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Melancholy paints my skin red, my soul black.
I am a painting.
I wrote this with a pen,
In my notebook,
At least a million times.

At first,
It was simple & clean
Like the Utada Hikaru song we kept listening to,
Underneath a cloud full of spliff smoke.
But then it turned complex & morally contaminated.
Like the time you sat in my desk chair
And released your stomach acid onto my floor.

It reeked of alcohol
And so does my breath at this current moment.

It's hard for me to express my pain
Without feeling the presence of the nimbus clouds in my mind
Come closer to making my face burst into tears.
But I'm going to try.

Hearing the news that you died,
Plagued my ears and spider-cracked my soul.
I'm never going to be the same knowing that
Your physical existence will not be roaming around this earth.

The huge disk of memories we created are on vinyl
Constantly replaying in my head
But scratching after May 13th.
That was the last time I saw your infectious smile
And felt your tight bear hug that provided me with warmth.

After our palms clapped
And fingers interlocked,
I felt your heartbeat with my knuckle.
We were more than friends.
We were brothers.
We were humans that had souls that understood each other.

I'm not going to lie,
I am still damaged and feel out of place in this world.
Where do I go from here?
How do I feel better?

I think about you every night,
With my tear filled eyes soaking the lifelines of my palms.
I keep the thoughts of you replaying in my head,
Knowing that your spirit has touched the souls of many,
I can't help but feel this sad.
But I know that one day I will
Feel better.

I tried to find the answers at night,
Underneath the night sky
Where the stars shined bright,
And the moon provided solace.

I confessed my pain to the moon every night,
It illuminated my soul
And gave me a shoulder to cry on.

Dear celestial object,
Allow my wanderlust soul to rise to the stars
With hopes of finding comfort at night
Because I haven't been the same since finding out about the death of my best friend.

May you live on forever Fuquan Ford.
Annie 1d
Proudly standing, rigid trees
   Swaying gently in the breeze
We watch the shadows fall
   Switches whip, the twigs are severed
   Yet the mighty wood persevers
Awaiting its next call
   Day becomes night; sunshine ends
   Branches soon begin to bend
Raw bark peels in strips.
   Autumn comes; the trees must fight
   For each burning speck of light
Drudged from unwilling lips.
   We watch them quiver in the breeze
   The axe-man comes to fell the trees
The thinnest shall go first.
   Year by year, the seasons change
   We ignore the passing strange
Stiff bodies, in one hearse.
   No one knows if it shall end
   The loss of foe, alike with friend
Means sunlight for the living.
   “What shall happen to them all?”
   Still we watch the shadows fall
A gift that keeps on giving.
When you told me, I wanted to punch you the fuck out
I wanted to cry; to tear everything off the walls.
I wanted to climb out of my skin and watch someone else go through the pain.
The pain of loving someone too much, too soon and not being enough.

Wait, i'm not done yet.

When I thought of us. It was just us. No future. Just us.
And that, was the most beautiful idea I'd ever gotten stuck on. But you're gone.
That was hard to write.
You're a ghost.
I just had the most wonderful night of my life and you expect me to just leave?
You're a sick sadist.
Get help.

Wait! One more thing.

Why am I sat here in my favourite cafe. waiting for you?
Hoping you'll use your initiative to come back for me?
I want to see you casually stroll in, surprise me with flowers (which no one has ever done before.) and kiss me like you mean it.
Please pick me.

Pick me.
As I look outside through my window,
I hear birds singing,
I see the sky, surrounding us in a grey halo,
The sun already shining too close to the horizon.

This sight, although beautiful,
leaves an odd feeling to my  heart,
A dash of cold, like a sigh of sorrow from my soul.
Light dies quickly and moods drop,
leaving our days on a dark note.

The possibilities and opportunities of the past are gone,
And the chill of an unsure future is on the horizon.
I feel despondent, despair looking at that sky,
already place to a star, but it's so far...

Prey to numerous doubts and uncertainty,
I look down at the fields, haystacks gathering in the distance.
I see trees around, the fires of their shed leave glowing,
battling the shadows of the night.

A glimpse of hope finds me as I see little monsters in the street,
Running and laughing, knocking on doors for a treat.
I feel shivers on my arms and take a step back, closing my window.
Maybe this melancholy is unjustified,
perhaps the cold and the night, despite being unpleasant,
Are only there to be a reminder of the good days to come.
When i was fourteen
I learnt how to tie a rope
And practiced on a small string
until i could tie it with my eyes closed

i kept it in my pocket
i placed it in my bag
I played with it when i was lonely
and held it in my hands

Now i'm nineteen
I no longer remember how to tie a rope
But i still keep my small string
In the deep corner of my drawer
only words never actions
corpser 4d
Time and time again we delude ourselves into thinking we are in control.
The deluded mind is shattered when the only reality surfaces in the end:
It has been alone all along.
Always has
Always been.
corpser 4d
I couldnt draw
Or play the piano.
I feel as if these hands were of a butcher’s.
Fingers made to tear all that comes to touch.
Grip only suited for the blade.
I love you
But my darling
I fear touching you now.
Girl with the blue coat.
'Suicide,' they said.
The Friday of May. Now for sale: Blue coat, not worn since May.
Inspired by Hemingway’s Baby shoes six word story: For sale: baby shoes, never worn.
I love your room.
Because it smells like you
And it feels like coming home,
As I lay next to you, as you wake up,
As you smile at me.
With star lights on the ceiling,
Like a past lover's glow stars,
And a bed with a memory foam topper.

It's a little melancholy.
You awaken feelings which pang and pull,
A soreness from misuse, feelings full of
Memory of another.
And I am too old now to follow them through.

But I know, given time, I could love you
Perhaps even as I loved him.

But for now I'll just lay on your bed, on my own,
As I wait for you to come home,
And be happy that I met you.
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