to carry.

Some are most beautiful.
Some are little less.
Important and unimportant.
Few reside at heart. few in mind.

Dear, I often think. to bestow
My memories. to waves.
They go and come back. always.
They'll also bring back memories.

Each time I need to feel them.
Each time you need to feel them.
Or each time when our fragrance.
will be fading out of us.

You can wait at any shore. anytime.
or with me. you're always welcome.
In case, your memories are flying away.
See, I still care about you. I always do.

I live in a vacuum.
I exist in a fundamentally
misunderstood airspace
inhabited only by a
lonely soul
who is
shouting and stammering
senseless pleas,
thinking,
"Who can this awful,
lonesome creature be?"
Never realizing,
"Oh,
it's me."

I used to say I’d be nothing like him
A mama’s girl, fierce and fearless
But there is fear.
I am afraid of what I feel
Of the anger that swells
Of my inability to stop the tide
Of the time my mother and I fought
And she whispered
you’re just like your father
I am afraid of evolution.
A slow process
That can change a harmless thing
Into something else entirely
I don’t want to be that something
But in my head a voice tells me
You can’t deny your roots
And by roots I mean a grave
That dug itself into the earth when I was born
And waits for me still
When will I become your sickness
An emotional  minefield where no one walks
A sadness that makes my feet drag
I refuse to become the person I fear
Because although evolution cannot be stopped
I am the mutation.
And I will not become the man who brought me here.

I fell in love with you one night in September
When crickets sang an ode to Autumn
When Gaea’s palettes matured to tones of herself
to the leaves, falling like tired angels

I remember the dying painter spitting his last few colors onto the sky,
Warm scarlets that professed themselves to be deep ceruleans and violets
When we watched, spaced, from the yellowed creaking picket fence
Wind chimes sighing in the subtle breeze.

You were the artist, a divine manifestation,
Wisps of hair breaking through your perfected face
An ocean of complexion in your eyes, hiding secrets
Reap the grains of my affection, throw it in the pitch

But I was colorless, achromatic
A beige canvas
You played me with your hues and tones and tints and
splatters of pigment

Sometimes, I’m painted vibrant oranges and yellows and reds and
pondering in sunflower fields, gentle raindrops resting on our shoulders,
crackling bonfires, leaping flames.
Pleasant comfort.

colors fade.

Vibrancy grows faint under grey.
Winter frost slithered to your heart, turned jet-black
Boreas’ wind swept you away.
Tobacco-scented Icarus, you’re bound to fall.

Ah, snowy white procession of death, take me!
Bare skeletons of trees shiver in the morning chill
A heaviness carries the shattered ice of your eyes
Unforgiving, piercing, daggers to my soul.

You fell in love with him one night in December, and I wait.
Minutes liquify, oozing to hours, seeping through cracks of my sanity.

When I wake up and think of us
I feel a surge in my heart, a rush
The impending guilt rides through my body
as I remember how you said I was the greatest thing
The one that you were going to love for always
Until I messed up and begged for you on my knees
I begged for you to still keep me,
I begged for you to not talk so soft,
I begged that I would never have to write things like this again, and we can see how well that paid off
I am through begging and I am through waiting.
All that I have left is to hope that someday you wake up and miss me
Instead of writing me off so easily.