i cannot do.
make do i cannot.
to understand what makes only my surroundings happy.
what wrong keeps returning inside of me to leave me out?
envy those lucky and careless, i do, for i cannot
do no more than merely wish for a smile to spread,
not the numbness weighing down my chest, flooding the gateways of my veins with its poison like wet black paint.
i do not want to make this all i know;
its familiarity scares me.
what am i missing out on?
when sad longing eyes scan from the corner
over the strangers i do irritate myself seeing,
the fault in isolating myself is clear.
finding too many flaws and reasons to
throw away the key of eternal joy.
why do i do this to myself, thinking about
how upsetting it is that i find it sad how
i am not alive only in dreams.
my mind begs me to stop all this from happening.
it needs a get out jail card, but unfortunately these types
do not come for free.
because i cannot always feel what others feel.
i am cast out from having too much fun,
and jealousy accomplishes so little.
but indulge in too much pity i refuse.
the universe doesn't care about anyone
it does not keep promises for anyone.
believing in its reliability to keep you feeling
wanted, and with purpose and worth
is not worth it.
it does not stop for anyone
especially not to make sure i am feeling okay
on this gloomy monday morning.
i would rather be anywhere else.

1;
i'm not a thief, but i kept your favourite baby blue scarf in the second drawer of my bedside table. it still has that hole near the bottom when you frantically tore on your scarf because it started snowing and you wanted to go out and play.

2;
do you remember that night? i do. flakes of snow were floating into place like a crown upon your hair. i told you the heavens were filled with envy after we made snow angels, and you just smiled. and even through all that thick snow our hands met and a warmness no fireplace could beat filled my insides. it felt like home.

3;
lots of things felt like home. i could look into your eyes and know i lived in each galaxy they held. i could bury my nose into every sweater you have ever worn and name all the cookies they smelt of. i could hide under your sheets and in your arms like a childhood game with the couch, only i didn't need to have rules or a time out; time was a fragment of an unneeded past with you. a needed future.

4;
now this time the past is needed. regrets cramp my chest and texts you'll never read sit weighing with glue on my phone. it still has the case you brought me of the cat with yarn. i hope you can see it on the table as you set your cup of tea down. set your head down. the scream of silence fills every corner of the room.

5;
a few sips left. time is catching up and sneaking out from under the table, disobeying the game's rules. it is swallowing up the tea for you too quick and i wish my mind could keep up. words are clogging up my throat like a drainpipe refusing to spill.

6;
i want you to spill your tea over. apologise endlessly like you do. i'll clean it up and buy us more time. but the coins are scattered and few in my pockets and weigh a ton each for all the plans they can't take. please say something.

7;
say something, i used to say, urging to hear beautiful french words come from your lips. you'd giggle and push me flustered into the couch with your striped maroon socks. i wonder if you're wearing them right now. i wonder if you're wearing a smile too worn and frayed to button up all the things left to say right now.

8;
your tea is gone. there is nothing left to say. i wish there was; some dramatic realisation of a way to make things work again, because they cannot, and we know that. and the front door is getting closer and goodbyes are being said and i am getting desperate. tell me there is another feeling, something else. i want to unlearn knowing all has been done. i want to forget to remember. i want your car to break down as soon as you start it.

9;
because i know our mixtape will begin when your drive, but it's okay because i have another copy right here, above the radio. stay. let's listen to it. stay. please, at least one last kiss. stay. i need you. stay. we will miss out on things time set up for us. stay. i know snow angels aren't meant to last but all this time we were sunshine on backyard swings and you were my home. i still call you my home. i still call you.

10;
because without you i am homeless. i need a place to stay.

so stay.

if this is love then it is both selfish and selfless.
i am selfish because thinking of you spending and enjoying time with other people can't help but stake me.
i am selfish for wanting you all to myself.
i am selfish for getting suicidally jealous.
but i am selfless for wanting to give every part of me to share with you,
like a jigsaw puzzle waiting desperately to be complete.
is love a synonym for pain?
why is it often associated with happiness when it is mostly the opposite?
why must love come with a risk of broken hearts and no cure,
with dangers and stepping stones made of land mines,
days filled with misery unpredictable?
love may be breathtaking, in both meanings:
it enchants you and it eventually kills you.
it drains you and it pains you.
it brings out the fool and whining and the mess,
and why must i get myself into this?
because love pulled me towards you.
a waste of time this may be but ignore the warnings i do,
for you make it worthwhile, the bitterness and jealousy,
an experience i'd rather not miss out on,
even if it ***** me dry from missing you all the time.
and am i filled with regret?
i think not.

