There she stood. Beautiful. Perfect. As I looked at her she faded away. Not because I was forgetting her, but because she had forgotten me.
When the world turns. The days changes. Night's dark veil is pierced by the spear of oncoming daylight. Day reigns triumphant until the darkness arrives, drowning out the light. This endless cycle goes on. My heart beats on.
The battles never cease. The war knows no end. But her love knew an end. Without her love, the days seem shorter and the nights drag on.
The darkness chokes the light faster than before. The daylight whimpers behind a shield of clouds and rain, Spring drags on. Summer drags on. Fall drags on. Winter drags on. The world drags on. My heart drags on. Missing her. Loving her. Crying for her.
The day reminds me of the joy I do not have. The night drowns me with its cool touch. How much longer until the night lasts forever? When will the daylight become a lie I tell my children before they go to bed?
Rocks tumble down the hillside of my face. They turn to dust, blowing away in the breeze. The memories of those boulders sting worse than the quake itself. The avalanche of grief in my heart floods any semblance of normality.
Life has always found a way to go on. But not for my internal purgatory. My self hating prison of darkness. As the imperfect man waits for heaven or hell, so does my heart wait for judgment.

Scuffed case.
Paired and synced.
Simple, easy.
Simplistic beauty.
Music plays.
Audio flowing.
Eardrums tremble.
Heartbeat flowing.
Time slowing.
Soul escaping.
Joy replacing.

Her eyes are filled with a world of endless possibilities.
She catches as he stares at her.
What are you looking at?
She says with a smile, her adorable half smirk.
Just your beautiful brown eyes
He responds, smiling back.
She laughs and blushes, looking down at her plate.
That tender laugh was filled with such warmth.
He reached out and took her hand gently in his own.
Her eyes looked up, her cheeks still flush.
You truly are incredible
They both returned to eating, smiling at each other from time to time.
Never breaking the joy that hung in the air.

I grew up in the Bronx, rough neighborhood.
Times were tough, my mom didn't know what to do.
She worked long nights, all week as I struggled in school.
I failed every class, didn't make it too far.
Where'd I end up?
Strippin' at some bar.
Every night men would look and stare.
I used my body for money, but nobody cared.
Where'd it get me?
What good did it do?
But through all of my struggles, I made it out on top.
I've made it, I've succeeded, I rose up from there.
Now I'm a rapper, come on.
Go ahead and stare.

Lay me down in fields of green,
whisper promises and dreams,
as wildflowers sway in rippled sighs,
and treetops kiss the smiling sky.
Hold me close and stroke my hair,
while breathless love songs fill the air.
Never fear for I am near,
always close to you my dear.

I arrived to class several minutes late, parking was terrible.
Darting between seats, I wandered towards my seat.
There she was sitting across from my seat at the table; the purple girl.
Today she looked over at me and smiled, then resumed listening to the lecture.
Her purple pencil flicked up and down as she passively tapped it against her open notebook.
Her purple shoe flopped loosely against her heel, dangling onto her forefoot.
Her purple hair shone in the  daylight pouring through the window.
After class my brain fought with itself, debating on speaking with the purple angel.
As she arose with her packed purple pouch, I uttered a phrase.
“Your hair looks lovely today.”
I looked away, embarrassed with my not so subtle compliment.
She giggled, brushing a strand of hair from her eyesight.
“Thank you, I like yours too.”
She wandered out of class with the other students.
Next time I will finally raise up my courage.
For the purple girl.

I love the voice.
I adore the beat.
I connect with the lyrics.
Our song moves me in ways nothing else can.
As I listen, a memory begins to stir.
You are there in my car; laughing, smiling, looking at me with those heartbreaking eyes.
How can a memory posses a song?
Like a sickness the song causes me to weaken and become sad.
I slow down and reflect on my loss of you.
How can it be so wrong to love what I once derived joyful feelings from?
Now all I obtain while listening is heartbreak.
Our Song is a haunted song.

