Is love definite and true?
My anxious mind interrogates my heart for answers,
asking for evidence of feelings for you.

How do I know when to take it to the next stage?
My heart reads no definite chapter of certainty,
offers little advice of when it is right to turn the page.

How can I possibly know if you are the one?
I do not share your confidence,
I am willing to go the distance but I don't know if I can run.

Why does this always seem so easy to everyone but me?
Love at first sight does not seem possible,
I guess this is what it is like to be dating with anxiety.

I think about how the world was shaped and how it moved one day
in a way that brought us together that May.

I wonder what gods or spirits bonded over our coincidental meeting
and if they knew if this would be more than fleeting.

I think about the year we've spent laughing and crying and learning
in a way that keeps me returning —
every night back to you.

I wonder if we'll survive this next chapter within this lifetime
or if we're looking for just some insensible bliss in the meantime.

I know that I love you — that I know.
And I think and I wonder how you and I will grow.
And if there's a chance that we'll do it together
And if there's a reality where that means forever.

Would I be friends with myself?
Would it help my mental health?
Would he see me over there?
And give me some of his care?
Or leave like most often else?

Would he like the way I act
When I’m with my friends intact?
Would he see straight right through me
Extremely very quickly?
I give no eye contact, fact

Would he see I try too hard?
When thing are good, I discard
Would he think then it is weak
That I’m never at my peak?
Or would he mend my great shard

Would he catch me if I hide?
Even if there was no guide?
Would he know the words to say
When I do not want to play?
Or just walk and keep his pride?

Would I be friends with myself?
Would it help his mental health?
Would I know the thing to do
If his mind was turning blue?

Would I help him if he’s down?
Would I change his life around?
Or would I leave him alone
If he wants to be at home?

Would I let him win the game?
Or let Ego get the fame?
Would I take a stand against?
Or would I sit on the fence?

Would I help if he buckles?
Help him with all his troubles?
Or would I let him fall down
Cause the ego on my crown?

Would I be my classic self
As if I am with no one else?
Or would I fake my whole life
As I have done my whole life?

There’s gotta be something wrong with me
Where I fail to begin to see
Where you left and what’s in front of me
And how to keep walking when you’re gone
Pray, God, how do I go on?
I don’t want to go on
When kiss and hands held are shelved
Right next to my self-respect
View of me and you in kissing booths
That my mind cruelly projects
As I watch in horror
At things that keep saying goodbye
And yet they stay
And get their way
In my dismay, oh Lord, I cry
How do I go on?
Silence, darkness, no reply
Silence, darkness, no reply
Silence screaming thoughts, I try
Thoughts of only cloudy skies
No reply
You have dialed an incorrect number
Please hang up and try again
So we may test the other ways
Your faith in love can bend
I’m broken
As I found out 7 minutes ago the line was cut
The killer’s in the house, dear sir
I let her in, but now it’s shut
No hope for me in misery
I’m standing here, yet gone
These constants scenes in front of me
How do I go on?

You are not the cold seed you fear in your nightmares,
not a blind thought, caressing the cloak of the reaper.
As you have gazed at the trees at night, so too
have the creatures in the leaves gazed back at you.

‘We do not worship the dead’ they cried, laughing,
and an echo flows past you, barely heard.

Should you join the ranks of the spirits,
crying out your regret in a vain attempt to be heard?
‘You must rebel against yourself’ the creatures warn,
curious what you will do next.

You search for a soft spot within your own self, but
what is there to feel? The wind, the barrenness?

A searing nova of heat threatens to blind you.
Crackled light, followed by pillars of black static roses.
Nothing left now; nothing left to cling to…
but only if you can reach out, you will find a hand.

Well, a multitude of hands, rising from the ground,
covered in scales and pinions, and red as a crimson sunset.

Voices, screeching from beneath the ground,
telling you unbelievable tales of glory, honour,
asking you to grasp their hands and they would show you;
yes, they would show you the way to their own grave.

‘Then the choice is yours’ the creatures tell you now,
‘live or die. We are only eyes waiting for the sun’.

Choices… always a decision to burden you again,
but this is an easy one if you would look inside your mind.
Live or die, walk or fall, strength or tears. Fear is your enemy
in the end. The running ruin of scattered thoughts

Invest yourself in my sneer, if only for a little while.
Maybe you will fade away,  and truly know the scourge of living.

time.
what is it really?
is it really just a ticking of a clock,
an indication of the day?
is it really just a reminder,
something to be taken for granted?
does it move ever too quickly,
or too slowly?

what is time?
is it a sound telling us
when to start,
when to end?

no.

time is all of these,
yet none of these
all at once.

time is ever-changing,
it moves,
breathes,
flows like the wind.

time is a boat,
taking us in for a ride,
floating on, ever slowly,
on the water called life.

time is a conductor of music,
telling us when to start, when to end,
when to move more quickly,
when to start again.

time is a rare diamond,
every second as precious
as a single star
in the night sky.

time brings change.
it shows us, ever so slowly,
how to live life,
how quickly to move,
how much we change
over such a short period of it.

time is essential,
without it, where would we be?
we wouldn’t change,
we wouldn’t age,
we wouldn’t move faster, slower—
we wouldn’t be pressured,
we wouldn’t really be living.

so what is time?
it is all,
yet also none of these,

all at once.

When the sun sets will you be my moon?
Will you be my rainbow in the monsoon?
When I act childish will you bring me candy and balloon?
Will you help me open up to this world when I hide in a little cocoon?

When life seems to be weighing me down will you lift me up in your arms?
Will you help me calm down when my over-scrutinizer brain rings all the false alarms?
When I drown in misfortune will you be one of my lucky charms?

When you touch the petals of my soul will you cause them to blossom with care?
When I'm surrounded by the darkening dusk will you be a starburst of light with a glare?
When despair washes over me will you be the candle of hope which lights up with a flare?

When I crave your touch will you caress me with the fire of ecstasy?
When I feel insecure will you praise me like a piece of art in a gallery?
Will you hold me tight as we watch Augustus die and my eyes turn watery?
I'm sure your answer to all those questions is "YES" because having you in my life is nothing short of winning a lottery.

I didn't tell you I loved you
Because I thought that you already knew.
I never told you you meant the world to me
Because I thought it was clear to see.
Or maybe that's just the way I wanted it to be.
But now that you've gone away,
I asked myself if it's too late to tell you these things.
A voice answered back.
"It's never too late."