The streets are dark,
on Christmas eve;
with none to rule & conquer darkness...
Staring at an abyss...thinking there's hope,
the long Halloween's nightmare lies still...
Snow slowly stranding shadows upon such a splendid slumber - this macabre alley presumed a plain phantasm.
The scent of chestnuts...flattered nothing but a bitter sweet souvenir;
even you...resemble a phantom of grief!
That terrace taught turmoil & tragedy,
on Christmas day;
all reunited to cherish cruelty & carve out hypocrisy from honesty...

~ A. Rose

You love me
But you go to her

You need me
But not that much

Can’t take anymore
But I can’t leave

What the hell am I here again for?

is it already this time again?

I don‘t need to ask, because I know
the falling rain has turned to snow

the bluest sky covered by grey
fallen leaves stained with decay

like every cycle reaches its end
no life is anymore left to fend

light becomes something we don‘t see
rays of sun each day a fleeting memory

around me this ancient world solemnly dies anew
while I watch silently, sipping on a tea I just brew

Today, I
put a full stop
at the end
of an on-going
poem,

the sad part was
that I thought it will
bleed beyond it,

but all it asked for
as a light mentioning
in pages,

I had to refuse
so I added another
full-stop..

A life ignites, only to extinguish in time’s relentless grasp – just
as a year dawns, yet fades away without so much as a whisper.
Here I stand, teetering on the precipice of the new, bidding
adieu to the past, resting upon this pedestal of moments;
I yearn to voice my thoughts, yet hesitate to preach.

It is all too simple for one to recount the trials of a year, to boast
of triumphs over adversity. But what if, for some, the conclusion
merely serves as the bitter prelude to yet another distressed chapter?

In the grand of our existence, there are moments of sweetness,
fleeting as a confection – yet the bitterness we endure clings to
our lips, overshadowing the once delightful flavours.
This year has been a grand banquet, glorious yet marred by
unwelcome intruders: fury, regret, despair, heartbreak, betrayal,
pain, sorrow, and loss – a feast both lacklustre and so dreadful.

Yet, amidst the fury, there lies the soothing balm of silence to
soothe a troubled heart. Where regret lingers, it serves as a
poignant reminder of paths best left pathless. From the depths
of despair, a vivid portrait emerges, crafted from the ink of my
struggles. In the wake of heartbreak, I find solace in the truth that
even the most hardened souls harbour a tender echo of softness.

Betrayal has bestowed upon me the fortitude to extend trust,
albeit with an alert heart. In the face of pain, my spirit bears
wounds yet remains resolute, ready to rise beyond the scars.
Where sadness dwells, cherished memories dance through
my tears, illuminating the darkness. And in the shadow of loss,
I glean wisdom from the echoes of what I once cherished.

All these revelations I have gathered upon this pedestal of time.

We never got here.

would you rather--

wake up lazily,
dark clouds rolling above the hills outside,
soft plip-plip of the rain pattering against the window,
leaving the warmth of your nest,
you head to the kitchen to grab a *** of scorching coffee,
and it's bitter and home and complete, just like you like it.
and as you're swallowing, humming an old tune to yourself,
you realize.
it's gone.
you don't know where you left it.
where it is now.
but it's gone. dear god, dear god, it's gone.
you rush to the corners of your mind
pillaging memories and experiences
because where did it go?
you had it--you had it, I know you had it--but now you don't
you can picture it, so clearly, in your smile, in your eyes and--
now it's missing.
and you empty and discard those boxes you'd so neatly stacked up
and exhume those bodies you'd so categorically buried
and--and--it's not there. or here. or anywhere.
overnight, it disappeared.
like the memory of sitting in your grandpa's lap.
or those french revolution dates you memorized not long ago.
it's gone and you're not sure how
but everything feels kind of numb
and it feels like...this is it.
snap.
the end.

wake up with a pounding in front of your eyes,
he's lying next to you but the blankets are cold,
and his freckles seem dimmer; his eyes more brown than green
neither of you is smiling,
and the dishes are piled up in the sink,
and it's been like this for a while.
the hugs turned into lingering gazes,
the lingering gazes into cold awkward tension.
you couldn't name it for the life of you;
that acidic pit at the bottom of your stomach
that numbness around your twined fingers
the dialogue that dies as soon as it leaves your mouths
like a joke taken too far or a poem meant for another day.
it's a slow death.
the i love yous' absence is so strong you constantly hear it in your ear
buzzing, ringing, reminding you of a feeling that once was.
in the middle of a crowd, your eyes don't go to his anymore,
no more shared grins, eyebrow lifts, mouthed words.
dancing, and waltzing, and spinning around the truth
because it's gone.
it hurts (or maybe, it's supposed to)
and, either way, it's gone.
and now, you're just waiting for the crows to pick at your corpse,
pick at it and declare it dead.
because someone has to.