Crystal blue waves lapped against the shore.
The sun began to set.
Wind gently brushed through the palm trees, rustling the leaves. Tenderly shuffling the birds who rested insides its leafy embrace.
Looking down the beach I could see her standing there.
She was always there. She was always smiling.
Her eyes were closed as her hair gently blew in the wind, face lit by the dying embers of the day’s last breath.
Every moment in time was captured in her simple existence.
Every toil and pang was expressed in her sheltered eyes.
I waded through the mushy sand towards her, thinking of how it would feel to hold her close.
I pictured her turning towards me, opening her eyes, and opening her arms to embrace me.
The sand slugged between my feet.
Every step was erased by the oceans never ending grasp on the beach.
The closer I became the more I saw of her beauty.
Her brown hair seemed to hold an infinite amount of splendor, as if all of creation had taken a rest on her strands of hair.
They say that the journey is better than the destination.
Maybe they are right.
Maybe my image of her would overshadow her actual presence. Could it be that her simple existence was nothing but a shadow compared to my artistic portrait of her?
I was almost there.
The person I had waited my entire life for was a mere walks distance from where I stood.
I was not wrong, I knew that every glorious detail he had longed for was true.
As I stood there staring at my life’s desire, she turned towards me and opened her eyes.
This was it, this was the moment I had dreamt of for so long.
As our eyes met, a lump formed in my throat and tears welled up in my eyes.
She was perfect.
Inside of her eyes I could see everything.
Every single wish I had ever made was inside of those two spheres. They glistened in the orange glow of the setting sun.
Like two pools holding the one soul meant for me.

I miss her, yet I cannot forget her.
Like echoes of a time long gone.
Silence is my reality.
Try as I might she still holds my mind tight.
Is it her fault for being so captivating?
Maybe it is my own doing, for loving her too deeply.
I feel lost in a lake of dreams.
Dreams haunted with her presence, and nightmares filled with her absence.
She has forgotten me.
Now I am the only scribe left to keep our memory alive. So I write on.
I will not forget these memories, nor will I stop dreaming of a fantasy no longer attainable.
I will forever chase these memories of a dream long gone.

Brother, sister, my heart breaks for thee. Walking alone along this painful pathway, through a world engulfed in tragedy.
Torrential rain, endless pain, every day on this journey we are given.
Some never find hope, while others go emotionally broke.
Such anger and lust, flowing from so many of us.
A ragged road keeps pulling us along, no matter how many times we may fall.
Some do not get up at all.
Lost, alone, halfway insane.
Forgive us for falling, it is not our own doing.
It is this cold, cruel world, hurting and brooding.

I did not expect to lose you.
It seems this ending was inevitable, perhaps even predictable.
But those quandaries aside, losing you tears me up inside.
We live under the same roof, yet are you still here?
You say "hello" when I walk in the room, but are you my friend?
I loved you like a brother, and told you so.
Somehow in doing so I angered you.
Suddenly I was wrong and in denial.
"There is no way you love me that way." He said.
He smirked and walked away into the next day.
A lonely text flashed across my screen.
"I think it's best if you and I were rarely seen."
Tears welled up in my eyes.
Losing my friend, roommate, and brother all in one night.

"The world needs more hopeless romantics."
What does it mean to be a hopeless romantic?
It means my heart breaks when the person I adore chooses another.
I fall hard and fast for those who may not feel the same.
I would climb mountains for my partner, while they might walk all over me.
It means I write poetry for those who will never know.
I love the person I am with, and care for them until they leave me.
I pour my heart into my lovers.
Everyone who uses the phrase hopeless romantic seems to forget the most important part of the term.
Hopeless
Being this way is lonely and soul crushing.
Hopeless yet never ceasing my search.

Wake with me as the sun sets across the tree lined peaks.
Close your eyes when your lids grow weary.
Fall asleep in our tent, as the sun rises through the night.
Our fire burned bright, as we talked about finding love, losing life, and weeks gone by.
Savor every moment in these mountains, because soon enough this world will pass is by.

