you were my muse,
the creative influence
in my poetries;
the inspiration
to my many
tales of heartbreaks,

a performer,
you sang the
songs of sorrow
that played in
my heart;
yet I found myself
singing along

your presence
is a unique form
of abstract art,
and I was the curator
that knew
your real value

I am no longer
a starving artist,
but even I had once
dreamed a dream
we'll be making
art together again
someday

all these items used
to describe my love
for you;
but I'm the one
treated like
an object
in this relationship

you told me
I smelled like butterflies;
perhaps they've escaped
from your stomach
and metamorphosed
into this fluttering feeling
you're having for me

With grief blackening
the corners of my heart
As long as I can
Spend time alone
Needing hours of sand
But I'm too connected to my phone
Life is strange
I could wait one more hour
To prove my well-being's far from sour

Flowers 🌺 💐 sit on the windowsill
just waiting to die inside themselves
trying to bloom and bud but how can they when I’m yours?

Words fade as the breeze sweeps through bringing scents of jasmine, lilies and lilacs.
I listen to the sincerity play and echo in the background as the summer sun hits the light just right. I see you in this perfect light and I forget about the 🌺 flowers and the seeping ☠️ poison keeping them alive.

As a man I let you inside and run and hide I could not it was only a matter of time before the flowers would die.
I knew the whole time I could never bloom for you.

I envy the dark
For its silence
Solemn solitudes
Me,
I don't know.

Every night
I'm scared
To close my eyes
To feel
The softness of my bed
I know
This is the begining
Of my misery.

As i close my eyes,
I feel them coming
The voices of evils
Whispering
Shouting
Clattering
Seeking holes
Where they can
Dig me deeper.

I'm searching
For my voice
"Help me" i murmur
A rattling voices came
Simultaneously
Louder
Stronger
And i don't know
Which voice is mine
Anymore.

Wigs, wigs, I wear wigs,
to hide the fact my hairline
thins. Love my merkins.