The worst way to lose somebody is to be, in his heart, ordinary; to be his luxury turned duty.

And the things he do, he does them to keep up with you, but not anymore to keep you.

This is when you'll know you've lost him. This is when it will hurt. But only until this you'll know you've loved deeply.

Your lips would blister with prayers for his return, but no poetry in the world could touch his soul and guide him back to your arms--

none unless the words are yours.*



P.S. *You'll only truly lose him when you start to think that maybe after all, you've never truly loved him. And that is also when you'll lose yourself-- to your own make-believe.

you
I'm good with words and creating metaphors on pages that seem to capture my emotions
    but then I met you
and a mere simple sentence or simile cannot compare to you
   I've always been great at guarding my heart and never going too far, but for you I opened my rib cage to reveal my most inner insecurities and unmasked my soul to find comfort in your emerald eyes.
Looking at you I see a home within a person.

If loving is breathing I would take you in with every delicate sigh

The curves of our lips meet and it's like kissing the earth as you colour my mind with beauty, for nothing could be more passionate nor more perfect than losing myself in you.

You are art in the purest form for you make me feel something real.

You loved me so much
You refused to believe who I really am
And you belittled the true me
To make me at your false image of myself

I loved you so much
I started to believe that art, poetry and me
We were becoming really futile
And I lost myself in the process of pleasing you

You didn't understand
And you did not really try
I was not angry then
But I'm just angry now.

Because when I ended it
You lost yourself in the process of leaving me
And you're trying to get to me,
To the idea of me, yourself thought I was

So understand someting:
I am a true independent self
I am a tortured artist, writer and poet
And I ******* love who I became !

Sometimes
You break your own
Heart.

I’m losing the battle with depression.
This sickness of my mind.
It’s taken over all of me in ways you cannot see.
The demons in my soul and the darkness of my heart.
“Pretend” symptoms that cannot be measured.
Only those with the illness understand.

I’m losing the battle with my illness.
Feeling my body giving in.
Slower movement with a hugged in body.
Eyelids drooping down.
A paler face from the never sleep.
I do look sick.
But maybe from a cold.

I’m losing the battle with an illness.
The illness appears as a cold.
But there is no sniffling nose around.
Instead, hidden tears and ****** arms.
My hair is not falling out.
My body is not attacking itself.
All in all I don’t look sick.

I’m losing my body to depression.
I’m losing my health and soul.
I’m taking the blood from my heart.
With hopes of ridding the body of the bug.
Inside I feel the darkness.
Inside I feel the cold.

I’m losing this battle.
No matter how hard I fight.
I’ll lose one day.
And be taken from this life.

I put myself through the test,
failing is what I know best,
Not a chance of glory,
I try not to worry,
Because the results are always the same,
That's how I play the game,
Never completing just always cheating,
Dreams of dreaming and nothing achieving,
Standing in line that never ends fine,
That hopeless dream that wonderful thought that future that withholds your special spot,
It always seems right in the beginning that's true but towards the end we all know what's in store for me and you, You'll achieve the dream wonderful life,
I'll sit on the sidelines feeling nothing only despite,
So I hold my breath and count to 10 knowing this is my destiny till the end.

"Do you want to be with me"
sorry I don't know what to say--
as I hold their hand, it ripples
it is the rush of anxiety
but feels like water combing through my hands
as I get shampoo out of my hair; in the shower.  

There is a tremble in their breath
reminding me of catching droplets of water
in the canal of my ear
and having to tilt my head
for them to drop back into obscurity.

Their smell is fresh an aroma so soothing
feeling the clean scent of oranges and apples
a flourishing sample I briefly enjoy
when I pour a quarter sized dollop of shower gel.

Their eyes are watery
while they struggle to hide the parchness of their smile
is a somber reflection of hot water running out
and not having any heat left to turn towards
so the only option
is to get out of the shower.  

Their words are mumbled, but I can understand "why"
trying to hide the shakiness in their hands and breath
I can't help but imagine the endorphin's frantically
trying to take control; to fight or flight--  
A similar feeling I have when rushing
to get warm after a cold shower.

I am a leech
And I can feel myself ******* you dry
I can feel you getting dry
Or maybe I'm just losing grip
But one of us is dying
And I hope to god it's me.