How do you **** a life?

But you do it so well
what expertise in
elegies
the choices
tone, words

you mourn too
sweet little nothings
pitiful stare
buttery
and nice
share a piece of cake
so sugary

and cherry on top
all the facts,
I deleted from my mind
restored back
It is the rush of feelings
too many at the same time

You have squeezed my
Soul out
I am empty
Inside out,
executed in precision
I can never mend
my pieces back.

I am short of breath,
You did it so well,
or am I short of me?

As I look through my past poetries
I've already felt the feelings I am feeling now
Like on repeat stream, I stream through it again
I will capture it once again,
Like a treasured entity.

The paper will be heavily inked
with an account of watery blotches
My eyes heavily rained
it makes an unforgettable picture,
the state of my heart,
the same as this half torn paper.

All that was August
Breezed through just like
                  Wind gust.

a million pieces
  it is how my dreams have become
little by little
  every little break a little
multiply and increase

By next month
  I'd be counting the billionth one
the reality is too real
  I see nothing ticks my list
and I am slowly learning to accept
  I am getting there

Now the darkness took over
  The dreams I see in the night
My back of eyelids
  grant me the solace
From the daily torture of day ones

Sometimes I see a face
  who know how to sew those pieces
it is better I stay clear
  These broken pieces would make a beautiful mosaic
  But any tear ahead will be the sudden death,
I'd be too distorted for any new wreck.