We lay on our beds facing each other
Millions of miles apart

“It hurts.” She says, a tear slipping down the bridge of her nose and trailing against the seams of her other eye before finally landing on her pillow.

thud

“I know.” I reply.

And I turn away from her.

I can't quite decide how to start this.
To start moving on from this.
You have wrecked the corridors of my dreams of you.
Not by choice I should say.
So I made an incarnation of you out of:
the blossom of cherry trees,
the light of purple sunsets,
the crooked cathedral smiles in your laugh,
and the great green ponds to make your eyes.
So full of life and decay.
Your skull I found along the path;
inside your cracked motorbike helmet.
You'd forget it, if weren’t for me.
Your skin I took from the sheets of your favourite bed.
Soft and white, they wrapped the old statue of you.
I filled the marble with lemonade and blood.
From a dead deer,
and glued it together with sap,
struck down from a tree by thunderbolt last night.
It bound the objects to your made-up soul,
though pretty it was still so very sore.
It flickered its eyes,
but alas I forgot to make your hair,
So I took the form from a frozen ocean wave,
caught in a breeze.
I placed it on your head where a crown should be.
I lost your old one, its thorns now broken off and rusty.
You stood naked and alive before me.
An image I longed to see from all those memories,
I had of you.
Oh say that you can see,
my true love had finally come to me.
But I didn't need it.
I've lied to you and I created you purely so you could be taken away.
With that I pushed you away.
You looked at me with that dead frozen smile.
Your eyes gushed with sewage and rotten chemicals.
Your skin, teardrop stricken, began to rip at the seams.
The collection of bones began to snap and bend.
The blossom tree aged and became dust under the weight.
The light of the sunsets that made your soul now snuffed out.
The whimpering creatures in the shadows, reclaimed their prize.
My stupid self had been born from sadness,
so sadness it became.
But my drive for release,
killed myself and my friend.
So I made My creation become destruction
so happiness I became to thee.
An that dear reader was the end of me.

I have to sit quiet,

Wait for the wind

To blow away my tears before they fall.

I have to keep watch

On what I say, what I think.

Even in my sleep, I can’t betray myself.

Gulp each cry, each word I speak,

To be dropped off on a paper no one reads.

Everyone wants a rock to hold onto.

A quick mire, no one needs.

For what do I owe

This heartbreaking happiness?

This eternal river of tears?

For my love, my ego and my fears.

Who can I turn to?

Who can I blame?

For these sad affairs and my sorry state.

My story is better unwritten.

My sorrows untold.

People are fed up of giving sympathies after all.

Bound by the choices, by free will, I made.

I do not have the liberty to complain.

i’ve been thinking about
how to fill this
blank space,
to fill this
missing piece,
to fill this
hole in my soul
in my heart,
to fill this
tear in my heart
to finally mend this poor soul

but,
how can i feel these spaces
these empty holes
these emptiness in my
heart
if you,
your face,
your eyes,
your lips,
your smile,
your back,
your laugh,
the softness of your hair
and the cold spot beside me
in the bed
are the only thing i can
think about?