Death does not exist as some distant relative
but rather it remains relevant
as a constant reminder
that without death she cannot live
you will never find her
for herself, to death, she did give
do not call out her name
or try to hold on
she left her body through the pain
she's already gone
now she exists as life itself
not as a concept within her mind
or as a body trapped in time
but as the flow of silence
between echoes of distractions
as one slowly slips through tiredness
towards the light refractions
that's where she'll be
as she waits for me
in eternity.

I have a box
of socks
but singles
not pairs
who cares?
- for the lost and lonely
I do
I kept you
close to heart
in a box
my socks
I wore you once
or twice
or more
before
you saw
the light
no more.
I tried to pair
you off
at what cost
to end up in a drawer.
I swore
I still cared
for singles
as well as pairs
but in a box
my socks
remain
the lost
the slain
some souls
have holes
that can't
be darned
once love
is lost
and spurned
we hide
our hearts
inside
a box
like socks
discarded.
For who cares
for socks
without pairs?
I do.

I am a black dot on a piece of paper
a single mark within the infinite
you have already erased her
all that’s left is sin and dirt
this skin does hurt
the pain is real
it’s a slow boring
that’s reduced me to kneel
my words are boring
but I continue to write still
maybe I will find the answers
somewhere between the lines
if only I could have asked her
instead, we only drew knives
to cut away at each other’s flesh
to reveal the emptiness inside
now her surname is death
and I’ve run out of places to hide
so slip your ring upon my finger
let my breath taste like winter
for I am just a black dot
a single mark
what you forgot
left in the dark
a tired writer
she had all the strength
I am nothing like her
I can’t even repent
I know I was meant to learn
from all my mistakes
but all I do is burn
amidst all that is fake
I can’t change the world
I couldn’t even change her heart
just a stupid boy that loved a girl
now a black dot a single mark.