On the corner of your pages
I'll leave not my name
Nor my wretched face,
But a word of thanks

You let me read your stories
Shared to me your worries;
I somehow became part
Of your wonderful art

I would be greatly honored
If you saw my crooked words
And remember those times
That once our pages aligned—

Where laughters are easy to find
So did our cries and whines.

My heart weeps in silent cries,
Yet knows not the reason why.
The mind’s a storm of perplexity,
Where love of Man is chained and bound.

The sky resounds with silver voices,
While earth lies scattered with broken hearts.

I ravage myself in hopes,
but purity was all u needed.
Crinkled bedsheets,
White snow turned red and purple,
Is this your kind of pretty?

My love is such a wretched thing,
To keep within and about.
I spoon it to your lips,
And yet you spit it out.

I built a castle from scattered bones,
Laced it with echoes of your name.
Yet every wish turns out to be ash,
And every ember dies the same.

I see cloak of winter
wrapped in foggs of our sighs,
in between hopes,
in between lies,
out of warmth,
out of cries.

Fortune tells winter-
Tomorrow if  I
wishfully might die,
winter is cold, winter is blind.

Shall the cries of the dead be heard?
When the world quites down,
Do the weeping winds coax their pain?
Seeping the ground for their comfort,
Will the rain find it's purpose then?
Will it be happy knowing it's not just a source of shallow joy for the living?
Will the clouds stop crying?
Out of pity for the dead,
once alive,
Does the sun apprise us of the regret of the day before or the one ahead,
Does it pity the ones it doesn't serve,
The ones dead

Could you pawn enough courage to smile and pretend that everything is going to be fine? Just this time. One last time.

While the lines are blurred, and cries inside unheard, know that as the end unfurls it is that way by design.

As we cower like cowards in corners we run towards the cracks as the daylight chases us to remind us of the debt we owe for squandering every streak of light  on fights and afternoon delights, you and I knew somehow, we needed a place to hide. In an obscured sense, it is that of saying goodbye.

When I set the pen down and let ink bleed into the parchment, when I twiddle my thumbs cognizant of the things I meant, much is pondered about why the room in your heart I pay rent and as a tenant, I’m flagged delinquent.

And on your end, all along, you had all of me tucked in your hand. The silence too abstruse for one to comprehend and is unnerving.

Perhaps you found me undeserving of a love always teetering on the brink just waiting to succumb to gravity. Now the weight of unspoken truth bears down so heavily on us as we fall apart.

This throbbing anxiety seems to walk the road of eternity and in our insanity, we were two pyromaniacs playing fire with destiny, and destiny, a sadist as it may be, there is a horizon bordering its cruelty and honestly, we were vampires driving stakes in each other’s heart.

What I meant is speak your truth or forever hold your peace, for while we had our falling we loved nonetheless. No matter how we repress the past together you and I undressed and the future fraught with regrets, I must confess, though I detest, today we leave what we  had and we leave it to rest.

i miss being wanted. i know i must have felt it before, because how can one long for something they've never known?
i wish i was able to believe in love outside of view.
but it seems like every new moon i forget your touch
and i'm running through the woods just to make you love me again.
i believe you every time you tell me you could never hate me (how couldn't i)
but sometimes your words don't last.
sometimes i lie in bed trying to make myself dream of you so i won't exhaust you with my cries in the night.
sometimes i want to take advantage of your soft hands
feel safe in your mind
and let you take care of me even when i don't need it.
it makes me feel selfish, to want that kind of love.