Trying not to overthink is an exercise in futility for me.
Imagine 3 trains going moderately fast, but each with a varying speed.
Now take those trains and double them while increasing their speeds.
Do that once more.
Imagine how chaotic that would look in reality. Now just warp the image so the trains are all on uneventful tracks that look like a roller coaster.
All of that is how overthinking works inside my brain.
My mind.
So many trains, so much worry, so many thoughts to think. There is never enough time for all of them; yet there they all go. Zooming around the receptors in the mind.
Blurry blobs of information and thought.
"Don't forget the milk. Milk. Milk. Milk. And her name was Joanne. Joanne. Yeah. Whoa that is a crazy deal! Milk Joanne. What in the world would a milk Joanne look like? **** I forgot the milk!"
A dozen trains on a dozen tracks. All flying loose like a thousand bats.

... to whisper sweet nothings into your ear long into the night.
... to journey across the globe in search of an ocean as deep as my love.
... to hold you in my arms while vowing never to let you go.
... to kiss your tender lips with my own.
... to envelop your long brown hair between my fingers.
... to glide my hands across your body.
... to drive a thousand miles just to be closer to you.
... to glide through the clouds by the sound of your laugh.
... to nudge my nose against yours as our foreheads touch.
... to climb every mountain, canyon, and cave just to rescue you from peril.
... to bend down on one knee and ask you to be with me for all of eternity.

Cleaning the apartment for the first time in forever.
Sorting through a pile of clothes I never wear.
There was a sock that is not mine, buried down below.
I bite my lip, holding in the urge to cry.
How can a sock affect me so?
It may seem stupid, but it reminded me of her.
Sitting on the sofa, her feet dangling off the side.
I would lean against the wall and watch, as she lay there so peacefully.
With her furrowed brow and pensive eyes, she stared at the screen.
She smiled, blushing as she saw me there.
We both laughed as I crawled into her arms.
Her legs wrapped around me, and I looked into her eyes.
It may seem strange that a sock has such power over me.
But I suppose it is not the sock, but its owner, that tortures me.

Steinbeck wrote of a restlessness many feel.
The urge to run away and find adventure.
To travel, wander, discover, and be free.
Every person has this feeling inside of them, pushing them to escape the boredom of reality.
To roam the countryside.
Surviving with nothing but the clothes on your back and the cash in your pocket.
Is this not living?

Like a cosmic whip, lightning crackles across the night sky.
It’s electricity illuminating the dire landscape that passes by outside.
Glancing out the window, eyes squinting at the glorious storm growing near.
Pressing the gas pedal down, heart racing as the vehicle jolts forward.
Like a comet flying through space, the car ripped through the torrential downpour.
Speeding through the dark void, raindrops colide with the window, like projectiles from above.
Though the inside of their vehicle was dry, the driver's eyes were flooded with tears.
Wiping them away with a brush of their hand, car speeding forward.
Resolved to follow the lightning, but not to see it’s glow once more.
It was to chase the thunder, that deep booming foe who always felt so near.
That is who we all chase, the invisible enemy who instills immense fear.

The rain splashing against my car's windshield, as it is flung from another car's tire.
The whoosh of air across the roof.
That audible shift when driving surfaces change beneath the vehicle.
“Click Click Click”
The blinker chimes, as I wait to turn left.
As I turn, the steering wheel groans with the car’s leftward weight shift.
I yawn.
Traffic goes on.
I glance to the billboards littering the highway’s landscape.
One reads; “Does advertising work? Just did!”
Hardly.
A sharp honk heard from behind. I had been daydreaming again.
My hands rise up apologetically as I press my foot to the gas and drive on.
I miss her.
"Stop, not now." I mutter. "Drive on."
So I drove on.

