Let's consider our ending
A sunset
Something beautiful
Not simply sad and painful
Let's consider our ending
The sun going under
To find home once more
Someplace else in the world
Let's consider our ending
A new beginning
Regardless of if we need it
Or even want it
Let's consider our last goodbye
The opportunity for a new sun
To give birth to a new day
A new love, a new life
And let's consider our ending
The moon falling over us
Like a warm blanket
A lonely companion through the night
As we try and heal these soft wounds
And perhaps, if all is meant to be
We will meet again
And we can consider the sunset
Not the ending but a beginning

An orb of fire hanging by a thread
From the heavens, straining towards the earth
Some comet frozen distant in the past,
A captive bound in time’s eternal dance.
Its partner ever spinning, spinning,
A silent counterpart to fire’s rage.
The sun sets in a pool of melted gold.

It doesn't always have to be a sunset
Sometimes the sun just needs to come down

It doesn't always have to be chemical desire
Sometimes it's just two deaf, blind bodies

Colliding in the dark with no conclusion
It doesn't have to be logical

Sometimes you've gotta aim at the sun
With a steady finger on the trigger of the water gun

And pull

It's not always about success
In fact, it's never about success

They lit a million candles
Over the crash site of Icarus

And every good man has a corner of his heart
Devoted to the Sylvia's of this world

It doesn't always have to be a holiday
Sometimes screaming is enough

It doesn't always have to be an island retreat
Sometimes it's just an empty train carriage

To sit and read with trembling hands
Over an easy magazine

It doesn't always have to be difficult
Sometimes love feels like dying in your sleep

At others, it's your window reflection
In a strange new town

It doesn't always have to be a sunset
Sometimes colour is rinsed by cloud

It doesn't have to be poignant, or fair -
Sometimes the sun just needs to

Come down

I could’ve woken you up in the morning and could’ve been the sun that rises even when we both live in a place where it never does.
I could’ve taken you to museums, at least 2 of where I’ve been to. The first one, we’ll have to take the bus because I’d tell you that I’m too lazy to drive but for the second one, I will tell you that I’ll drive you there.
My car would look at me as though it knows that there is another soul seating in the passenger seat – it was no longer some books, a box of pizza, or my dog.
I could’ve taken photos of you in that place, post them everywhere but subtly so that they can see that there are at least 2 forms of art in that photo — the one you’re looking at and the one I’m looking at.
I could’ve talked to you at night under the stars, in the same rooftop where I told you that I liked the cathartic experience of doing just what we could’ve done; the same rooftop where you talked about your life, at least some pieces of it.
I could’ve brought you to where I used to study. We could’ve walked the halls that stared at me for being too alone and too lonely only so I could tell them, “Hey, here he is, finally.” and they could’ve smiled at me because they know how long the longing lasted.
We could’ve took a stroll in the shade of the trees or could’ve had a picnic there while watching the joggers and the sunset.
I could’ve introduced you to my friends – they’ve been meaning to meet you. They too know how long I’ve been stuck on an island by myself. They know who I was when I was eleven and when I was sixteen and I bet, if you gave them a chance, you could’ve heard the crazy things we did.
And maybe they could’ve liked you. They could’ve told me how lucky I was and probably would’ve warned me that if I hurt you, they’d stick with you instead of me.
I could’ve introduced you to my family — my mom liked you even then. I could’ve introduced you to my little brother who I would consider as the biggest and most important judge of character because I believe that children can sense goodness in people and he could’ve seen that in you.
I could’ve written you letters, could’ve left random little tokens I would've used for all the words I cannot muster to say.
I could’ve played the piano for you even if I just know, at most, 3 songs; even though I don’t really know how to read notes at all.
I could’ve introduced you to the artists I like and I could’ve known more of yours. I could’ve listened to them and I would have had to remember you every time.
I could’ve held your hand, could’ve eaten brunch with you, could’ve read you a poem.
I could’ve loved you — could have – if I was the given the chance.
But, I was and I could’ve used it but I didn’t.

the first night, it was you.
there was no sky, and it was nothing.
but your name brought me to the edge.

the next night, it was the sky and the stars.
i didn’t think about you.
i was under the sky and in the water.
it had begun to grow cold,
and i had started to shiver.
but i was alone in the water.
i could lay on my back and i could see the stars.

a day later, i couldn’t not think about you.
i’m addicted to you.
the water was a cool blue and i imagined that you’d come with me.
see, the walk was really really long.
but i’d have liked it more if i’d held your hand.
i think the water would have been
something
if you’d laughed as the spray hit our faces.

your name seems to be my edge.
the only reason i’m a bit normal is you.
part of the reason i love is you.
my thoughts hit walls,
push these boundaries.

they were so carefully set up,
but not for you.
you were what i didn’t consider.

i didn’t consider where your name made me go.
i didn’t know how consuming this was.
i didn’t know that every view made me wonder what i would feel,
what i would feel if you were there.