Seemed as if we were both reading the same book.
I knew one of us would outpace the other.
..Most likely it would be me.
I guess I am too eager to see what unfolds on the next few pages.

But for whatever reason, and with no warning, you put your book down.
The rest of the pages in my book become empty.
Flipping back and forth doesn't help.
As soon as the pages start to tear I realize I have to put mine down now.

This isn't the first story I've found where the words just disappear.
No happy ending.
No ending at all..
Just another unfinished adventure...

books—
filled with bookmarks,
always line the shelves
of a dusty house...

It still hurts to see you
My heart crumbles when you appear
It's of utmost pessimum to need you
Wishing desperately to avoid the austere

But sometimes I catch myself pretending
Acting like we're not worlds apart
My well of hope seems never ending
Oh, if only we could restart

I would have done things differently
But there's no going back now
I'm trapped in this emotional debris
I want out, but I can't see how

We are stuck here in this void
In the space between dusk and dawn
Where all that was has been destroyed
Yet there's little chance of moving on

There's something left unfinished
A remnant of a promise of a dream
And though that future was diminished
I hold pieces of you in high esteem

I cannot let those pieces go
I cannot let them fade
Though they still hurt me so
I'm grateful a part of you has stayed

So here we are trapped inside
The space between dusk and dawn
This is the only place "us" can reside
I'll be here until the day it's gone..

Some stories are meant to be unfinished
Its not that I want this but;
It's better left untouched

It is not that of getting lost in the spirals of the wall, those patterns and faces, making shapes from basic dots and strange angles in places.
Imagination straining.
This is dissociation, it is no joke of wow that fan looks nice
But I really just lost my sense of self in this life.
The surrounding surfaces were not real even with my hands on it’s surface
Was this fire really burning, those candles melting?
All I see is glass burning, charred over black ash.
Tell me dear
Do you stand in doorways feeling dizzy because the reality is crumbling and that sense of smell does nothing
It lingers with this annoying sweetness
Yet the candles keep these levels grounded
It is looking in the mirror and not being able to recognize who is seen
Is that me breathing? Am I touching the sink, is my face so strange to look this way.
Some days feel normal and others I have no sense of taste
Imagine those sweet desserts no longer having flavor
We will cry at this frightened state, the world does no favors.
But here we are also aware that this is real despite how it feels, maybe I am magic
Sage my beloved hated name.
Who are you? Why don't you ask the world the same.

you can feel the love in his fingertips when he touches you
when his lips press against your skin
he never has to say it
he doesn't need to

a story with a beginning so
      ordinary
            unintentional
                  insignificant
we weren't lucky enough to be written a worthy end

i wish we had something to blame for what is missing
      immortality
            infinity
                  ­forever
but we have always taken the road less traveled

compiling to an unfinished tale violently bursting with
      but-what-ifs
            i-wish-i-hads
               ­   maybe-somedays
i will recite the idea of you until your finger prints vanish from my brain

you read me everything yet left me begging in vain for
      explanations
            truths
                  insig­hts
i wonder what beauty we could have created

This time of ours
Reminds me of all that I have
And all that I have lost at the same time,
The many-faced memories
Flow like tears
That come more easily
And unexpectedly now
Like the ghosts of loved ones
In a fever dream.