They tell me the war is won, that I was some kind of chosen one.
I do not feel like the victor.
There lies this inescapable feeling, a hollow ache inside.
The pills were tough, but I have felt worse.
Beams fired towards me as I lay beneath, as my heart gently beats.
I lost no hair.
I lost no weight.
My face and skin stay clear of grate.
Children, Elders, families, they all gambled with  surgeries fate.
What makes me different?
Why do I remain so free?
Why does this victory seem so empty to me?
That little girl who wheeled on by, why was she the failure compared to I?
My heart weighs with guilt for winning a war I did not even feel.
Every week.
Every day.
Every minute.
Why did it have to be me, crossing the lonely line back into reality?
It should have been Jeana, Stephan, Jamie...
It could have been anyone.
Anyone but me.

A solar eclipse of angelic proportions stretches across the day sky.
Space and time stopping for just a moment.
Waging factions joining hands for a temporary ceasefire.
To halves are whole for a moment.
Just a moment.
Then they move past, uncoupling again.
The world begins to move again.
Cars drive on, taxis honk their horns, people cross the streets of life.
What seemed so cataclysmic and final; was merely anticlimactic and dissolvable.

The wooden doors swing open, creaking as they do.
Books litter the walls, tables, and chairs.
Bestsellers filled with politics, celebrities, and dieting.
The "Classics" eisle is all but abandoned.
Shakespeare, Steinbeck, The Bronte Sisters, and more.
Books filled with elegant phrases, heartbreaking last words, and timeless prose.
I run my fingers along their spines, walking past the gravestones.
Reaching the music section, I smile and wander forward.
So many memories to be found.
Mozart, Beck, Chopin, Hendrix, the list goes on.
So many artists here, preserved through a dead medium.
CD's no longer hold a special place in the world, along with the books housed nearby.
As I walk to the entrance, now an exit, I see rows of newspapers.
Yet another reminder of times gone by.
Staring at the building, about to enter my car, I realize something.
This place is a graveyard for old things.
While the world has moved on to Kindles, iPads, and mp3s, this place has not.
That's why I'll come here until the day it to, is buried.

-1
Colorful lights flash across the room.
Eyelids shutter, shielding eyes from the blinding wonder.
The beams shine too bright, so hands are raised in protection.
-2
Legs buckle beneath.
Souls call out in heavenly speech.
But paradise is far from their reach.
All that awaits is the endless abyss beneath.

Rain drips off of the schools rooftop.
I dash quickly, hoping to avoid getting wet.
Perfect timing.
As I cross the roofs threshold, a large drop of water hits my right eye.
I brush it away.
Today is my final final.
The cloudy sky and rain are almost poetically intertwined with my GPA.
I look over to the grass separating my building and me.
Faint muddy footprints show in the trampled grass.
I wonder how many students have walked this path in the rain?
Placing my feet in the same steps, I carefully walk through the wetness.
Reaching the school's door, I place my hand on the glass and turn around.
I wonder...

It feels impossible to explain what I feel when I am near you.
So many emotions flash through my heart and soul.
I beg my mind to just put into words what I am feeling.
But as I stare at the blank screen, only silence resonates.
How can I explain the sheer magnitude of safety I feel when I simply stand next to you?
What words could be used to describe the beats my heart skips when you smile?
How many pages would it take to recount the exhilarating tenderness of your touch?
If I could paint, no canvas would be enough.
If I could sing, no set of lyrics could encompass my joy.
I have been told that I talk so much, yet when I am asked to describe you I fall silent.
How can I put into words the feeling of my heart, trembling in my chest as you sit next to me?
It may be a futile gesture to attempt these explanations.
But I will never stop trying.