don't just give yourself a planet or a star.
give yourself a whole galaxy,
be every swirl of cosmic matter you can find,
and never let a black hole
take away your shine.

soundless you lay with thoughts rested,
and i fill with envy.
your name doesn't come with faraway smiles
or the warmness of invisible breath,
guilt comes in waves and i find myself drowning,
i can't bring myself to see the texts left,
no indication left, that you're still awake to see my reply
i miss you, i miss you.
wishing you were here is an understatement,
but state this properly i cannot. even now
i dread the heavy stones weighing on my chest
when i piece out each word i want to say,
each hurtful memory i want to relive.
so feel i won't do for you tonight, i'm afraid the tears
won't meet their end against my empty pillow.
and i hate it more to look heartless but either way
i would be just that because my heart wouldn't take
the aching for your arms around me.
i am sorry i am such a coward.
i do not know how to love properly sometimes,
i just do so in a way it doesn't hurt so i wouldn't
have to need you so **** much
all the time.

be careful with who you put your heart on your sleeve for;
they might accidentally crush it when reaching for your hand.


l . c

your hands feel like fireplaces in mine,
and the bed is an ocean for us to float upon,
coiled around each other like colourful bits of ribbon,
lips connected with a single effortless touch
and skin shaking under wandering fingers.
i open myself up to you like a galaxy,
and even though the room is a dim spotlight,
i see you make up all the shine of the stars.
and though sleep lies heavy amongst the world,
and night has now rolled under,
you are my sky of suns, my favourite memory,
wrapped up in the sweet essence of us.
i would rather time stutter on its breath,
so i could relive this moment in your arms
til my dying day.

this place is a cage and full relaxation is an air of mist in the distance
and why must my hands be nets with too many holes so I cannot catch it?

a blanket of galaxy
tucks me in with a warm breath
sending ripples through its sky
waving hello at me
the stars twinkle their acknowledgement
and i know for tonight i'm not alone

the rain is a gentle drum on my face
a memory shocker of what it is
to feel, to live
the clouds part their curtains
allowing me a part of their hug
and i know for tonight
i'm not alone

An angel kissed me last night
Floating from the ceiling he glowed
Cast the room in a shimmering light
Bathing the darkness with hope
Levitating off my half awaken form
With scarcely any movement made
Gradually luring me from my slumber
To see his enchanting face
His softened eyes, his smile sweet
As he extended a delicate hand
Fingertips gently caressing my cheek
A wordless greeting, a subtle command
His wings surrounded and enveloped us
Brushstrokes of feathers glimmering white
While the halo on his head was set ablaze
Spellbinding me without any fright
I sought his embrace, starstruck by his grace
As he leant down and brought his lips to mine
He gave me a kiss so warm and divine
Melting with devotion into the sublime
But his body was fading in and out of the air
A wisp of a silhouette in the atmosphere
My hands desperately hunted through the dark
To hold him close before he disappeared
"Come back," I whispered. "Please stay with me."
But he vanished then without a goodbye
Gifting me with the memory of his touch
Lingering on my skin from that night
I cherish dear and precious in my heart
When I found relief there in his arms

i cannot be your anti depressant.
i cannot transform into a warm blanket
every time you feel the cold.
i cannot seep into your veins and rest
underneath your scarred skin.
not all promises can be kept and
i am only trying to speak the truth.
try to understand i have my own demons to tame.

don't make your happiness so dependent
on my rise out of bed in the morning.
don't rely so much on this frail veiled soul
to mend each broken piece of yours
while i'm still only trying to kick myself out
of my own shark infested seas.
the speaking of pure fantasy only assures me,
i will soon be suffocated by your adding of more water.

you cannot intend on making me your hero.
you cannot be fixed by these clumsy hands that
can't always be there in time to hold yours.
so please. i am only human.
you have to save yourself.
because i can never be your anti depressant.

