You know, it's been rough.
I lost my girl, my job, my car
And I never was enough.

My refuge is gone and my heart remains yearning
But after all this time I'm still just learning
I just wish you didn't have to be a life lesson

There are two lives in my head
One is still with you
The other is dead.

i sit by the window watching the sun
go down into the horizon, tasting his tongue
on my breath, sweet and sickening like
fruit pastilles or a persimmon, homelike

it reminds me of my future with him
it reminds me of my past without him
all those years wasted not knowing
my love would meet me in that

dead end old school, where hate is bred
and stupidity is taught in what students read
they don’t know anything about life
about love, religion, repentance, longing

for his eyes, his speckled face glistening
in the late-afternoon sunlight listening
to my ramblings about this or that
sometimes his finger pit-pats

on the desk where i first found myself
a sea of endless pain and anguish rescued
by my foolish love, another pointless beckoning
quenched by lack of reckoning

i sit by my window
waiting for him

my love for you was unconditional.
your name engraved itself in my heart,
embedded itself into my soul.
loving you came naturally,
as if I were made solely to love you.

but you
you had your terms and conditions.
you would love me
so long as it was easy.
your heart never ached for my warmth.
and when the time came,
you let go
without hesitation.

for you,
I would have always tried.
always fought for us.
always stayed.

for me,
you had your limits
and I exceeded
your terms and conditions.

In the third of the night that sent by fate
a fate never meant for me.
As you burn, I freeze,
shrouded in the blizzard of silence,
witnessing your lightning-quick decision.

Makes me stand in the heart of winter,
with void dwelling deep in my senses and breath,
I turn myself into a monument of lament and sorrow,
powerless, violated by the shadow of your touch.

Perhaps I seem calm and unshakable,
but my blood boils, giving birth to a disaster
a tornado of crimson rising in my chest,
spinning without direction, wild and untamed.

If only I had not severed these hands,
for whenever I crave to reach for you,
it would turn me into ruins of darkness,
covered in dust, with shadows nesting in the hollows of my ribcage.

Yet behind it all, a flicker still lingers.
Even if I keep severing my hands,
your warmth, your beauty will always be
the cascade of light I yearn for.
And if I rust away, this monument will stand,
a testament to your grace.

I yearn for something long gone in the depths of the future;
Not able to place a finger on its familiarity.

Discovering what is already known
Can be a clarifying process of redundancy.

When a step forward feels like a tumble backward
Toward the inevitable direction of it all.

When a puzzle forms around me
I stand there, inert.

The challenge beckons me further. It calls me closer,
Etching itself deeper into my path.

Smiling at the fantasy of completion on the other side,
A field of emotional mishaps rains down before me.

It's subtle, but impossible to ignore;
The way a room changes with your presence.
The way our eyes continually search to steal another quarter second glance - you could say we are both in a trance.
Peering out corners of eyes, just to watch the other.
Nerves that make the body ache, invoking thoughts to make the heart flutter.

In downtime my mind traces lines
around the places I might find
Your existence in my life.

Is it just me, pondering the thought?
Am I the only one with feelings being caught?
Am I scheming again, to find out more, when in reality all is naught?

it started with stolen glances
where i allowed myself to dominate— fill it with the soul of you,
it was as if the moment have been familiar of us, that i started to pour myself for it taught me it was souly for us;
quite an illicit that i learn to flow in a disturbant waves— silent, in an absence of colors

and you drowned me with black and greys in hope i could grasp meanings

why do i hope in this absent lighting i’m in
clear as it is it’s empty
like an absence of torches
and maybe i still hope of something you never give,

in a place like this, i still hope of you
and what could‘ve been

if it’s us.