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Sirius 3d
I lay in my room
It's 11, the time when I normally go to bed
Staring at the ceiling and thinking of them
of our late night conversations
bonding through those deep things that we somehow share
trusting each other more than almost anyone else
I think of them with fondness and compassion
With love and adoration
I wish that I could tell them just exactly how I feel how much they mean but I feel as if I did they would leave
or be uncomfortable
and I look at them and think that no they'd never leave never
But I still don't want to take that chance
So I smile on as they tell me about him
About how they feel and I am happy they've found someone who they feel about
Someone who gives them the same feelings that they give me
Someone who maybe, just maybe, cares and feels the same way about them
and I smile and feel so happy that they can have that feeling
Even if it means I must sit in silence
He makes me so happy, but I wish I could love him in a different way
I've had a crush on him now going on 5 or 6 years
lately, it seems when you call you speak you mind,
motion to hang up before i can even consider mine.
do i exist simply as a gateway for you to speak?

my lover leaves me lonely,
my best friend soon to be alone on a plane
back home to me; tape him up in bubblewrap
beg him never to leave

so much time is spent in this room
isolated enough to warrant yellow paper
still, the textured white walls seem sentimental
they do not feel as big as the bed

it is so lonely without you, darling
but even when you are here,
it remains so empty
i reach for you in the night.

try as i may, even when you linger
you are so far, my darling,
too far to reach; too far to hold.

and i find you only see me once i turn away.
is it my eyes that alarm you, so full of emotion?
or do you want me just close enough for warmth,
but not close enough to listen to?

the broken furniture holds your motion,
still are the shadows that hold your shape,
and i cling to the pillow that isn't quite your length
but it will let me hold it; it will let me love

i picture you in the shower,
borrowing shampoo, speaking of coconut cream
and my dreams are only tinted memories
are you leaving me in the chill of the air conditioning?

perhaps i'll never know until you finally close the door;
the season has only just begun, my darling
there are so many half hours still to yearn for you;
i'll be quiet and laugh at your commentary until the credits roll

i'll quietly await the sudden goodbye.
distance is a feeling; not a measurement.
there may
   or may not
exist
certain colours
that the human eye
is unable
to see
an insipid
   blueish-yellow
an unpalatable
   greenish-red
each said
to be impossible
for our eyes
to process;
if seen
it could appear
in all manner
of forms
but would remain
indescribable

they say that
butterflies can see
the ultraviolet spectrum
and that
the honey bee
sees in infrared;
and so
it would not
be too absurd
for a person
to dismiss
the "impossible"
to believe
in the possibility
of the as-yet
unseen

although
scientifically
the only way
to perceive
these "forbidden" hues
is through trickery
and constraint
by forcing the brain
into seeing both
antagonistic colours
simultaneously
and
without reprieve
until the border
between
the opposing shades
finally dissolves

there may be
a truth
but it is hidden
somewhere between
the plausible
   yet impalpable
and the proven
   yet proselytised
I remember when I was a child.
My parents would tell me tales.
Of men dealing with demons.
In the crossroads right out of town.

And I remember quietly.
I had walked down that path too.
Not for money, talent, or fame.
I wanted to know what happiness was like.

And I never knew if I got my wish.
It always felt like things went south.
From within the abandoned crosswalks.
I could feel only sad eyes staring me down.

I felt the whispers and warnings.
Every foggy afternoon.
When I'd wish for the man to supposedly appear.
Just for a simple request.

"I only want to be happy and loved."
It seemed to echo into the neverending winter.
But I waited anyway.
I had barely any warmth to spare.

But nothing came and so I left.
And I felt the pity trail behind my back.
As I walked down the path.
That I decided to stroll down.

And my life continued to go down hill.
I am no longer so young.
I have become accustomed to this world.
To all its cruel games.

I have been broken and shattered
Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over....I have forgetten.
I am tired.

So I came back to the crossroads.
No more warmth left in my body.
I did not come with a wish this time.
Only seeking a question.

"Why did you not grant my wish?"
And I waited again by the trails.
For anybody to appear now.
Anybody who could give me answers.

"What did I do wrong?"
The trees looked at me with misery.
The clouds gave me it's soft tears.
The mist hugged me as tightly as it could.

And from within the forest.
I could hear it's voice at last.
"You did nothing wrong."
I am shattering by the seams.

"I gave you what you asked for."
Then why am I so unhappy.
"Because happiness never lasts."
Am I always going to feel hopeless?

"No."
Then what am I meant to do?
"Nothing."
I don't understand.

"Because happiness will never mean anything without the struggle."

But I am shattered now, practically dust.
"But a phoenix is also reborn from it's ashes."
I no longer carry anymore warmth.
"But a fire can always be rekindled."

Is that all my life will be worth for?
"Life is always a struggle, it is survival."
But it is not what I asked for.
"No one chooses to have it willingly."

Am I meant to live on?
"Certainly you are."
Why? Why am I meant to be here.
"Because you want to."

What If I don't want to be here anymore.
"You have meaning you always will."
I don't understand.
"Your struggle and success to survive is enough to show for it."

And I could see the soot on my feet gather.
That was when the howling stopped.
I stood there still with no answers.
As the sun began to rise.

But I had a gut feeling I would not return to the crossroads again.

-Rain
hello ✨ been a while
I do not know what you want from me
Don't know what I did wrong
Can't tell if your feelings are real
Or if you are stringing me along
All I get
Mixed signals
One day interaction is great
Next you show indifference
Uncertainty what I hate
Constantly attempting to figure you out
What is running through your mind
Comb through the words you offer
Answers I never find
I long for you to be forthcoming
With your intentions
What you're really after
Something you don't mention
I wish I could read your thoughts
Psychosa Apr 12
A glass has come between me and reality.
This glass encapsulates my being.
The longer I remain in the glass,
the hazier my view becomes.
How I long to shatter it.

The glass has held me captive for quite some time,
and I realize I have come to know the glass like no other.
The glass has protected me from the strange outer world.

I have come to long for the glass which holds me.
But when I reach for the glass,
all I feel is bleak
and yet still my hand is left with nothing.

I cannot grasp the glass
because I cannot see the glass itself,
only what it is not.
Himani Dhaka Apr 4
Through the eyes of mine
that glitter and shine
into the fog of nothing
I see arcane paths and a frantic heart

I run away to feel safe and sound
Still the tail follows me around
Frenetic efforts and sleepless nights
Go into the fog of nothing…

When I look around
I see a imperfect past that surround
A flickering that guides
Into the fog of nothing

The pathless woods are eerie
This chanciness so weary
Yet the flickering star would guide
Through the fog of nothing…
Annie Apr 4
Is there romance in ***?
Does romance deplete once kisses turn to slobber?
Do I feel love when my shirt comes off?

After "I love yous" have been said
Or more accurately,
after I finally said "I love you too"
They lay me down
Say they need me
In this moment
It means so much to them.

And I can't tell
Was it romantic?
Would it have been moreso
If we just
Held hands?
Or stared at each other
In loving astonishment
At our mutual feelings?

Am I learning to feel the romance in ***?
Or do I just adore
That they
find romance in something that is so
sexualized?
lua Mar 31
time slips from my fingers
when i count each passing day
that passes by like passerbys
on a busy street
walking past me, my disillusioned form
an escaped daydream from a chronic sleepwalker
a recurring thought

the clinking of atoms like drinking glasses
the passage of space
things don't make sense nowadays
never really did

i'm just a ghost with no body to call home
translucent and vague
people watching forever
forever a thought bubble in a lonely man's world.
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