Maybe one day we will cross paths at an art gallery
and
everything
will
be
ok
again

my hands
only distance a
few centimetres
from yours
so
why does it feel
like i
have to stretch
a thousand miles
just to
clutch your hand in
mine?

You are a goddess
                                             bearing aphorisms,
                     winged words
                descended
                                       from angels
breath
              birthed golden gilded,
                                                                      individual
                Springs ephemeral flowing
                         down verb filled
                              streams of  
                              adjectives,

                       adjuncts to
                 towering majestic
pronouns                             most
                              naked

                in their originality,

                uttered
                      virginal,unstained

          no matter their verse,
            
  immortal,
                             feeling unrestrained.

We
Against the world
Whose truly
The underdog
When the power
Collected
Once connected
Is strong as
Einstein's intellect is
Atomic Explosions
Can knock
Earth of its axis
Tragic
As Allies v.s. Axis
World War Two
As the world wars

Two of us, Just the
Justice, Just us
Just is the only reason
For breathing this season
This isn’t even
Surprising
The way we rise higher
Than the sun in summer
Some are confused
The way we fuse together
Regardless of the weather

Whether autumn falls
In August
Our arduous tasks
Seem to leave
Like leaves
Once we’ve changed hues
Exchange whose
Fallen
As we climb
Scale mountains
And reach a level
It’s peak
Wished it could reach
The climate change
Doesn’t phase
What it doesn’t know
The snow below
Forms as the wind turns
Winter
Looks at us green
With envy
As we exchange hues
Plush meadows
Lay vast across the plain
Simply put
It looks similar
To the vane
Looks as we stare
At each other
To share vanity
And make it fair

The stars
Watch from above
At this pair
That showed the earth
How to love
Regardless of despair

If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, baked and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.

Exhausted
from feeling
   reeling
peeling away my exoskeleton
of mossy vehemence

Disgusted
from festering
pestering bacteria
leeching my energy
depleting my senses

Desensitized
towards romance
no chance
for me
Sinking
in a swamp
instead of grasping
for relief

Ashamed
for allowing
disavowing
natural instincts
Crying
   dying
internally invaded
by poisonous neglect
  Suicide
by choking on
your spoken words
I kept

I do not know who I am and there's really nothing sadder than this,
especially when people are constantly questioning you about who you want to be and you don't know what to say or how to act.

I can hardly keep my thoughts together, I don't know how to put them in order. And I--
I am losing myself everyday as I give everything my utmost devotion,
only to find out that I have not been given any in return. 

At this hour of night, I feel empty and useless.
And it's probably true that this tear-stained sheet of paper I'm embedding my thoughts in will mean more to me than I ever did to anybody.

And it's sad because I could never blame them. 
There isn't a specific character that is outshining the radiance of others to love. 
There aren't anymore dreams, or hopes, or hobbies to hold on to. 

Everything is a lie. My entire being is a lie. 
I am caught at intersection point, 
attempting to busy myself by etching out words on the graveyard.

"Come be my savior."
You are not there, and you will never be.
You, my darling, are a lie as well. 

I am not able to kick, or writhe, or scream,
for I am trying to jot down what I'm thinking.
And sometimes when you don't know what you're thinking or why you're thinking,
you just remain completely frozen, with your breath ****** straight out of your lungs 
by those you love the most. 

I can never rely on anyone. 
Nobody cares about you no matter how much they state they do.
They are all a lie, too. 

I am immortal, and I am utterly dead.
I can hardly feel my fingertips at the touch of this pen 
as I am encompassed by a numbness so cold it burns.
For I am a lie, as well.