A word that is the antonym of antonym -
Not far to be found - synonym.
Though synonym is an antonym to antonym,
Only synonym is a synonym to synonym.
Not unknown to us - being something to ourselves
Yet others will put us down
Maybe, someday, I’ll find my synonym.

Desolate
synonymous to:
Barren
Wasteland
Empty

Forgotten
Synonymous to:
My life
My existence
My happiness

Joyful:
The Antonym to:
My brain
my love
my head

Loved,
Something that I do not feel
Something that I don't remember the warmth of
Something I will never have

I don't write them anymore
I say I've lost my words
But in truth, they never left
Bubbling under the surface of my lips
Like sweet blisters of hope, confusion and rancor
I am really [only] a living dictionary
My thoughts like a river
My mouth like a hose
But you always say stop.
So they just sit, drying up
While I breathe through my nose.

"I saw
somet(h)ing
in you th(a)t
g(l)owed
in h(o)liness"

the transitory nature of
your touch

disconcerting emotions sustained
by memories that stick like dust

i can’t get enough of this-
whatever ‘this’ is

my mind harps on about
your warmth, presence, and kiss

your broken hands grasp mine,
my poisoned lips touch yours;

nothing more than a sad race
to see who succumbs first

to the secret silencing both of us:
subdued, i bite my tongue

‘love’s’ just a synonym for ‘guilt’
and guilt’s the only race that i have won.

How similar
we are
antonym is
turned into
the antidote
to the decaying
synonym.

There are only
two outcomes
out of this similarity;

burst of the sun
or a flower off the gun.

Burning―a hot blaze
In the manner of fire.
Flickering in the form
Of ignited passion,
It dwindles in the
Morning sky.

I admire the beauty
From afar, for if I gazed
Straight ahead into the
Magnificent light,
My sight shall be
No more.

Wandering, my thoughts
Haunted me day
And night.
What if the light was
No more
And the world lived
In eternal darkness?

Who would be to save
Our beloved
Skies from going
Utterly blank?

There must be a savior;
Someone with power
And courage willing
To set fire to the
Sun to
Save our souls from
Flickering away
With the
Winds of time.

Mountains are not our thing
For beings so small as we are.
But a handful of earth
Really, a pinch of it, our hands can handle.

If cherishing the fading photograph
Of your face and and it's frown
Be the last thing I do
Then I'd do it gladly and with all my might.