may 13th, 9:22 pm
it's so silly to think that you used to be so warm underneath me and now you're underneath the ground six feet in and no one to love or kiss your broken fingers

may 16th, 8:41 pm
i wish you didn't have to leave me
i wish you could've killed me yourself
your heart's too soft for that though and i love you all the more for it
that's still not stopping me from missing you still

may 27th, 12:34 am
i loved you
i still do
fuck you for leaving and not telling me about it
how could you have done that
you caught me unaware, you bastard
i miss you

jul 6th, 11:32 pm
my chest hurts
i don't think it's my ribs this time
it feels deeper

jul 18, 4:03 pm
i wish you and i had been a little stronger
i wish i had a chance to see your greying hair
to kiss your wrinkled eyelids
to wrap myself around you
'til death do us part

jul 20, 2:47 am
death came a little early for you, darling
you were my dream

jul 23, 6:08 pm
you still are.

i am still deeply, unapologetically in love with you. i don't think i'll ever stop.

you've always believed in two things religiously:
1) if you want something, you have to pull your hair back, grit your teeth, and work for it.
2) stopping from improving is regressing.

tonight, i realise that it was never about winning.
never about getting that medal or that spot on the stage.
it was silly of me to think that you just wanted my blood on your hands.
starving for recognition from your blood family, you were in a completely different competition than i was.

we carried corpses on our bruised shoulders.
they pushed against our broken backs; our swollen knees trying to keep our bodies upright.
you once told me i had a face that was good for punching,
and, oh god, i'd have had let you if it meant your hands on my skin.

in the end, what's left was this:
a single note in a cacophony of screams.

you are dead.
you are dead.
you are dead.

maybe if i keep repeating it to myself, i'd start believing it.

and yet it's far too late for impulsive declarations of love.
too late for so many things.

(but some days, i like thinking of you, thinking of me.)

you know i will always want to dance with you.

to the you before that day, october 23, 2015: i will still love you.

your moans stamped themselves on my skin,
but your laughter ripped my ribs apart and kissed this broken heart

they say that those who love us the most have the most claim on us.
maybe they were right.


(if i can't have you here, take me with you how dare you fucking leave me you selfish bastard) (but you're still here with me, aren't you? even though you've become one with the earth—i'm so fucking jealous my blood is boiling why can't you just be satisfied being one with me, in me: your lips your tongue your fingers your fist your cock let me in your ribs let me kiss your non-beating heart—you live in the walls, you are the phantom in the shadows long after i've turned the lights off before i go to sleep you live even in the curves of the cutlery, in the shattered pieces of your mug, in the hidden bottom of our bedside table, under the bed, on our sheets, in every strand of my hair—you are here, yet you are nowhere—like air—and you never planned to leave me alone at all, did you darling)

An old metal box locked away
A treasure chest if you may
Containing fragments of your childhood
A china doll, broken
Photographs stained with age
The thunderstorm struck, you told me it would
That cursed the hours of your days

I awoke this morning
And in my veins flowed a longing sensation
My lungs tried to inhale as much air as they could
I paced up and down the pale hallway
That echoed with your golden memories
Your laughter danced up and through the window
Your tears rained down throughout the cities light show

All that was left was;
An old metal box, locked away
A treasure chest if you may
Containing fragments of your childhood

If only I could feel no pain.
If only I couldn’t recognize
the dark alleys of anxiety,
the hollow trenches of grief and sadness,
weighed down by the anchor of guilt,
devoured by the pouncing tiger of anger.

A path that was once so clear to me,
is now engulfed in fog.
Every step I take, I tread with caution,
for one false move and I hit the ground.

With every tick, the clock gets louder,
echoing in my brain.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The sand in my timer is running out.

With every beat, blood pumps in my body,
echoing in my veins,
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
I am a heart waiting to flatline.

But if only I could feel no pain!

I would never again have to repair
the broken-down walls
of the city that is my soul,
just to let the tsunami of pain tear them down again.

I would never endure another sleepless night,
my head resting on a drenched pillow.
I would never spend another minute submerged,
the riptide pulling me under.

My heart would never be broken
if nothing could break it.
I would never feel like nothing
if I felt nothing at all.

But the truth is,
If you take away
your thirst,
you’ll never know your need for water.

These emotions remind us what it is to be happy.
If you feel nothing, you have nothing
have no pain, have no pleasure
Forget what it’s like to cry, forget what it means to laugh
Take all of it away, and what are you?

numb.
Frostbite from head to toe.
Painkillers, ice packs, and anesthetics all at once,
silencing the nerves,
silencing the heart.

Earth's breath
      inhale
      exhale
The pain ebbing with the waves
Of all the cliches of course you picked the ocean
      codependent on the moon
Of course I am waning
      waiting
      trying to regain control
Of course you have a mind of your own
Mother dear no wonder you ached so long to reach me
      and now I am a mammoth of grief
      a decomposing whale carcass on your banks
      begging your tide to pull me in with you
But I am too heavy for you now
      and you refuse
Mother dear no wonder you tried so hard to teach me
      and the new moon has lasted for weeks

born of blast furnace heat
swirling and shimmering
skies rained blood

earth sodden
enriched with grief
it seeps to transition

passage via roots
of long dead trees
leaching through depths

shredding and stripping
the substance of life
constituents left behind

now neophytes release
into the next phase
in the evolution of tears

@journeyofdays

“ *evolution of tears #3* ”  is the third part in the series of poetry and paintings

When I look at your photograph,
my son, there beside my bed,
the one of you in dark suit
and glasses, dressed as

a Blues Brother for the work's
Christmas party gig, I have
to smile, yet at the same time
hold back the tears, as days

become weeks and weeks
become months and months
years, since your untimely death
soon after. Silent now the jubilation,

rare the celebration, low key if
at all the laughter. The only
photograph where you're not
smiling, where you stare back

in fixed unsmiling mode, as if
you had some inner clue or
foresight of your fate one month
ahead when you would be no
longer here, but dead.

A father talks to his dead son.

There is this feeling I get
when I'm laughing with friends
or Listening to certain songs
or even just experiencing life in general,
where my heart is about to burst,
and I feel as if someone shot me.
a bullet ripping right through my ribcage.

Is there a demon sitting on my chest?
because I can't breathe, and my entire body feels like I'm on fire and drowning at the same time.

I hope that one day, I'll be able to breathe when you cross my mind. But for now, my face will be blue
And so will my heart.

I'm still waiting for myself to move on. But I don't think I will ever. The only reason I could possibly do it, is because you hated when people couldn't move on from their dead loved ones and would romanticize them.
misty 3d

i do not regret what i have done
i do not regret the monster i have become

i do not regret pulling tears out of their eyes
i do not regret feeling butterflies when i lie

i do not regret entertaining my powers
i do not regret loving my darkest hours

i do not regret all the sins in which i have showered
i regret not having brought you any flowers

i miss you and i love you and i am sorry if i ever hurt you
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