The young maiden,
with eyes the color of the green-blue sea,
porcelain skin,
and the face of an angel.

She had a hyacinth in her flaxen hair.
She is the hyacinth girl,
with beauty words can't describe,
and the grace of a princess.

Today somebody called me the hyacinth girl,
words nobody has ever said to me.
Glancing at the image in the mirror,
I didn't believe her words.

grotesque,
revolting,
and disappointing.
are all compliments that I have received generously.

hyacinths - however, I have never received.
"words with malicious intent, were never actually intended maliciously", they said.
they led me to believe,
that I could never be the hyacinth girl,
that I see deep inside of me.

The sights of blood red lipstick,
the click-clack of obscenely high heels,
and one too many sprays of eau de parfum.

are these covers?
ones that we put on,
to protect ourselves,
like on cold nights,
as we hide under the covers?

"monogamy or whatever you call it- i'm starting to think it ain't for everybody."*

with our hearts locked up in a far away land,
alas! we open our legs and our mouths.
not to the gifted and the loved,
but the exotic and peculiar.

lost in translation,
we believe that we become whole through experience.
in the back of our mind knowing,
we are more lost than ever.

inch by inch,
as we gnaw at genitalia,
to 'satisfy' our pangs.
we continually tear,
bits and pieces of our hearts,
pushing them into various blackholes,
in the abyss we call our mind.

in various beds, floors, couches, showers,
we bare our bodies naked.
in ritual,
we search for love and our hearts,
not realizing that it's at arms length.

You and Me.
Nothing lies in between,
but a pinch of fear,
and an ounce of hate.
Just a vague silhouette of two,
soft music in the background,
the two of us screaming,
and my neighbour complaining about the noise.

What led us towards one another?
Those are thoughts I will not fathom.
Engulfed in the nothingness of our emotions,
we lead one another into the darkness,
darkness inside our souls instead of the night.

We dance together,
but only when you'd like,
and not because we like to dance,
but because we have nobody else to dance with.

Then you leave,
and return as you'd like.
I welcome you with warm arms,
but a cold heart.
You may leave with a fond memory,
but you left me with nothing,
but the strand of hair in my bed.

Just another number,
another year,
an extra candle,
a cliche lit up cake.
When the clock strikes twelve,
born again, grateful, or reminiscing-
its yet another year,
an extra candle at the end of it,
and a cliche lit up cake.

Does anything come in between?
anything aside from monotony?
Have faith on fate.

we take snaps,
and freeze time.

snaps in context,
fit into the puzzle of our memory.

rods and cones,
turn into smiles and tears.

the frozen images,
bring back joys and fears.

i thawed those frozen images,
but a year ago.

i let them slip away,
and become part of the wind.

engraved in my mind,
adamant to move an inch.

no rods or cones,
you're still turning my smiles into tears.

if you're a luxury i allow myself,
am i addicted to you?
if you occasionally make me feel everything- yet nothing,
do i know if you're what i need?
if i wanna take in all of you and release,
would you always be there when i want you?

Pearls of perspiration form at the tip of my forehead
As I lay feeling lethargy build up in my veins
Frozen, as the sun awakens on a brilliant summer day

The ill and the sorrowful
I do believe I am part of
But nay! I refuse to collectively believe
I am no longer filled with zeal
That my bones carry no extraordinary strength
That my soul does not want to further feel

Love, passion and absolution
The things that give us hope
To show that the ill and sorrowful are not dead yet

block.
block by block.
blocks stacked.
block over block.

stress strengthens blocks.
shivers brings blocks.
serenity breaks blocks.

why are there still blocks?

the best you saw before,
is far from the best you see now.
living in this world,
you see yourself as the wilting bud.
creeping out of your skin,
as you wither and waste away.
understanding nothing,
ingesting all day.
inside we lay,
as we walk the earth everyday.
with a tinge of wonder,
buried under thoughts that refuse to give away.
only broken mirrors,
show images that don't fade away.
we see that,
the best then,
and the best now,
is far from the same.

Pain - the opposite of happiness,
yet they have never been able to identify themselves as separate entities.
Pain and happiness,
best friends with their paths aligned for a lifetime.
Yet, what best explains the relationship between love and people best.
Pain is inevitable.
Alas, the gifted, the extraordinary,
they spend lifetimes lurking,
creeping up on pain,
wondering if its ready to accept them,
and hold them captive forever.

all those times,
when you'd scream my name out,
to get me into your office.
I never thought I would miss the stress.

all those times,
when you'd lecture me,
and tell me not to work too hard and maybe play a little.
Words nobody would ever say so blatantly to me.

all those times,
when you pushed me to my limit,
showed me that I was stronger than I thought.
Nobody would've put in that much effort to make me a better person.

All those times,
I will hold on to 'those times' forever.
You've been way too good to me,
and I can't even give you a big ole hug.
Know that I shall always wish you the best that life can offer,
even though I can't tell you to your face.