This is the worst feeling
to be drowning on something
that's not there.
Becoming the empty shell
of a fool who had fallen in love
with the thought of loving someone
instead of the action of doing so.

And you never know how much
it hurts to love someone
when they finally let you go.
And you never know how much
more it hurts to know
that you already had a chance
of doing so.

I know there’s a
storm inside of you,
a rainstorm over the sea.
Every time you cry out,
a flood drowns you in,
and you can’t seem to see me.

—when all you want is for
me to save you.

This is why we burn and we fade
because we are mere gasoline
attracted to flames.

It's not as if we've never been here before.
We always fell to rock bottom, and we've always hurt now and then.
But I guess, with each new experience, I've come to learn a lot of things. That, yes, maybe it hurt to be here down with you.

That maybe falling down was always the price to pay.

But who said falling in love never even hurt?

I guess we’re a bit distant now
And somehow, it weirds me out
We’re not so usually far apart
But now you’re filling me with doubt

I find the red string that binds us
slowly fades into a shade
Because we don’t seem to find a path
to make the both of us stay

And I guess I’m lonely now
maybe too hard to be found
I’m a plane flying to nowhere,
searching for solid ground
I’m a missing puzzle piece,
crying underneath the couch
I can see you piece others,
but you can’t seem to find me out.

I’m lonely underneath the sky,
wandering with no goal in mind
imagining laughter in the air
hoping I haven’t left you behind.

I hope of many things that I know
I didn’t want to happen or do
But I’m crying because I know now
I will never be this close to you.

And I guess I’m lonely now
maybe too hard to be found
I’m a plane flying to nowhere,
searching for solid ground
I’m a missing puzzle piece,
crying underneath the couch
I can see you piece others,
but you can’t seem to find me out.

You pushed me far away because I couldn't understand.
I didn't even know what was happening, but you assumed right away,
that I was a clueless person, that I was nothing less but a mere speck of dust. Though you may oppose in the near future, that's what you made me feel like.

But the distance you gave me, it was unlike the rest. Because I saw how you changed, how your skin morphed and how your thoughts worked. And though distance is painful, I'm much more glad in seeing the bigger picture. That no matter how much you changed, I still love the way you are.

Still love the way you hurt me.

For days, foliage sat by my porch
which I've been waiting to sweep.
But the wind always seems to know what I want.
It always does the work for me.
I've planned on sitting on the couch with you
but you don't seem to sit there anymore,
only the wind does. Only my own air.

I've been accustomed to making two coffees in the morning.
But your full coffee cup always sits there until it's cold
and I always take too much to drink, that I just throw away yours.
It's a waste that even I am accustomed to bringing two plates with me to dinner when no on sits on the other seat beside me.
It is still the air that sits there.

I feel so lonely, that I talk to myself about the things that have happened; of things that never did,
just to hear you respond.
To tell me it was all a lie.
And you never answer me. Only the air does.
Only the wind blows me away.

For days, foliage sat by my porch
which I've been waiting to sweep.
But the wind has been always there,
where you should've been.
And I laugh, because it's unnatural now.
To be conforming to something that isn't even there.

I remember your smile,
how it caught mine so eagerly.
Having your fingers latch my heart,
just to make me look silly.

But we were so young back then,
I've yet to learn healing now.
But the imprint of your love burnt me,
and I still have yet to know how.

But I still can't seem to hate you,
nor forget who you really are.
Because you've made me feel like burning matches,
and I still have yet to light the dark.

We’re midnight wanderers together.
The moonlight loves us, just as we love each other.
We stay by the gas station, watching people flick cigarettes and smoke dangerously close, but we never stray from the possibility of burning. Never when we’re in each other’s embrace.

And we felt infinite back there, at the gas station, seeing cars zoom past us, feeling the lonely night creep back. Seeing the stars above us go into motion. Feeling the emptiness that receives no bottom as we drown in each other’s running time.

