Ding! . . . Ding! . . .
A man locks eyes with an artificial light
that shows a world clouded in darkness. Gleaming with empty words and false promises, the light is shut.
“Not now,” he says, as he drifts of into the night.

Ding! . . . Ding! . . .
The man springs from his bed, chasing the light.
Yet his calloused hands go stiff—
he backs away with a shake of the head.
“I’m not ready,” he says, as he eyeballs a dusky mirror reflecting on days that have long gone.

Ding! . . . Ding! . . .
This time, he merely acknowledged the light—
the light that enamored him once, maybe twice.
Yet this time, he simply glanced
as it died in the twilight.
“Why bother?” he says, as he dreams of days that once were.

How do you come to accept
What you thought was the sun
Was really just a distant flame?
The warmth you felt
The light you saw
Wasn't real
Had you even felt warmth to begin with?
Seen light to come to such a conclusion?

I'd always used to prance in that light
Waltz and lay in its warmth
But when I realised it wasn't what I wanted
It wouldn't satisfy me like it used to

What is it like to stand in the sun's rays?
Have it pierce the deepest core of your heart?
Would the world around you need to change?
Or would you need to be out of it...

Floating, sinking
Reaching, receding
Closing my eyes
Wishing for
The warmth of the Sun
To reach the depths of my heart and
Emit a glow from within

he runs and runs
away from invisible enemies,
settles for a wide street corner eventually
enters heavily gasping a small café.

the abdominals are ripped from all the coughing.
the swiftly waitress realizes that,
as he orders a cup of black coffee.
she asks him, if it was a fine sporting day,
with a wide, plainly sinister smirk.

confused as he was, he gives her an absent nod,
in hope to leave him alone and serve that **** coffee.
at least he found an excellent spot
covered on a stakeout for his own death.

the street on the left, called Void Street,
seems pretty occupied
but shows no sign of the ambitious hitmen.
on his right lies Paradise Avenue,
emptied and distilled of silence

still nervous he bites his fingers,
although no nails are attached to them anymore
so he ***** the angst dry
like a skint man does with the tip of his last wrinkled cigarette,
that he found in one of his forgotten jacket pockets

safe space now,
he reckons,
only to have his throat cut

Sunday mornings we would make breakfast together.
I always burned the bacon a little bit too much for your taste
Or overcooked the eggs
And sometimes we wouldn't eat at all
We'd stay in bed and sleep until one of us had to go

I'd wake up to small strips of light firing through your brightened blinds
And hear you singing somewhere near
And every morning you would sing
And it would wake me from my frozen trance with a warm smile
And sometimes even lull me back to sleep to much more soothing dreams

But one day you stopped singing
And your songs became more and more rare
Beaten into a gentle hum that could only be heard from the same room

And then you stopped humming
You'd get this quiet sadness in your eyes and while I'd try to help
Or alleviate it in anyway I could
It would linger like the ghost of a parent

I'll miss the morning tunes the most I think
But maybe I was right about one thing in all of this
Maybe things are better this way

But darling, do I miss the ******* music from your soul
And I hope one day
You find your song again
And someone
Or some situation
That makes you sing every morning
To greet the sun as warmly as it will you.

My tongue trips when you’re near,
My chest tightens when you sigh,
You hold my heart in your hands,
As we tip toe this fine line,

Of passion and friendship,
Venturing through life,
Close and afar,
Separate but one,

I long to tangle my fingers in your hair,
As we coexist with time,
At our most relaxed point,
Sense of self left outside,

To caress your face,
With a kiss,
Full of care,
Innocence,

To entwine our fingers,
Through our arts,
Encourage,
Lift up,

Spread our wings,
Thrive,
Through the pain and the hurt,

Feel confident,
One is blessed,
And not cursed,

For you are so,
Full of love,
Full of worth.