a blood-dyed string of destiny unites us,
from end to hematic end.
i dance and strafe,
to and fro,
skirring the breath-thin thread.
it’s not til’ i’m entangled
that i discern the red is my own alone.
my place in this web i apperceive,
while you perch upon the heart of the now gossamer,
like the right widow you are.

Soaked from the rain.
                                         Surrounded by figures.
                      Invisible to all.
                                                I heard it:
'You want to be loved.'
             The gray clouds enveloped the sky.
                                    I shook my head.
       Everything was crumbling.
                                                             Emptiness.
                                            Worthlessness.
                             Complaining.
                      Hatred.
              Distain.
       Apathy.
                                          I was seen,
                       But it wasn't me.
                                                                       Stop looking.

                                  The grass withered at my feet,
Turned to mud behind each worthless step.
                              My suit worn down with grime.
          Stained with dirt and blood.
                                  It looked nice,
                                             The stains were covered.

                    The voice:
     'Not loved for how you are.'
                       'But loved for who you are.'
                                     'Despite who you are.'
              'You want to belong in your existence.'
                              'You want you,'
               'The real you,'
'To be loved.'
            'Not the manufactured you,'
                                  'Not how you look,'
                                                 'Or how you act,'
                                                                   'You.'

                I laughed at it's words.
Feeling the urge to ***** and cry at the same time.
                                      But only smiling.

                                               Then I said no...
                                ...I said no...

Puddle.
           One day in the future I hope you open
            your eyes after it's rained,
            catching your reflection in the
            gathering
            water,
            and find yourself,
            free,
            alive,
            happy.

Youth.
            In an instant, her eyes widened,
             and I saw an innocence long lost,
             as tears began to form.

Blood.
           A stained white wood door,
            splattered in red,
            as the painter again,
            got lost in his head.

How to fix past mistakes.
           You can't. They're done.

Rope.    
          Tie us together,
          and hang out memories from the trees
          we used to climb.
          Suspend us forever with a infinite knot
          on fire.

How to Live with Yourself.
           With a song every morning.
           With change driven by guilt.
           A love never ending.
           A desire to be real.
                But all poetry aside,
                      With closed eyes,
                      deep breaths,
                      an empty mind,
                      and a wish for-

Coffee.
           A bitter taste,
            awakening touch.
           Sweet like cream and sugar,
           warm like cinnamon,
           I need you every morning,
           every day,
           all the time.

Milk Chocolate,
           stuck to my mouth,
           drying it.
           Always longing for something warm to
           wash it down with,
           but you just laugh and call it cute,
           as you wipe the stain from my face.

I miss you.
           Which you, I don't know.
            Whether the one I knew,
            or the one you are.
            I would die one thousand times just
            to see you again.
            It's harder still to know that others do,
            because you're gone,
            only to me.

The air falls silently,
incomplete repetition,
***** office carpet,
flickering ceiling light,
empty, collapsing, cubicles.

The wallpaper fades before your eyes.
People change.
You will die.

It takes emotion to be a true friend,
not presence,
just care,
intention.

Work will eventually mean nothing.

It doesn't matter if you are remembered.

Memories bleed a bed in which to lay.

The ribs break.

Clattering silverware as your parent's worry wins.

Silent dinners seeping dread.

The window panes crack,
dissolving into your mind.

You dream merely what you want to see,
not for others.

Crying heard muffled through the walls.

Futile attempt.

Shaking hands.

Scars, existent as not.

Childhood smile.

Scraped knee.

Painful silence.

It will all be good-
day,
night,
tomorrow,
future,
past,
-bye.

Stay with me one more moment.
One more minute.
One last time.

It will be okay.
Everything will be okay.

Kiss.
When you kissed me,
With my eyes still closed,
I said to you:
"I have never had a first kiss."

When I opened my eyes to see your reaction,
You were gone.
And I remembered.


Beds.
Beds are dangerous,
Life-threatening traps.
The sheets: a barbed binding,
Encasing and suffocating.
The covers:
A panic-soaked hug
filled with hyperventilation. (Get off of me!)
The pillow: rocky ground and spinal trouble.


Dreams.
Dreams are non-existent nightmares.
Burning houses and drowning lakes.
Warm open night air in freezing water.
Being locked inside a trunk.
Fields of fireflies.
Cicada's friction.
You.
Always you.


Cafe.
Coffee reminds me of you.
The sweet warmth of cinnamon.
Cool refreshing milk.
Bitter richness of coffee.

A subtle hint of scented lavender.
A pinch of ***** chilli.
Honey, a name as much as a flavor.
Vanilla, pure.


****.
Vulnerable.
On display.
Exposed.

I removed my clothes first,
But you kept yours on.

Disgusted by the sight...

Oh!
Why must all lessons worth learning
Begin with pain?

You know you are unworthy & undeserving,
Beneath me, love;
And yet, with shame,
You feel the same as you have always
That heart - of mine.
It is kindred, and full of lust.
Hopelessly infatuated,
Though you know we were all wrong.
You can't help it,
And you assure me it isn't obsession
For you have known that,
This is not it.

Just painfully unrequited,
For all your faults.

are there more than 60 songs
related to you and me
is that the reason
i skipped a lot
just to forget
just to dismiss
just to miss
for we shared a lot
for we kissed a lot
for those songs in exact moments
are perfect
just like us
before
in the past
not now
maybe i can try to listen again
but not for you anymore
for those times
for the memories
the end