And our eyes capture each other. And the human is captured. Just in each other’s sight. The ghastly existence of each other, acknowledging  we are mere immortals inside rotting bodies, and we knew we could feel it. The humanity that seeped into our bones, and the melancholy and sadness, and the ephemeral happiness, and the days of lodging and the emotion that fuelled our existence. In the gas station, fuelling cars.

We were aware of how limited our time was, and the feelings that replaced our fervour to chase after time. The blunders that caused our reckless fate. Our emotions that finally destroyed us.

And we stayed that way in the gas station, waiting to be burned into ashes. We accepted our bottomless dark emotions, platonic yet deadly, because that was the way it was. We fell in love with each other's humanity, one that needed to be let out near the gas station, just in case we burned ourselves.

We’re not so different,
you and I.
Even in the way
we say our last goodbye.
Provoked by hurt that still
makes us cry.
It doesn’t matter since
it was all a lie.

You write tragedies as if your world was built on them.
You describe it like shattered glass pieces, each jagged and broken,
yet each crystallised  like ice, shining beautifully on their own. All a part of a whole.

It’s so beautiful, when you describe the heartbreak. It’s beautiful, the way you cry. It’s beautiful when you say the world is an illusion. You’re beautiful when you say you destroy yourself. You’re a beautiful
sad mess each time.

And I can only wonder how terrible it is in your mind;
the way you destroy yourself. Because you’re beautiful
enough and I don’t know how the world can treat you this way;
how you can do so yourself.

You know, it rains in September.
It also rains in October.
On November.
During December.

It always rains, and rains,
and the sky is crying, because I may
be naming months, but it feels like years to me,
sitting here without you.

Even if her soul was as dark as an explosion of ash, or the darkest shine of an obsidian from the embers of liquid flames. There is still a universe I am searching within her, and she's slowly burning me, and I am fine with that.

Or maybe, the only star I find within her was the sun, and I am one of the planets she's going to slowly destroy.  I would've been fine if I had not known what love was. Content with the distance between us, which was a sea of galaxies only shooting stars seemed to cross.

I was given wings of wax to cross that pain, and to stick her back to the sky once more, to see that sun one more time. Even if I had been falling once--or more than a million times--just for the sake of one person. My wings would've been nothing more, if I had not met her to see her back in the sky. Even if it was to say our last goodbye.

I found solace in the darkness
that has robbed me of my freedom.
The darkness that feeds off of me
when I am nowhere near light.

It dictates my inner most fears of
lingering in the shadows of my own being,
yet lighting a path to my incendiary fate
that I know I can suffer for eternities in
the hellfire of my mind.

But the rain rocks my windows, and thunder claps
against my ear like a game in our room of heaven and hell.
It rattles my inner most being, and the strings that
tie me to my friends and family sever themselves
in the fall of twilight. From that, I know,
darkness has robbed me once again of light.

It’s a bitter fate I had the opportunity to accept;
darkness was then a conformity that I lived with.
My place of dwelling. And from letting this darkness
inhabit me for so long, I have come to love it. I have come
to live with it, for without darkness, light will be no more.
I have learned to love such a feared part of me. A loathed
part of me. I’ve seemed to forgotten it even existed along with me.

Darkness was but another part of me that couldn’t exist without
the light. I was given a chance to live in this world, and I would live. I will live. But life comes before death, and tragedy comes in the middle of our peace. Darkness is just but one of them I have come to accept.

We're all new endings and beginnings,
raised as paramours to our rips and tears.
We swayed like Wordworth's Daffodils,
and we all cried out in the air.

We're faded pictures in an infinity
told to believe in the death of our lives.
But we were never taught how to live
in this world filled with beautiful lies.

So there was no foreground to build upon,
but we were given the chance to survive.
Even when we all can't dance to live,
we can make music to battle the anguished cries.

We are all so weak.
Soft. Tender. Transparent.
So easily scarred.