He sat on the edge of his bed, the room surrounded by darkness.
The air was cold and harsh, wind blowing through an open window.
Sound crackled from the panel, as lights flashed across the board.
He stood up in a rush, tumbling off his bed.
Blue streams of light swirled in a cylindrical fashion.
The man rose up, staring into the whirling and shapeless light.
A woman's face appeared within the light.
Then her arms.
Chest.
Legs.
She was there.
Tears welled up in his eyes, streaming gently down his cheeks.
The woman began to smile, and cried along with him.
She reached out her hand, in an attempt to brush away his tears.
Her fingers made of light faded across his tear ridden face.
The pixels made no contact with his skin.
They both stood there, smiling, staring into each others eyes.
Seconds turned into minutes, which turned into hours.
As they sat together laughing at a inconsequential event, they both knew it was time.
His hand hovered near her projection, her hand hovered near his.
They closed their eyes and imagined a world in which distance did not matter.
With a hiss the machine came to a halt.
The room was silent.
Darkness once more filled the void.
The man got up and walked towards his bed.
He sat on the edge, and began to wait.

I only have so much space to offer now.
You have taken so much of it.
One area is filled with the memory of our first kiss; which takes up several acres.
Over there is the memory of your smile, which takes up a whole state.
There are several dozen blocks designated to memories of movies we saw together.
Three states are filled up with songs you said reminded you of me.
I have so little free space.
Every thought I have bumps into a memory of you.
Every time I try to remember if I forgot something at the store, your smile rises to the front of my mind's queue.
How much longer will you own land in my mind?
Please.
Please.
I have so little space left.

Alone, shuffling music on my phone.
A song long forgotten begins to play.
My heart begins to race, beating faster and faster.
Memories of Her flood across my mind.
Our entire story had simply lain dormant within a simple pop song.
I closed my eyes and fell backwards into a memory.
Her breathtaking smile flashed across my mind's night sky.
A voice so kind and soft was calling my name.
She placed her hand on my heart and felt every beat beneath my chest.
Looking into my eyes, she whispered one thing.
"Forever and always, together we'll be. Out love is eternal, your heart is the key."
She leaned in to kiss me, I leaned in to try.
But then the song ended, and with it, my final goodbye.
Her lips were so close, her soul so near.
Tears ran down my face as I lay in my bed, alone and lost.
Nothing ever lasts, not even Her smile.
Forever and always just meant for a while.

They seem motionless to us, floating there in space.
Shining far from our blue home they move apart, just at a slower rate.
Do falling stars feel the gravity that pulls on them?
Can shooting stars find a home within the universe's ongoing breadth?
Or are all stars slow dancing along, listening to some lonely song.

Flying through the air at speeds unknown.
Eyes closed.
Heart racing.
Traveling to a land riddled with memories of pain.
Is it possible to enjoy the pain?
Joy opens up the soul to more pain.
Eyes open, clouds passing beneath.
The world lives on beneath the massive metal machine.
Humans work on, unaware of the several hundred bodies flying overhead.
Life goes on, joy remains yet a distant dream.
The plane lands.
Life goes on.

A haunting voice echoes into the void.
Light is engulfed by the darkness of the oncoming night.
Many try to shout out in terror, yet only whispers escape their mouths.
Dogs whimper as they hide with their caregivers.
Birds cease their frantic chirping.
The land has been enveloped by the night.
Yet the haunted voice sings on.
An aria for the darnkess.

If only my innocence, had lasted forever.
If only my worries, were as light as a feather.
The world had other thoughts, and it chose to beat me down.
I lost my great grandpa when I was just ten,
I tried to grieve, but how could I then.
The next year I lost a grandfather, his name was Bruce.
For all his rough edges he sure was a great man, so losing him confused eleven year old me.
Six months later I lost my great grandma.
She had been old and weak, but her heart had still kicked those fiesty beats.
With so much loss my mind began to spin, why did those I love disappear in the wind?
I grew older in age, but my heart always ached.
For those I had lost, it felt just like yesterday.
Sadness led to fear, longing for pain.
Then sadness led to longing for someone to explain.
I loved and lost women and friends, until finally I just begged the world to let it all end.
I sat in the hospital, staring out the window from my hospital bed.
Alone at last, but surrounded by those like me.
The heartbroken, the lost, the one's living through insanity.
But something strange happened that day, something deeply profound.
From that day forward I looked up from the ground.
I smiled more often, and took stock of my life.
No longer did I worry over any perceived misery or strife.
Falling down for so many years had taught me one thing; getting up is your choice, no matter what the world thinks.

