red: the colour of luscious lips
oh, the way it branded my skin
the touch of your fingertips
love letters in indelible ink

red, the colour of your cheeks
as I caressed your face gently
my, I wished I could take a lick!
of course, only with my pinky

blue, the colour of your bright eyes
a lovely sparkle of genius
like the soft glow of the sunrise
please, arise these tears not from fears.

blue, the colour of your summer gown
when you first said I was a dear
then you proceeded with a frown
tucking your heart next to mine, here.

brown, the colour of your long hair
as it fell in waves from your head
you clung like I was a stuffed bear
like a toy you would bring to bed

brown, the colour of our photos
the faded sense of nostalgia
has kept me on my tippy toes
that I'll see you again, right here

Times are hard when things have got no meaning
it is pointless to keep running away from the one thing
for which you are living;
it comes back, ever so haunting.

I've found a key on the floor
quite a strange find in a strange place
when I find someone to adore
maybe I too, will find solace

Maybe you and I will not believe in the things we find behind the door
a new dream? Or ancient lore?
maybe it would be quite a bore
Maybe it will touch me to my core

So what's the matter with you?
take the first step outwards
hold fast to my hands
and together we'll walk this through.

Sing me something new.
don't get me wrong,
for your words are like dew,
precious and beautiful.

Stand by me,*
and I'll show you all the things we could be.

Acid, that's what you are;
you get me up so high
just to drop me far below.
maybe I just wanna fly?

you cause hallucinations,
not my imagination.
I, for one, thought that your love
was not an addiction.
and not a hallucination.

this addiction I wished
I never had anymore!
but the shadow of the day
blinds out all the sun's rays
why is I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel?

silly me, I always knew there was the light but I just never wanted to believe in it; because who cares? The high is worth the pain, right?

you are refreshing water to a parched throat;
providing a stinging remedy that works in a painfully slow way.
strangely, the ache is what keeps me going.....
the more it hurts, the more pronounced the longing.

maybe you haven't realised,
but you're the water to a desert:
so precious, so wonderful and treasured
running down my throat, so pleasured.

but maybe you're a mirage in a parched desert of all life devoid:
an illusion, so hopefully, deadly beautiful
for believing this is true: oh, what a fool!
oh woe; avoid, I say, avoid!

the imperative words fall on deaf ears,
as I plunge headlong and deep
into a never-ending abyss of quicksand
into the obliteration of infatuation!

the story started with hairline cracks.
cracks that were so fine, thin and insignificant.
let us not sidetrack,
and go straight to how it all happened.

somehow the pressure got to us all
widening the tiny fissures in the wall
slowly the walls started crumbling
and the decorations started tumbling.

the pieces of the walls started to fall off
and each piece that almost hits me
i dodge, dust myself off and cough
it never did hit me that this really could be.

eventually i became enlightened
and my perspective was brightened
suddenly the rug fell through the floor
and i am out the door

plunged into darkness, i ask
since when had the fault lines widened to swallow me up?
into an endless abyss of darkness
unlike that of dusk

Summer rain:
the epitome of endless ironies,
like joyful pain,
and a bloodhound befriending a fox.

yet precisely through ironies we realise
how sharply contrasting these emotions are.
like how the eyes see nothing but lies,
and how things are only beautiful from afar.

perhaps, only through these ironic moments can we truly feel
the primal nature of emotions;
that lead us to **** ourselves
on the inside without hesitation.

y'know, just to make someone else happy.

today i tried to catch a feather that was drifting in the wind
so fine, so light, so delicate and grey as hell.
i clawed at it in a bid to catch the poor thing
yet the more i tried, the further away it flew.
i questioned myself over why i wanted to catch it in my hand,
and i realised i desperately needed something tangible to hold on to.
something; anything.
anything that i could pin all my hopes and dreams on.
i was too forceful in keeping you close to me,
to let you be the pivot of my existence.
yet the feather finally taught me today,
that i should let you go, and let you drift with the wind
and let it bring you where you will eventually stay.
maybe you will find a heart that will be your home one day.
until judgement day: drift, soar, fly!