I sat with my back to the mirror
I always avoid people I don’t know;
Strangers are a danger.
And the thick fog that buries itself
Underneath my skin, makes me
unrecognisable.

My memory is as weightless as my feelings,
Down the drainpipe they go, scattering across tiles.
And I’ve met up with misery and held its claws
And it left with me with scars instead of smiles.
I’m picking at loose threads, waiting for my mind to return;
Broken and damaged, its pieces sailing off track for miles.

It’s the art of falling apart, to be vulnerable,
Trailing behind the spraypainted signs of my mind,
Left stranded, shipwrecked and empty, lost and deserted;
Smoke fills the void and nothing’s important.
I’ve said hello to the embodiment of my nightmare,
I see it in the mirror and I ******* under its stare.
So raindrops, will you gather and set me free?
Because nothing’s inside anymore to let there be tears.

And I want to find my way back home,
But the twist of my insides is like a maze,
Crown of thorns for this crowded daze.
And I don’t want the outside to reflect
what’s on the inside,
it’s a scary place.

The closet in the dim isolated room
Stores away so many of my bones
That store too many secrets for the
Weak hearted,
So each week I’m parted from demons
That are a part of too much of me.

But I can never see the difference, my two sides won’t show it.
It does so little to comfort me; what have I become?
Am I the walking dead and a watcher of the funeral of my smiles,
Whose continuous lives and illness discomfort and confuse all?
Am I fast asleep when dreams of a peaceful life take over?
Because I awake to find that I’m too stripped back and empty to find anything to give,
A signal I care, or knowing something has shifted
A tectonic plate in my brain,
Erupting the series of footsteps to the door
Of the insane, knocking furiously enough to break it.

The desperate pull of the veil over my mind
Disguises it as curtains for a show, a grand act.
I am the star of the leading role, too centred, too vain,
Perfect to match the unmatched mess I feel every day.
The genius illusion is that am I really acting?
Even I do not know.
The stage is my war zone; no man’s land,
Because I am obviously not human,
And I cannot let anyone else in.
It's bad comedy of a pathetic attempt at drama
For anyone willing to tolerate my oh so called woes.
I choke on the mixture of laughter and tears
I collect in a cracking overflowing jar and drink,
Getting intoxicated on my pity, and hazy on the self-mocking,
Gurgling manipulations of sharing the side dish
But also shoving away any takers.
I am greedy - I want it all to myself.

And to myself it shall remain.
I buy all the tickets and keep them to remind myself
How my dim isolated room shrinks with each entry,
How I refuse to give out any more keys.
Maybe the walking dead is what I am;
Surely life is not this lightless when it is lived.
At least I hope not.

i'm taking in your scent that still lingers against my hands
before i go to sleep,
to remind me one last time of the day i had with you,
and to pretend you're here whispering goodnight
with soft protective arms wrapped around me.

I know if we met again
and by chance, alone at your door,
we happened to kiss even passionately,
it wouldn't be the same as before.
I know the masks of stubborn pride
and the fake replica of it all
if we tried to recreate whatever connection
there might have been before.
If we tried to meet without quivering lips
and hurt memories running through our eyes,
then by chance, we could have one last dance
but for now it's all a lie
I know I won't be meeting you again,
there will be no knock on your door,
outside my dreams the passion is gone,
there is no hope for us anymore.
Outside my dreams it won't ever be the same
as before.

knees;
games too rough and concrete too hard,
a cry heard from across the park,
a healed wound covered by a playful sticking,
and a slip up cared for and forgotten.
i can carry on with a smile;
i had thicker skin when i was younger,
times when tears were only shed at accidents.

heart;
a once unrecognisable beat of ecstasy,
put on repeat when your face surfaced,
when your fingers met my surface,
but they soon dug in too deep and left scars.
now pieces lie around my feet and red drops
leave my aching hollow chest from where you took
a once alive merchandise of our love.

nose;
too much caring leaves me astray
in a dark city awaking at late hours,
craving something that can leave me numb
and forgetting parts of my thoughts exist.
trails of white disappear in a sniff,
a sigh of relief, and i know just for now
i am not doomed.

wrist;
a bathroom door locked,
water running freely just as crimson joins it.
watching the flood of the last thing i feel
as skin stains, eyes drain,
nothing is worth it.
i am doomed but at least i
controlled it.

