I’ll always remember the warm breaths of sunlight,
Dripping like honey over
Your mother’s dying plants in glass bottles on the windowsill
Of the kitchen where you wrapped your arms around my waist
My hand holding a silicone spatula, navigating
An egg on a pan. Sizzling, each hiss a whisper into
The room, telling us to hold on tighter to this moment.

I really don’t like eggs, I reasoned with you

You tell me these are perfect, that you
Make them just right. i wonder if you remember
Teaching me to cook them just over medium
The whites are cooked and the centre’s still soft
How do you flip an egg quick enough that it
Won't slip, but slow enough that the yolk won’t break.

How do you end a soul tie quick enough that
One of us won’t die, but slow enough that it won’t haunt me

It haunts me.

And i still make my eggs the same way,
no sunlight
Freckling our skin because i stand here alone
I still feel the phantoms of your hands on me, the scraping
Screeching noise of a metal spatula
The ghost of your cologne on my collar.
But I get it just right too. I can do it without you, and it’s better
I tell myself
But i know it’s not the same.

I wonder one day
When i meet someone who gets me just right
Who is better for me than you were
Will I make his eggs over medium? Or will my eyes dart
And fingers twitch
Searching for the best way to
Run away quick enough that
I won’t watch him cry, but slow enough that
He won’t haunt me

The same way you do.

We started with a blank, cracked wall
Hands shaking, we began to thaw
With every stroke, a world took form,
A story began, vibrant and warm.

I filled in the cracks, with thin veins of gold
Figured it'd last, and covered ugly with bold.
Excited to start, I sank into thought,
But you quietly noticed I had missed some spots.

The first layer was bright, unrestrained,
Colors of joy we couldn’t contain
We painted sunsets, golden and vast
Believing that forever would last.

You taught me to blend the shades of the sky,
I showed you the beauty in the colors of night.
Together, we built a world so grand,
Each stroke a testament to what we’d planned.

But soon, the brushes began to fray
People stared, and called us by names
We argued over colors, shapes, and space,
Yet somehow kept painting, pace by pace.

The mural grew heavy with pain and mistakes
We painted thunderstorms, chaos, and rain.
Still, tears watered flowers into bloom,
A stubborn hope shining through the gloom.

The onlookers left, but the rain eroded
Behind the clouds, faded veins of gold corroded
The thunder faded, and I blindly rejoiced
Unknowingly, I had cemented your choice

One day I looked up, to find in dismay
Your brushes abandoned, your colors turned gray.
I stood by the wall, lost and unsure,
Facing a masterpiece that felt like a blur.

With trembling hands, I picked up the brush,
In the deafening silence, my own sobs turned to hush.
I painted alone, though your colors remained,
Ghostly imprints of joy and pain.

A lighthouse painted, its beacon dim,
Two figures either side, watching it spin.
Fields of poppies, you had once made vibrant and lush,
Accidentally smeared under my hesitant brush.

My paint dryed up, eyes beckoned by sleep
A lifetime sprawled in colors and feats.
I stand before it, heart in my throat,
People walk by, unaware of what's wrote.

There’s the golden sun, where we began,
And the rain-soaked earth where our troubles ran.
The images we painted together sing,
While my final strokes frame them clumsily.

And yet, I marvel at what we’ve made,
The laughter, the love, the dreams that stayed.
It’s cracked, raw, and painfully true,
A testament to both me and you.

I step back now, my brushes laid down,
The mural is finished—its truths resound.
Alone, I face this mural we’ve drawn,
And wonder what it means to move on.

Her lips tastes like cigarette
Too toxic yet so addictive

when the echoes of harmony leave the heart’s chambers,
when the ears ring between extremities of silence,
when the hallows shudder into a lull,
when the birds sing out of tune,

we shall muse together again -
my sweet bitterness.

something inside of me
something really sweet
something inside of me
that must help those in need

something inside of me
but that something isn't sweet
something inside of me
curses those in need

somewhere inside of me
is something that I lack
cause something inside of me
sees the world in black

something outside of me
something I must reach
something outside of me
something they should teach

but that something outside of me
is not here yet
cause everything outside of me
is just an empty set

You once told me
That we're bound to
Be star-crossed lovers
Ill-fated by the Norns
Doomed to fail from
The very start

And so we remain
Perfectly unfinished
A bittersweet loose end
Beautifully haunting the
Back of my mind to
The end of my days

in a very large labyrinth
a lone walker wanders
once was a figure danced, bathed in light
now an echo fading into night

each step forward, under the moon
carries a whisper of a tune
a melody once sweets, bitter now it seems
for love shared by one, alive was at least in dreams

the hearts solace, memories fray
yet there’s relief in the unravelling
from the grasp of a love that never did spread.

In this gentle release, both sorrow and grace,
For a heart that loved alone, finds its own space.
No longer tethered by what could have been,
Embracing the stillness, of love unseen.

I ask for no love to linger, nor fade into blue,
But for memories to visit, as old friends often do.

unburdened now, but i miss the weight’s hold.
that gentle hold.

What will a bittersweet reality do?
when love and faith are tainted,
when doubt always cuts through.
A sleepwalk through the day,
and the deluded closes their eyes anew.

What can a bittersweet reality do?
to a mind convicted to its own room.
Seeing the side I've chosen,
becoming what used to make me fume.

And so the storm comes looming in fast,
but not the one from clouds.
The dreams of mine were always big,
but my nightmares are just as vast.

And so the wind welcomes destruction,
and the rain melts my shackles.
A friend is standing before me,
the cause of my reconstruction.

Whenever she opens her eyes, she writes poetry,
And with every breath, she pens dreams effortlessly.

Whenever she talks, the universe leans in to hear,
Whenever she thinks, she paints skies crystal clear.

Whenever she's near, my soul finds its beat,
Yet somehow, we're strangers, destined never to meet.