It's time to paint.
You pick up your paintbrush
Painting a deep
Crimson
Red.
The paint mixes with your tears.
Your pain,
Your grief
Until you go
Numb.

You paint in secret.
No one understands.
No one sees.
No one bothers to.

But...
I see.
I can see
Your tainted canvas
Your paint,
Your tears.
I can see
And feel
Your pain
And I'm truly
   Truly
       Sorry.
I hug you,
And kiss the canvas.
And toss the paintbrush
Away.
You don't need this.
You don't want this.
But you want an escape.
An escape from it all.

So you paint.
Or...you used to.

"I'm not pretty"
You say as someone compliments you.
"I'm not pretty"
You say as you step on the scale.
"I'm not pretty"
You say as you try on those new pants.
"I'm not pretty"
You say as you leave to go on that date.
"I'm not pretty..."

...Yes. You are.
My dear, you are wrong.
When was the last time you've really seen yourself
Past that *one pimple
and the stretch marks on your legs?

You seem to have overlooked
That sparkle in your eyes
When you talk about something you love.

Or how graceful your fingers are
as they skim the keys of the piano,
as they run down your arms
clasping your elbows
and your back arches forward when you're embarrassed.

Or your skin,
that could easily rival
the softness of your favorite cashmere sweater
which fits loosely over your torso,
bunching at your elbows
when you do chores with me
after saying I "don't do it right".

Or your feet
that trek across the creeks with me
when we sneak out every Saturday
so you don't have to go to your uncle's house
when your mom leaves to see her friends.

Do you not even see your lips?
Their rosy color,
their fullness?
The pair you bite when you're nervous or frustrated
that are usually a bit chapped
especially in this chilly weather.

My dear,
You are pretty.
You're beautiful.
Stunning.
Immaculate.
Ravishing.
Please don't say otherwise.

You never needed me
As much as I needed you.

You were the reason I breathed,
But I only made you blue.

I thought we had something,
But it was an illusion
At best.

You were my king,
But I was only your test.

Now that you're gone,
I see my mistakes

I'll no longer look on
To a love that was fake.

“Sooner or later, the pure white shall be dyed blood red.”*
Purity.
A word
used to describe things
only from people who do not know the truth
about what they are describing.
For even the purest,
white souls,
are stained
with drops of red.
Even the purest roses
That grow on the valley
Are stained with red
Until they are unrecognizable
from what they once were
or seemed to be.

You won't hear me complaining
That it's raining.

You won't hear me sigh
Because of something canceled
Due to the weather.

Rain is
Rejuvenating,
Relaxing,
and Enlightening.
At least for me.

Rain allows me to
Relax
with a nice cup of tea.
Or,
rain allows me,
to think
about all the things
normally looked over
every day.

Rain also allows me to appreciate
more of what's around me,
it's lulling, pulsing rhythm
beating against the drum
called Earth.

What if
You had to destroy
The one thing
You brought to life?

I've read so many things to try to comprehend the way I'm feeling.
Years of research.
Decades of those prior to me.
This extraterrestrial rush of chemicals flowing from different parts of my brain
It doesn't feel right.
I hate it.
I am concrete.
Earth.
Grounded.
Why must these things keep trying to pull me away from the soil in which I was born from and will return to?
From dust to dust.
Ashes to ashes.
I can't fall down.

Everything is ephemeral.
Me.
These figments of my imagination that claw away at me.
These thoughts that keep whirring,
grinding the gears inside the factories polluting even the most miniscule crevices of my mind.
But this is slowly warping my earth
My dust
My ashes
To mud.
Water.
Air.
The molecules change.
Atoms vibrate sporadically.

Dust to dust.
Ashes to ashes.
Fall down.

When people criticize me,
I'm not sure if they realize
But I've already criticized myself
On the exact same things.

I sat on the floor, my face buried in my hands
Slowly I watched her shadow fade-
Never coming back.
As those words rang in my ears,
Deafening, refining-
Slowly but beautifully killing me.

Never coming back.
I slowly drone her voice piercing me all over
As if a pin kept pricking my body
With enough force to cause an eternal agony-
But not enough to ****,
To put me out of my misery.

My soul, slowly breaking-
Alive, but dead inside.
Her voice, deafening, beautiful-
Never coming back.

I had a dream.
You lay in front of me.
Things were out of our hands.
You were gone.
I couldn't stop it.
You just...
Vanished.
Gone forever.

