My chances became
equal to your frigid heart:
absolute zero.

The light had gone from this woman
Her days now became lonely and dark
She would go to the shoreline
To repair what had been torn apart
She would shout out to the shoreline
O please bring me a new light, a new moon
I am tired of feeling lonely and dark
Will you please bring it to me soon
Just like that the gilded clouds did part
to reveal to her a new moon
Time for this woman to have light again
Time for her to be swooned
This new moon was most welcoming
with his arms open wide
Lit up this beautiful woman again
and brought out the pearl we knew was inside

and when i leave you'll wonder why you stopped drinking coffee. you'll wonder why you've picked up a rather large pack of tea at the grocery store instead of what you're going to eat that week. you'll look around in an empty house and wonder why you're pantry is so full but you'll only eaten delivered pizza and the tea i left behind when i packed up and never looked back.

The midnight sky is dark;dark as a bottomless pit.
But I wonder if it would be as dark as that darkness that's been residing in my soul

I can hear the voices wispering in my head. I can hear them singing. Or are they screaming? I think I'd never know.

The knives are sharp. They cut holes in my heart. It bleeds everytime it beats. It hurts even when I'm asleep.

I feel the walls closing in. I know its only a matter of time before they crush my soul. I tried to stop them but who am I to have the power to do so?

I cannot breathe. The shadows of reality are smothering me. My lungs are filling up with black waters. I can feel my life fade away as I drown in sorrow.

There used to be light inside my eyes. They used to sparkle with hope. Now all I can see are two black souless holes when I look in the mirror.

"Will this ever end?", I wonder,"Will there ever be a way out?" Maybe the pain is the key to the door. Maybe this is a stepping stone. Or maybe this is how it's supposed to end.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because the last time I opened up to someone artistically they told me it was pretty dark and I should keep it to myself.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because I was raised in a culture that was anti love and pro meaningless ***. I saw endless commercials about movies that glamorize a lifestyle in which your body is fulfilled but your heart is ignored and at that impressionable age I learned my heart came second but my allure came first and the less I cared that happier I would be and I carried that belief around with me the way I used to carry around a Bible as a child.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because of the time that I opened my father’s phone to reveal a family secret I would hold to this day against my own moral instincts unraveling miles of insecurities wondering if I’m not a good enough daughter or if he stopped loving my mother or if true love was never real and although I had been taught marriage was my purpose, it was what I believed would make me happy, maybe rings aren’t enough to stay in love and maybe people’s feelings change and maybe no one actually has a “one true love” and that this purpose I had been taught was really an endless wild goose chase that only lead to broken families and lost souls.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because sometimes I still wonder why I fell into an abyss of toxicity at such a young age. And when I say wonder I don’t mean a trivial ponder, I mean I contemplate every possible reason why the person who I once believed held the universe in her eyes would lie to my face, why she never kissed me in public and our love was always a secret, why she valued girls with blue hair but my blonde hair was not good enough, why I had to hide bruises from my family when I was still in high school or more importantly, why at the time, I thought I deserved them. These thoughts, this lingering paranoia that I am undeserving of healthy love, they muddy my interpretations of real life and distort reality and effect my relationships. My doctor would call these intrusive thoughts, my best friend would tell me they’re symptoms of PTSD, but I have come to realize that I’ve been burned and I am damaged and I hope to god I can recover.

But you,
Oh god, you
You can write this poem. You can be my safety net while I’m free falling in love. You can be the one to listen to my mental tilt-a-whirls, you can be the one that introduces my body and my heart, you can be the one that calms the storms in my mind when I’m questioning the love I’m deserving of. You are the one who makes sure I fall asleep in my bed after drunk nights, you are the one that still sees my value after acknowledging my flaws.
You can write this poem.

Routine daily, lost inside completely
Burning flame, flowing like rain
Still night outside, filled emotions inside
I saw it, the MoonLight

Deep thoughts, thousand quotes
Soaring high above, heavy clouds move
Wandering sight, took flight
I saw it, the MoonLight

Keep this to me, or let the world see
How it feels, desire to love
Her heart, the pure secret
Yes, now I see it, the MoonLight


|AB|