Ages, years, days, months…
All night, all day…
Why does this world seem lost in greys?
I wonder if this is too much to be real
Or is it just my vision lost in crepuscule?

I promise, I am not arrogant as you think,
I just— don't know how to act.
I promise, I am not jealous as you think,
I just —crave appreciation for my work out of care.
I promise, I am not someone who loves to ditch our group plans,
I just —prioritize the rules and words my loved ones say.
I promise, I don't love to lie or hide my things,
I just— don't want you all to be disappointed.
I promise, I am not someone who loves to scream every time,
I just—feel disappointment in myself.
I promise, the things you think I never care about,
Those are the literal ones that haunt me everywhere…
Haunt me — self-doubt, questioning myself more than anyone ever could.
And at a moment i wonders—

Don’t I Deserve to be me,too?

I am cursed with the affliction of kindness.
And I will haunt this earth until I have seen the end of all things beautiful.
I prepare my epitaph, so that I may visit my own grave—
and mourn every piece of myself that I changed.

Perhaps this is all I was meant for—
to love until I disappear.

I was always at the precipice—
between my sanity and my own chaos
They said, we were connected by a thread, and all of the events around us is not a momentary scene nor from nowhere.
Threads connect the dots, entangled through the hands of a lover, and it treads a path where it can come back to you.

your ghost will haunt you back more than your old rags and ***** laundry. crows will haunt you down like a bounty.

''I might take the shoes off,
Still, I remember all our walks.
I might have a new pen,
Yet I remember every little plan.

I might be tough,
Still, every time I look up to the sky, I see your laugh.

I lied to people about my favourite flower,
Because I always recall the day you gave me a wildflower.

The sun is shining while I'm standing on the ice

Why isn't it melting?
**** it, I always hated playing dice.

Repeating over and over, the same cycle every day
Just makes it too hard to stay.

I'm just going to lay...
But every time I see the moon, it makes me want to see you soon.

All I want to do is catch a train
And hope for the evening to rain.

Do you understand me?
I mean, how can I be understood
When I explain with running words hidden under a hood?

How will you get me,
When all my thoughts are running barefoot through the woods?

Where is my blanket? Where is my pillow?
Are my jeans too tight?

Maybe I need to find the light,
Because I don't want to fight anymore
So I’ll just open my door.

I can’t find my blanket or my pillow.
There’s no tree to offer me some shade.

Maybe... I'm the willow.''

It's a clockwork — like the dances of phantoms in the hallways, in the glow of lights through the window at night. I stared like a burglar from afar, It's the fear and anger, that's keeping me restless — a reminder that I should sleep with one eye open, meager, furiously shame.

I understand how stubborn they are rewriting the history, as I try to recollect, catching trails like they were footsteps. Love is all they worship from the beginning of time, thus it crumbles them to dust.

Are they second - hand embarrassed? If I couldn't see the ghosts and shadows lingering everywhere, yet here I am nestled to all that fairy tale, for a momentary, and still plotting the sweetest lullaby. Did they haunt you too? as if it were a chunk to the armour or it counterfeits them?

There’s something about late September
that makes me want to text people
I only miss when I’m too tired to lie.

There’s a moth in my mouth again.
I try to sing and it *****.

Some nights I rehearse conversations
with people I haven’t forgiven.
Some of them are alive.
Some of them are me.

I keep a list of people
I swore I’d stop dreaming about.
I keep dreaming anyway.

I talk to no one
like they’ll answer differently this time.
I wake up with a wingbeat
pressed into the backs of my teeth.

I think I’m leaking
something no one taught me how to name.
It leaves stains on my straws
It fogs the mirror before I do.
It answers to my voice
but only when I’m not using it.

There’s something about late September
that makes everything feel returned,
but not forgiven.
I don’t text them.
I let the silence say maybe I meant to.

I believe in saying things out loud
To me a thought is an incomplete bargain
Unsealed until invited
to the world of the living
With a voice, a sound, even a gesture will do
That’s why it’s paramount
To say, ‘look it hurts right here”
To say, ‘it’s been 11 years, yet to me you’re always in the next room, through the door past the kitchen’
Do not let your grief bother the ghosts
A thought unsaid lives with the phantasma
And one shouldn’t haunt more alive than dead

-UV