Death takes many forms.
He can be harsh and cruel and cold
Or kind and merciful.

He takes people away,
Usually when the time comes.
Sometimes, the people even gave their permission for him to take them away.
Some even initiated it. Some were unaware of it.

Those were the ones that he truly mourn.
He mourns the absence of a bright-eyed child
In such a deep dark world.

For when the death knell strikes twelve,
A new world begins.

He watches as others try
to manage without the one taken away.  
He watches as they try and save
The ones that were taken away.
He watches as they call upon divine intervention,
Going so far as to ruin their lives,
Just to give the ones they love a second chance to live.

He wanted to wipe their warm tears away.
He wanted to hug them and feel as the fight in them went out.
He wanted to take them away to a faraway place where they won’t hurt no more.
But it was not time for him to do so.

He waits until the end of time.

He is inevitable and yet he waits.

He may strike suddenly, but still;

He waits.

In the way that
Perfume smells different
On the skin
Than it does
In the bottle,
You are different on me.

You came to me
Swirling with chaos
And confusion,
And a brooding rage;
Like storm clouds
Provoking the tidal wave.

Your skin on mine
Smells like the calm
Before the storm;
Like morning coffee
And French vanilla
Goodbye kisses.

Like fresh picked lavender,
And a pinch of mint
Mixed with calming vanilla;
One inhale and I
Am transported to
A place that is home.

Home is where the
Heart is, and my heart
Is honeysuckle
And feathers,
And your touch.
And you, always you.

Dizzy rainbow after
the aural
Downpour; drained to the
Ditches.

Arms like ivy reach for
Sunlight;


I reach for you.

I've been swallowing my teeth in my sleep
I've been texting my exes even though I told myself no

And I realise that it's just the late night thoughts.

Tomorrow will be better
I will make it better.

I will mould it with my bare hands,
design every scenario like an architect.
I will change people's minds.

I'm going to wake up,
I know I will because I've seen it, in my dreams.
I dreamt of the moon and stars disappearing so suddenly like every lover and friend I accumulated.
And although I thought I was alone,
I felt the slow creeping warmth of the sun
and it was then I understood how life is created and sustained through:
such gentle burning power.

I find an element of peace
and hope in my slumber.
The moon, she speaks to me
in a lost language that only we
seem to understand.
She feeds me the bitter-sweetest
of dreams
that slice my heart in shreds
when I awake.

I've dreamt of loving arms around me
I've wished for soft lips upon my cheek
I've hoped for hands searching for me

I dreamt and felt strong caring arms around me
but when I woke,
I found I was only holding
myself.
And I can feel myself put so much distance between everyone who cares about me that I feel like I'm floating out to sea with my bed as a raft.

The Moon,
she does not care about my real life
only my dream life.
Now I'm a trembling addict
who never wants to leave wonderland,
because my waking leaves me so miserable,
and yearning for something more.
I get ravenous, beastly
sometimes maybe, delirious.
I forget who I am,
but it feels so nice not being me.

I leave her letters and wishlists,
in places I know she'll shine,
In hopes that she'll marry me one day.
because it's not the falling that hurts
it's the landing
so save me from heartbreak
and keep me falling