There will come a time when the night air
won’t send chills down my spine
for it will no longer whisper your name.

I will stop telling stories about you,
for the moon has grew tired of hearing them
and weariness is an awful thing to feel.

The stars would appear
brighter than your eyes,
and I would hear lullabies again.

The winds would be warm,
the seas won’t crash waves,
and I will no longer drown.

Let's fall off
the edge of the page,
sail beyond the visible line,
leap from the end of the ledge,
sink into the ocean,
then sink deeper beyond.

Let's slip away
from the rim of the cup,
slide along the edges of ice,
tumble into blades,
roll with the flowers,
soar beyond the reach of the sky.

Let's find parts of ourselves,
nobody sees, hears or thinks,
burrow deeper into a new skin,
move away from what has been,
crawl into a place, so far away,
the past will never come around.

It's the end of the week that catches me feeling the most numb.
Unable to sleep but barely walking.
Unable to eat but hungry.
Wanting love but distant
Eyes wide open but drugged like dreaming.
The only thing that I could grant
Is that I can't explain any of this feeling
It's a Saturday night that makes me the loneliest .
Laying in bed seems like the safest it could get
But staring at an empty wall just seems fake
But I stay with opinionated thoughts running through my head.
Thinking that staring at the night sky would be great
A Sunday evening is when reality catches up to me
But even if my responsibilities is all I see there's still more thoughts behind my mind's tree.
I've counted weeks and months and I've just been the same.
And honestly a change scares my heart
I'll rather be looking for my lost pieces than lose another part.