why would you smoke a cigarette
but leave half of it dropped onto the sidewalk?

“our cigarette butts leave signs,”
you told me,
“I threw it there to
let others know that
I can control my bad habits.”

this is who you are.
you’re the type of person
who leaves cigarette butts on concrete
to scream “I was here.”

you’re the type of person
who purposefully lives an unfinished life
for the world to wonder
what you would’ve done
if you had more time.

this was the same way you left me.
halfway through our dreams and goals,
only to find out that I loved you
wholeheartedly, obsessively, and recklessly,
while you walked away
with a mouthful of tobacco smoke
and halfway love.

Time.
I never have time.
I never have enough.
I'm running out.

I'm always rushing.
I'm always wasting.

Are you busy next weekend?
Are you doing anything right now?
Do you have time to grab a coffee?

I'm busy, sorry.
I don't have time.
Maybe another time?

I hate time.
No.
I hate society for time.
No.
I hate society for stealing mine.

i have always
lived in the past,
dragging around
this melancholy heart
looking for lost places
or past loves.
i guess i lost myself
a little too much
in you this time.

You were there
and then you weren't

you left so **** suddenly

I didn't miss you at first
i was sad you left

You haven't answered me for over a week
you're too busy for me now

i guess you found someone better
just like i said you would

Your presence ignites a spark
that you may not see
like a matchstick whose capable
of starting a fire in me

In your absence,
continues an ordinary day
until when you’re around do i display
a sense of enthusiasm
in the air
an energy only found
in your presence
when you are here.

sometimes i miss the touch of rain on my skin,
the water pouring down on my body,
soaking me to the bone.
sometimes i miss the feeling of calmness,
the racing thoughts in my mind
drowning into a peaceful quietness.
sometimes i miss the feeling of not knowing
where my tears begin and the rain stops,
basking in the sorrows i feel.
sometimes i miss being alright,
the depths of numbness,
the emptiness staring back quietly.
sometimes i miss the sun,
sometimes i miss the loud thoughts.
sometimes i miss the nights it rained for hours.
sometimes the soft sounds luring me back to sleep.
sometimes i miss the calmness i seek.

gone,
yet you linger
like a hollow cavity
in my chest.
i feel you
wrapped tight
around my ribcage
blooming
with every breath,
the sweetest lilacs
wrapping tight
like your body on mine
on clementine nights.

I'm often reminiscent of times,
When my grandpa used to
Take me out on his bicycle,
We were just roaming around
His tunes always left me spellbound.
But it was so pure
He was one of those people for whom
Money held no allure
He was a man of passion and music,
He was a poet
But I didn't know it
He gave, not just with his words
But also his soul,
Even when he didn't have much control.
I would always ask him for a candy
I remember once he even gave me a sip of brandy
He never said no to me asking for a toy
He often considered me his blue-eyed boy
He would stop all his work and writing
Just to play with me outside,
Whether clear skies or lightning
Now that he's no more
I miss him and the lessons he tried to instil within me
But more than that
I often miss that genuine connection
With someone who understood so much,
But still cared enough to smile and laugh along
The man with a golden touch
With him, I was happy as the day is long.
The world will be a much better place
If we all could learn to live our life
With his grace.