Like the Grim Reaper
You took the life I had 
No scythe, no robes, no fear
Just a longing, desperate kiss
A look of yearning, a smile of love
I may still wake up and count the time
But my heart is long gone
Death wasn't cold or hard 
It was warm and soft
An embrace from an angel 
I gave you my future and self
But that future is dead
And that person is gone
My body is still here
But the hopes were slain
The Grim Reaper herself
Was so beautiful and alluring
I didn't realize she killed me 
Not with a blade of doom
But with a tearful goodbye 
My heart pumps blood still
But my heart lives for no one

I walk up the steps.
Slowly, savoring the peace that fills the air.
The door stays unlocked.
Everything looks the same- untouched.
The air is warm.
Still.
It feels like home.

I sit down.
It is everything I wanted.
Peace falls in through the windows.
I can feel the sun on my face.

Then I remember.
This place isn’t real.
It doesn’t exist.
I never built it.
I never lived here.
I’ve never felt real peace like that.

I stay longer than I mean to.
Each time, it’s harder to leave.
Safety without questions or emotions.
Like I never had to earn any of it.

It only shows when I close my eyes.
It only holds me in silence.
No one else knows.
But I know the walls aren’t real.
I only built it because I needed somewhere to go.

I stay a little longer.
I let it hold me anyways.
Not knowing the next time I will feel this again.
Even if it is fake.

Then I open my eyes.
And try to carry the warmth with me.
Even if the house isn’t real.
Even if the peace is fake.

And still-
When I close my eyes, it’s the only place that’s home.

Leaving gets harder.
The ache lasts longer.
But I always leave.

Because I have to.
Because this house won’t follow me.
Because dreams aren’t real.
It’s too dangerous to stay in dreams.
Even if it’s the only time I’ve felt peace.
It wasn’t real.
And it never will be.

The warmth fades.
I carry what I can.
Now I’m cold.
Alone.
No safety, no peace.
Even if it was fake, I still had it.
Some part of me always stays behind.
That part is hope.

Hope only exists in my dreams.
I have to let it go in order to leave.
Some dreams live just to be visited.

What is dreaming,
If not sweet release?
A reminder of where you're safe,
Your fears, far away.

What is dreaming,
If not reminding me,
My thoughts are impure.

Where is the dream that once reached for the sky?
Where is the dream that soared like a bird, fearless and high?
Where is the dream that dove deep like a fish, exploring the ocean with wonder and wish?

Where is the dream that drifted like clouds,far from the noise, away from the crowds?
Where is the dream that smelled like a flower, spreading joy with its quiet power?


Where is the dream that closed its eyes,in a mother’s lap, beneath bedtime tunes?
Where is the dream that looked to the stars,hoping to reach where the heavens are?
Where is the dream that painted the sky in colors of hope, rising so high?


These dreams were born and grew with the years, nurtured by laughter, watered by tears.
But somewhere along the winding road,
They fell shattered in silence, carrying the load.

Was it growing up that made them fade?
Or the heavy weight of promises made?
Was it the burden of duty, quiet and unnamed?
Or the flood of emotions, too wild to be tamed?


Now I ask in the hush of the night,
Did these dreams ever truly take flight?
Or were they only a part of me
A beautiful illusion, longing to be free?

Yet deep inside, a soft voice says,
"The dream is not gone, it’s just lost in the haze."
Maybe it waits for a kinder day,
To rise again and find its way.

So I will search with an open heart,
To find that dream and make a new start.
Because dreams don’t die they simply sleep,
In the corners of our soul, buried deep.

weight.
that’s all I feel now.

the weight of silence.
absence.  
thoughts like boots
stuck in mud up to my knees.

thirteen thousand nights
pounding out of my chest like a riot mob
choking on my life
and staring down twenty thousand more.
****.

the searing void
of an ancient sugared kiss
sends tears down my face
like tiny iron weights—
a silent guillotine.
you’re so far away now.
or maybe I am.

dusting off dreams
like they’re old pictures
and setting them back on the shelf
in this violet desert.
mirage or memory?
who knows.

I’ve become a warm corpse
mumbling “no”
to the tired lives that want to ride me
like an old horse
one limp away from being glue.

who is there to tell?
who the hell would listen?
who’d step foot
onto the interstate of my heart
dodging semis
and roadkill potpourri?

doesn’t matter.
the dreams look clean again.
and that’s enough
to keep the lights on in the cell
for another thousand nights.

so keep that duster handy.
go back to sleep.

these nights are hungry.
and they’re not going to eat themselves.

Was frustrated, so decides to take a high
A pill that many said could ****
Not scared of death cos I thought it was worth
Thoughts that came in, when I lied

Life was fun when I have the dreams
Of wonderland that never ends
Nor shadows cast; with mints and means
Yet, someone tried to take my life

A half-filled cup I left behind
The remnant down, the poison skipped
As unaware as I could ever be
Fate somehow works to keeps me safe

I wish this was a song of praise
An adoration of one's immunity
But while I can't deny the rave
I pray our fate's not less the same

If for nothing, make I explain
We have those dreams that never gape
Yet not so many declare the same
My pray' your dreams will never fade