I'm so sick of being called cold.
I know.
I know.
I'm not like you.
Not anymore.
I know I'm distant.

But... I'm tired and empty
and I don't have the energy
to pretend anymore.

So go ahead,
Go ahead and call me a
Frigid *****
I did nothing to you but keep my distance,
But go ahead.

I know,
**I know I'm cold.

Life's a blank canvas and the artist's sometimes not you, but those who once came into you.

Some have sparks so blinding you almost forget the charred mess they made; some have hands so warm you couldn't resist memorising every contours of their palms that you almost would make a replica of them; some leave lines so intricate yet untraceable you wonder if they were supposed to be maps that lead to somewhere.

Learn to draw on your own and draw for your own. Paint all that is intangible and paint all that you that you could hold. Remember that no one could love you better than you do.

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

Don't call me crazy
You don't know what I've been through
Or how I feel
You don't acknowledge me
Nor my pain
You're not in my shoes
You don't see what I see

It hurt
It was painful
What you did to me

Why did it have to be this way?
Why didn't you just tell me the truth
I had a gut feeling
I knew what you did
And yet sometimes I wish I didn't findout

Maybe it was a good thing I did
Atleast she told me the truth
And now I am alone
And ashamed
You became the person I thought you'd never be

It hurts
So just don't

He watched and controlled,
A century later,
He got bored.
So he called his Capitalist friend,
"Make the poor more poor till they become extinct, and the rich more rich." Said the brother.
and the capitalist replied,
"We need them, the ***** poor ones."
"Why?" Asked the big brother
"Because I am slavery dressed in a modern outfit."

Every time I walk into the line I can only hope to run into you like I've  done before.
Your smile brightens up my day and
In your conversation I could forever stay.
Will you be my Starbucks lover?
We could grab some coffee and lattes,
talk about our lives and mistakes.

Cause I want to be the peppermint to your mocha, the pumpkin spice to your latte, the caramel to your macchiato.
We could compliment each other.
I just want your sweet company and I'll wait in line patiently.