For others, the eyes
are the windows to one's soul.
But his eyes are the keys
that unlock the rabbit's hole.

I promised to be careful,
never falling for them;
but there is a wonderland,
found deep inside him.

From the outside,
a mysterious gaze, a cue—
as he stretched out his hand—
"Let me show you."

maybe you're not ready to fall this autumn but you still like me enough to keep me warm. dare i say, it wasn't enough. i tried to reignite the fire from summer '19 but you can't keep up with the same intensity like you used to and i only burned you from getting too close. now i'm left with the cold shoulder—just in time for winter.

maybe we're better off for the summer, when the heat was high but you'd rather play with fire and keep me close than spend it alone. you didn't get burned and even asked for more. we were too caught up in the heat of the moment for sure.

and maybe it felt so good that we jumped too soon and skipped chapters we were supposed to slowly unfold together. now we're not on the same page anymore and that led us to bewilderment. we're in spring but what page are you on?

in the end, i'm the only one taking risks. and before you could, i've already blown the dwindling flame goodbye. i can't give you warmth when you keep being cold. and i can't be your summer when you keep being my winter.

Dive down deep inside your mind
if you feel like drowning
for a while.
I lived by these words, I stayed at the shallow end.
I'm realising that I'm stronger now.
For the most part I can take it in now, I can explore and stay afloat.
I recognise the parts of me that were, and the parts of me that still are.
I let the feelings wash over me.
I stay. I swim for a while.
The water's just fine.

you,
the song i put on my tongue,
the poem i whispered to my pen,
the love i breathed in my heart...

what does it mean, to be
the object of adoration
my listening heart is
so incredibly torn
for i love more
of you every
new hour
on the
day

Last night I
dreamt that
I loved
somebody
so much
that it
brought me
to tears
when I had
to wake up.


Why can't I
feel sincere
emotions
about the
people I
know in
real life?

I only love
as thru my
dreams.

Sometimes, I wonder,
Am I trapped inside my own head?

Refusing to believe the written on the page,
I just make up my own.

Is this what constitutes insanity?
Or is it my own lack of ability,

My refusal to see the light,
Even in the brightest of days?

My own thoughts like flies,
Drawn to the stench of my rotting mind?

Is this my own choice, my own fate?
Because it sure as hell doesn't feel like it.