We take things. Break things.
Hurt people. Hurt those we love.

We swallow the shards of
fragmented words. We all hurt ourselves
when given the chance.

But it all wasn't for the attention.
It is the spiral to our breaking point.

But we are so weak.
Soft. Tender. Transparent.
So easily scarred.

We never seem to get enough.

They came before dawn,
and took us from our cribs.
But we ran and ran from
our place full of woes,
riding until the next tomorrow.
Ghosts running to the horizon.

But we were transparent in the light,
even as we held hands.
I didn’t want to be a ghost on the run.
I don’t want to feel like the things I could hold
are far away and nothing but a mist.
I don’t want to feel like our love is nothing but air.
A ripple in time that fades away.

I want to meet your lips.
I want to hold your hands.
I want to hug you when I see you.
But I’m a ghost in the horizon,
drowning in the sea.

I see you, but you can’t see me.

I believed that love existed
in many different forms.
Like letters with tear stains,
and texts lighting up a dorm.

That love is like water,
that it can be someone in your arms,
that it can slip through your fingers,
without your phone ringing in alarm.

And I believe that love does exist,
if you perceive it to be true.
Even if you don’t see it there,
it is right next to you.

Blood boils over the chalice
in an insurmountable quantity,
pouring straight through the cracks,
spilling on the concrete and it stays,
dried like the Sahara, waiting for it to be scraped
off into non-existence

But it's torment to stare,
to remember the flitting thoughts
that refrain the calm to get back

Adamant to get over our Achilles heel,
striking the bruised flesh over and over
on a wall in detriment of our anger
Persistent to stand still on its feet,
to knock us over and over again

A breathing torso, has a defended chest
Guards are held up around the beast
Confined in a cage that turns brittle to
the eternities that pass by, and it crumbles

We crumble.
It's torment to think about it and not
to let it in.

I don't know what to do.
The lines of memories
both sad, happy
a momentary stun of a supernova
blinding me with a light
so dark
so dim
the moment of peace
turns into a fight

They say my name
an echo of a wind
a fading star
forever pulverized into dust
exploding but not returning evermore.

My name.
My name.
It's in the dark, and it stays there.

her fingers are numb
thinking of touching him
not because of how cold he was to her,
but because the warmth was never for them
in the first place.

There are words that can't reach me from here
If you simply pluck them from there.

I need to know a person like you exists,
not about what other people say,
not about what you do in order to be like them,
not like losing the one thing you can't have back
in order to become higher than me, not about
breaking yourself for others because you simply
can't fix them.

Once in awhile, someone needs you to be you,
and sometimes, I have to be me to be me.

Let someone know you can be yourself, and it will all be fine. And being fine, is simply alright.

They say we're both
heading down to hell
and that, nothing will change that.

But from what I remember,
it has always been hell for
the both of us,
which is why,
nothing will change,
and we're not moving from where
we are.

I hung pictures on the wall
The faces frowned at me
not because I hung them
by their frames
But because I nailed them there
instead.

You can't take a piece of me
a part of me
under your detriment and your touch

You shouldn't touch me when
I am in self-destruct

But I can't blame you
for stealing what was part

of  shattered pieces
of an unglued heart.

Small ticks whisper from the ***** of my fingers
Words echo into my head
My chest feels as heavy as a padlock
Now, black circles have replaced red

There's an emptiness in between
not from where I pass you by in our frames
It is somewhere that lies in your eyes
where there are other faces I cannot name

I am confused, afraid
I'm scared of your touch
Your voice is a noise so far
But without it is even too much

So I didn't want to hurt myself
I didn't want to push you away
But I'm afraid we're too much lost
In where we all wanted to stay

If only words could reach down
below the skin, I could be the one you hear.

But of course, you can't hear anything
when I'm covering your ears.