I wake up,
And claw
The silver space
On the bed where you usually are.
And when I feel nothing but the sheets,
That's when the tears start to fall.

Is it too late to say sorry?
Well, ask yourself that, not me.
Do you think you're worth forgiving?

They say
'Fool me once
Shame on you.
'Fool me twice
Shame on me'

But what about more than that?
Ten
Twenty
Fifty
One hundred times?

And with every time came a "sorry"
"I promise not to do that again".

So before you ask me
And tell me yet another apology

Apologize to yourself first.
For putting yourself into this predicament.

I know what to say
Just not how to say it.

my love,
continue with your unfiltered commentary,
ask your questions that pierce my heart because you know that i'm lying to you
ignore that i'm bleeding
just as i've ignored you as you have already bled to your death.
life no longer flows through your veins
as affection never really flowed through mine.

Sun shines through the cloud
Rays pierce through floating liquid
Ravishing the sight

Your words stab me
Killing me over and over again.
Why do I still give in?
Why do I still love you?

Do you love me?
Sure you do.
I'm lying, aren't I?
No, I'm not.
Of course not.

All those nights alone
don't mean a thing.
All those beer bottles
In the refrigerator
That are gone the next morning
Are worthless.
I have nothing to worry about.


*...I can't lie to myself anymore. It hurts too much.

I long for those days
When we had something to treasure
Outside the sheets.

When we were in love
When "we are in love",
Were we actually?
Are we now?

Because
Even those kisses
And nights full of *******
Feel unrequited.

I ache
For your love
Not your lust,
which is all I've been seeing.

I don't want to
Feel this way,
But I just can't.
And I don't know why,
But I can't stop thinking about you.

Do you do the same for me?
Probably not.

So many decisions
Are hard to make.

From saying "yes",
or "no".

From staying you'll stay,
Or that you have to go.

I wish you said "no",
and that you didn't have to go.
Because,
Now I'll never see you again.

I'm too scared to tell you
My feelings for you.
Because if I did,
You'd laugh.

I can no longer jump over the bar and I'm sorry

Someone, please help me
I can't seem to find
The light
That's supposed to be at the end of this tunnel.
Is it just a lie?
Is it just a delusion?

It seems quite common
For people
To wish
And hope
For things
That are undeniably
Too far away
To grasp.
Even if it's close,
Oh so close,
It's just a tease
A mirage
And it strays away
Yet again.

Your smile is true
But your words are a lie.

You were the one thing I didn't want to lose.
The one thing I must never forget.

But see-
This beast had overcome me
as the dementia overcomes you, too.

Don't mind me as I sit here
Hiding what I really want to say to you
And replacing it with what you want me to say.

Just because you're healthy
doesn't mean you're healthy.

I'm in a constant state of being subtly nervous for no apparent reason.

Hello.

When you think nobody's home
To hear you cry yourself to sleep
You don't hear.

When you think that nobody out there loves you,
While that person you've liked down the street dreams about you
You don't feel.

When you use yourself as a canvas
And become ashamed to show your work,
You don't see.

When you send that last text,
Write that last word
With your shaking hands
Tears
Trailing behind every letter
You don't know.

That I can see you.
That I can feel you.
That I can hear you.

Because I am you.
The real you.
The beautiful reflection
That you've somehow lost
Through years
Of dirtying your mirror.

My body feels like it's constantly about to collapse
But somehow I still have the strength to keep going.

I've accepted it all.
And I'll give in to you.
Only you.
Because,
You've become a part of me.
You complete me.

All the risk,
I'll ignore.
It's all worth it for me.

My head is spinning.
These thoughts,
These sins I've committed.
Matter no more.
Only you.

Always you.

Valentine
Is what I wanted to call you
But didn't.

This argument
gone over
countless times,
victimizing ourselves-
separating ourselves
and creating this
unnecessary drift
that soon turns into
unrequited feelings
as the darkness shadows
the light that once existed
in us.

                            "It's you".
"It's me."

It's us
you
me
we don't exist
we shan't.

But I suppose that doesn't really matter now
does it?

When one looks out a window
What do they see?
Birds,
The Sun,
clouds,
trees?

Well, when I look out the window,
I see
Freedom.
Everything is outside,
unrestricted,
open to
hurt,
love,
despair,
and hope.