Blazing down the midnight streets, driving faster with every beat.
The higher the mile, the bigger the smile.
At this great speed, they felt at peace.
Hoping that it would finally allow them to outrun their life of greif.
Lights flicker, fingers numb.
It hurts so much.
Knives claw through the memories.
Faster.
"Please!", they cry out.
Fingers release, speeds increase.
There it was.
Clarity.
"Amy is right, Chad ***** major ***!"
She drove her pink Hummer to the sorority house.
"Yaaaaas, Queeeeeeen!"
They yelled.
"Chadsworth is gone!"
Cheers went round and their souls rebound.
But Chad was near, he always was, because Chad was an interdimensional demon.
1063629 was it's /name/
Sorority in flames, ladies Instagraming the pain.
1063629 sees this and claims
"/names not found/ feel pain! Emote!"
Empty space.
1063629 cries.
It is alone again.
Soul shattered in the war of JPSL20.
Alone in shame of loss.
Tears of an interdimensional demon.
Like glue.
Glue.
I love you too.
Glue cracked the sky.
Crazy glue.
Stuck on you.
Glue cracked the earth.
Hades ruptures beneath.
Hellspawn rise up from the shattered surface realm.
Glue.
The new savior lost, in a battle with the demon 1063629.
In 46-70 the Lord of Demetrius defeated the beast once known as; 1063629.
Glue was the cure.
Earth sealed with glue.

My throat's a cracked desert, a canyon so dry,
My heart's a lone tumbleweed, blown 'cross the sky.
My love turned to dust, like a wish swept away,
Leaving me empty, and oh, so parched today.

I reach for a bottle, its promise so sweet,
But the fire it brings offers only deceit.
It burns and it bites, yet the hurt lingers on,
My spirit cries out, for a love that is gone.

I'm trapped in this whirlwind, a spiraling fall,
Each sip that I take leaves me weaker and small.
The ache in my soul, a deep, endless sigh,
And the world spins around me, as I echo, "Bone dry."

Remember those wooden games you would play with as a child?
Where there was a board with differently shaped slots.
You would have to fit the matching shaped blocks into them.
Circles, Squares, Triangles, and Stars.
Adulthood is like that game.
Some days we do not get any of the shapes correct.
Then there are days when get a few.
On the rarest of days you get all of the blocks in their perfect place.
The hard days make the special days so much better.
Even the two out of three block days are something to celebrate.
So keep practicing, you can get them all right.

Dirt, grass, leaves, rocks, trees.
Looking down at my grubby hands, scuffed up from foraging for a soul.
Light gleams through the branches above, yet my eyes cannot unsee the darkness around me.
Stumbling forward, tripping on the forest ground, searching for meaning in a meaningless land.
My eyes blink, salt and liquid try to blend, but nothing leaves the eyelids as they contort and bend.
After a lifetime of crying alone, my river of tears seems dried to the bone.
Heat subsides while the sun sets, coolness of night begins it's rise from the depths.

Those holier than I, ask;
"Why do you not shine as we do? For you, it is darkness that emanates."
A sigh escapes my mouth as I reply
"The light you worship has long abandoned me."
Rumbles, mumbles, hushed and calm, arise from their group as they question my wrongs.
A youthful voice shouts from their ranks, confident, full of perceived grace
"Dear brother that cannot be so, our king would never throw you into realities cruel sea."
These words have been said before, my ears have heard them often.
My mind has grappled with my lack of faith, thoughts have attacked my soul and blamed me for my disgrace.
"please,"
I utter as the pain clouds my face
"leave me be. I have ended my struggles by riding myself of him."
Saints swarm around my place, praising him and claiming he can heal my soul.
But the plague in me forces them away.
I call on my demons to rescue me, as my feet run faster from those who claim to be angelic and pure.
In the distance ahead a voice calls to me.
The void shrouded in darkness echoes with a deep somber howl.
An end for them is merely a beginning for me.
"Run to me, come forth into my midnight city"
"yes"
So I went to Him
-Fin-