Buried in the snow,
red like an apple in harvest
losing her warmth to the cold
beauty in her eyes that reflect kind

And oh, what an arrogant man
selfish man
condescending man
clueless man
naive man
ignorant man
who is amused by her beauty

Amused by her kind
amused by her ignorance
amused by her naivety
amused by her carelessness
amused by her, he's amused

And her heart was devoted
but swayed by this man
The man she had loved, was forgotten in a blind moment
And this arrogant man
whose hands have been stained by many others,
laid on her

And she's in the snow, red like an apple,
losing her warmth to the cold of the white blankets
In Moscow's piling ice
that glows on her skin

Her lips grow cold, her lashes collect ice
the warmth is gone, and a beautiful pearl now
lays buried beneath the ground

Why is it, that when I am with you, I feel like nothing?
Why is it that I feel bare to the flame that you resonate?
Like tongues of fire that  lapped at my flesh and burnt me red and painted me black, like ashes of firewood and embers of dying flames, illuminating the dark.

Why do you hurt me so?
Tell me, for I am not complaining.
I'm letting your hurt me, because if there is a reason, I'll gladly accept it. If you have a reason for lighting a flame on chest, free me and we can both fly away like windeswept flowers wilting in the fall; snow raining down on naked branches and frozen shrubberies.

Burn me, for I have been the one to light you.

With you, I feel like I have a meaning.

Burn me, so you can grow brighter.

There are no coherent words escaping your lips
Your eyes pry mine open for me to see and listen
Your neck strains against your collar to choke out the words
I only wanted to hear what I wanted, versus what you said

Your chest rises in a motion too fast, I stumble
You cry because of the words I refused to accept
You plead with me to come to terms to the truth you mouth to me
But I refuse, because my fingers covered your mouth instead.

There are monsters that live to ****
Some whose rolls they cannot fill
But faces do not look the same
Just like monsters with different names

But don’t confuse a hero with a sword
Swords are weapons they can only afford
And don’t confuse monsters with blood
They’re only people deprived of love

So don’t laugh when you don’t know their pain
Don’t talk or they’ll think you’re insane
You live for people you want to protect
And there are people who live to see you dead.

It was slow and sudden, and I was stuck in space when you slowly tucked your hair behind your ears. I stared for too long, my eyes shooting holes into your fingers, into your shadowed skin, into your tear stained lashes, and into your quiet lips.

You were beautiful, your smile says it all.

Your eyes says it all.

And when you looked up and your eyes met mine, I looked away. I heard your laugh escape those closed lips, and in this time of a battling silence, I was internally screaming and crying, shouting and smiling. I was sad and happy, and you were making me that way.

You didn't know.

"What are you looking at?" I heard you say, and that voice. There is no other voice like that in the world.

"Nothing," I answered.

Everything. That's what I'm supposed to say.

And you didn't know, and it was better that way.

It is at times like this, below the haunting sky full of tears and sorrow, and the umbrella that once held your shadow, that I remember the stars were not gone in the sky, but in your eyes twinkling like the puddles beneath our feet; full of regret that I had not brought the umbrella today.

Oh, she's crying again.

She stutters.
Because there are too many words to say.

She hick-ups.
Because the words were hard to swallow.

She heaves.
Because the pain is too much.

She wipes away her tears.
Because there is no handkerchief or tissue to offer.

She smiles.
Because she learned how to cry many times, before learning to hide.

She limps away.
Because a girl like her had tattoos, painted black and blue.

She comes the next day.
Because there is no other thing to do but expect the same thing.

She's bleeding.
Because writing with a red pen on her arm was a habit of hers before bed, and she loved painting her bed sheets and bathroom floor red.

She heals.
Because getting hurt makes your body do the same thing.

And she cries. Again. And again. And again.
Because it's the same thing all over again.

She stutters.
She hick-ups.
She heaves.
She wipes away her tears.
She smiles.
She limps away.
She comes the next day.
She's bleeding.
She heals.
And she cries again.

And she does the same thing.

She makes my heart weep.