Born by the spellbound of love and destruction, held like a pretense of heartstrings. Each crevice is traced to you, it is heavenly bestowed.
I was lovelorn, following the trails of this uncertain path engraved deeply that leads to you.

Your eyes were pits of abyss,
a gravity force of unknown,
a precipice before the great fall;
the moment that I found you is when I lose myself.

II. Abyss
And at the end, we'll all just be stories
burrowed in my skin, on each pale flesh is draped with what could have lingered. adorned with a chrysalis on my chest, it cages the hollows of the abyss. Then soon I'll be a fleeting moment you carry in your heart.

I feel her love
But it is painful
In every gift I got from her
Something seems to be lost forever
I hope that it can still be found

In distance, melancholia
Fills up each moment of forgiveness
In self blame, doubt, I drown
Each feeling so that I -
Don't feel the pain and cry.

I try to see the positive
But guilt is underneath of it
What have I done?
What have I lost?
I am confused
And barely let her close.

I try. But there's a wall of what? between us,
Like a kaleidoscope, a picture hard to grasp.
It could be fears and anger,
But shame won't let me see beyond them, I confess.

There are two opposing things that define me: a poignant in eulogy, a melancholia in a deep blue sky and
a parallel and current;
it is boundless.

My love is an empty cage, grown in an innocent body, tearing flesh by flesh,
yearning mouth by mouth, a chest is a garden full of butterflies, my veins is a vial of momentary currents and curves molded to each caresses of something that lingers.

These parallels are a loose thread that bounds a brokenness, and on each pull of the gravity, I would ache to skin and bone.

                                        It is boundless.

I see you
as I study my homework,
wanting to impress you
with my grades
I see you when I'm sad,
as a reminder of all
that I do have
and what I do not;
you make me admit,
in spite of my stubbornness,
I am more
than I think I am
my brain has been the enemy
and my body has been
the most vile essence I know
for I have bruised it
too many times
that I could never
deem it as beautiful,
but you show me
I am not represented to you,
as I am to myself.

I'd wish to know, if we're only an idea of tall tales that meet the skeletons in both our closets and thus, it solely goes romanticizing my tarnished land.

In fury, my escapism brought me home away from home and there he was, he's the familiarity I'd wish, I never know.

So dear, he's already 'a home',
I'd live and die at times he's all I have and so this borrowed chance, as to what I afeared of, my love is building; a labyrinth, I'd never wish to escape.

Slowly fall
The teardrops of the rain,
Slowly into the lake.
Slowly comes September,
As always,
Slowly clasping its hands around us.
Slowly the trees transform
Into ghosts,
Slowly the apples fall and rot,
And the pumpkins, slowly too,
Grow and mature.

Autumn comes slowly.
We feel it in the
Nights and in the wind
Growing colder and colder.
Slowly summer came and left.
And now,
We are left with what
We always had,
Not much:
Two warm hearts
Holding each other,
Two minds content
With time well spent,
Despite the changing times,
Despite September.

A cup of coffee,
I feel its warmth in my hands.
This warmth, I know,
Will soon vanish against
The cold, salty air.
The clouds bring rain.
We know that.
The clouds scream your name
And the trees resemble your face,
Serene, as you ponder, as you wonder.

A cup of coffee,
You brought me,
And I think of you
As a warm cup I hold in my
Trembling hands,
Whilst the cold, wet air
Tries on and on
To push me away from you.

But for now,
We are here together,
Watching as the tiny pebbles
At the beach
Get damped slowly.
And we know.
The storm will soon fall upon us.
But for now,
We stand here,
Looking into each others eyes.

Half the time I forget I'm a woman
Half the time I'll act the man
There is no lad out there who will treat me
Like the lady I ought to be;
And so I'm skulking like the teenage duellist
That I wrote into my stories, cruellest
In my smile and style, harsh blacks,
Harsh silvers, stinging hylauronic gloss
The only thing that reminds you that the tax
I place upon myself is a compromise from my loss.
I will fight all those scoundrels for me
Dosed up on Panic! as only I can be
"Whoa! Mona Lisa!" Aye, but catch me bare my teeth,
Catch me look at you, eyelashes poignards, like the iris underneath
The deepest blue
To remind you
I'm not entirely the goth I paint myself to be;
And tomorrow it'll change, as the black shirt'll be *****
And thrown into the wash, and I'll still try to cut a picture
In my poet's silk blouse and blood-red lipstick; I indenture
Them into this image - I'm surviving for every next coming dawn
But, yeah, I'm doing it in a style - that of the dagger drawn.

i am bone-tired and befogged with melancholia; i cannot wait to fall and bounce cheerlessly in a field of forlorn, arenaria flowers, all over the sunless forest floor. leave me be — a strange girl in a sleepy, run-down town. leave me be — a hopeless case in my own quiet apocalypse.

some say she was born with a broken heart,
unmendable by word or deed, and now armed
with a quiver full of witticisms and deft vertical
palm, friends, lovers, the world, all held at bay,
lest they discover her sorrow