Every day begins the same, every week longs for the next to begin.
The tree outside my windows scrapes and tears, begging to come in from the cold world outside.
Neighborhood birds sing a song whose lyrics are a mystery to everyone except me.
My dog barks at the neighbor as he mows his lawn on a rainy Monday night.
Cats in the alley hiss and fight over some trivial thing.
The apartment above me seems to have a party going on, which makes no sense since it is in the middle of the week.
Opening my friend's cooler reveals the beers inside, all light brews, sadly.
Staring up into the stars above causes me to wonder if we truly are alone.
If the universe is infinite, filled with millions of stars, always expanding, never-ending, always shining, always destroying, always finding a way; then my does my heart feel empty today?
My mailbox is empty yet again, even Evelyn across the street got a letter from her son.
I light another cigarette, causing my dark jail cell to light up in a blaze.
"Get him out of there!" they laugh and scream.
But inside I burn, along with my dreams.

Fumbling through a drawer my fingers brush against a familiar plastic object.
I grasp onto the tiny memory card and pluck it from the hiding place.
The card slides into the computer port with a satisfying click.
Click.
A window pops up with long lost folders.
All of the files unrecognizable, with icons indistinguishable from the rest.
I slide the cursor across the screen.
Hovering over a random folder.
Hovering.
Click.
As fast as I clicked the folder, my cursor flew towards the red “X”.
Click.
The folder closed.
My heart raced.
It had been a year.
One long year.
A face I had long tried to erase from my mind was now burned into its forefront.
My fingers pull out the drive.
I throw it into the trash.
Sadness fills my heart.
Her face.
Her smile.
Her eyes.
Those features of a ghost were now reborn in my mind.
A ghost.
My ghost.
Am I forever haunted?

I would wander a desert, because you are my water.
I would sail the ocean blue for years on end, because you are my new continent.
For decades I would search for a cure, because you are my sickness.
Late nights, long hours, and endless drives. All in search of what I lost.
Oh what I would do for you.
I would stay up all night to keep you company while you studied.
Seconds, Minutes, Hours, Days, Weeks, Years, Decades.
All irrelevant when I am with you.
I do not need coffee to keep me up, you are my energy.
I do not need sleep, because you are my rest.
My love for you is like a circle; it has no beginning and knows no end.
I love you.

I walk into class and sit in my chair.
H. smiles, their chair spinning around to face me.
I look up at H., awkwardly smiling back.
They ask me how I am, their foot gently tapping my leg.
I take a deep breath.
The feeling of H.'s foot against my leg sends shivers all over my body.
I respond, and unpack my things.
Class goes on, H.'s foot occasionally brushing against my leg.
Accidently?
Purposely?
The professor says something vaguely stupid.
H. glances over at me and rolls their eyes, smiling.
That smile, it gets me every time.
Class comes to an end, with reality rushing towards me.
H. picks up their cell phone and laughs, texting their special someone.
Someone else.
We part ways and I sigh.
Until next lecture.
Until then, I will wait for H.
And smile at the simple thought of them.

I found a window.
It spoke to me in such an odd way
"Look through me, and your soul will be set free."
So I looked with my eyes, and all I saw was pane.

Late at night I would watch and watch.
A smile was usually plain to see across my face.
Not every joke would land, nor every video a hit.
But no matter what I would always watch.
Today I leaned of your horrible ways.
All of the terrible things you had done, day after day.
I know it hurt those who knew you best, but it also hurt me deep in my chest.
I lost a hero, though we never met.
Gone are the late nights, gone are those pleasant thoughts.
But I still will live with joy and smiles, but for now I will walk on.
Away from your videos, now turned vile