you say the moment you get a car
you’ll drive me to the beach at night
so we can lie down and count the stars
i’ll make sure to take down
the prettiest one for you

but i also want to keep it for myself
that way, whenever i miss
gazing into your eyes
i can take a look at the sky's piece
and not feel so alone

it won't shine twice as much
as you do, though.

the broken pieces of your promise shatter through my fingers and leave them red.
red for the anger beneath the scattered glass.
and if you think it's red for the passion, you're only right about one thing;
it's flowing and disappearing down the drain faster than the bullet you sent whizzing through my heart.

gather up all the colours of your life,
hold on to your collection of stars,
so when the world decides to turn grey,
you can still find your rainbow in the sky,
no matter how dim the beam may be.

the imagination can be the cruelest thing
because it's not reality that hurts the most
it's the wanting of a new one
and realising
that you cannot have it.

I'd like to dissolve in legends and myths,
Including the cosmic swirl within.
My fingertips, with light they rage,
I spin the planets at a steady pace,
My skies a canvas of gleaming futures and hopes.
I am mystery, I am beautiful;
No tearing comet will brings me tears,
And I know many things without the existence of fear.

But,
This is all I know:
I know this is a tale.
I am devoid but of a void,
An empty black hole
******* up all that shines.
The stars are dying and burning up early
And the world, I cannot control.

Because my sun's days end too soon
And quickly sets to rise the moon,
And the golden rays meet their doom.
The universe is not mine to keep.
It is merely there to show me all
I cannot do.

I wish my head would stop turning in the direction of my phone,
waiting with batted breath for the writing of text, an indication you're still awake.
I wish I wouldn't fill up with overwhelming waters of disappointment,
because I already know that you won't reply.
I wish you would text me first because I don't want to seem clingy.
I wish I could stop my eyes from glancing at your name every five seconds,
wishing it was a name belonging to a person I didn't want to need.
I wish I didn't miss you so late at night.

Why, I ask the sheets of my bed,
the warmth of the covers on me, the pillow rested comfortably.
Why, I ask the shadows in the corner of my room,
the specks of paint on my walls, the chipped wood on my door.
Why, I ask the hour of midnight,
the endless well of darkness, the undisrupted quietness.
The flickers of a flame, the ripples of an ocean,
the peak of a mountain, the trunk of a tree,
the sand of a beach, the coldness of snow,
the petals of a flower, the whistling of a breeze.
Why, I ask the world.
But it keeps its lips sealed tight.

I like the world at 3 pm,
where the lights are out and the streets are silent,
raindrops tiptoeing on the glass
giving me comfort in the lonely space,
the house settles for sleep in a softening hum.
My mind bursts to life in swirling colours;
I could open the front door and run out,
lie down on the road and count the stars,
watching them dance and spin in glitter and glam.
I could escape on an empty train
and watch the world fly past in a blurred daze,
still and unmoving and dreaming,
taking its residents amongst flights of desire,
of higher planes and greater distances
while lying motionless in their bed, warm
and for a second, at peace.
I can wish the world away and retreat
to the playful corners and trick mirrors of my mind,
open my soul with hidden keys and unlimited time,
but for now the universe drifts amongst the sky
with an welcoming invitation to its home,
and I watch with wonder and awe,
floating within the galaxy's embracing arms,
letting it open my doors for me
and opening its own in return.

when i catch myself dreaming
i pay attention and listen
to your heartbeat that's found
in my own when it's missing

8 a.m.
An excuse to leave the bed
Leaving behind your warm ghost
But no hands to hold as I rise afterwards
Your hands - as an excuse -
Hold the cold mug, raise it to your lips
An excuse to not share the mug
To share a last kiss
Those hands, opening the front door
Your feet walk out - a mumbled goodbye
Being late is always a good excuse
I remain alone at the table
The ghost has left the room and entered my thoughts
That soft gaze never meets mine
Like it used to, after I stopped being a stranger
Am I becoming, once again,
A stranger?

Your smile, now a straight line
There are
Casual texts, half hearted laughs
You start forgetting to leave your shirts behind
Remember you have dinner with a friend
And your favourite chicken
Grows cold with each passing waiting second
You don’t moan as much as you used to
The once tinted sparks have faded
And my bedroom floor grows cold
With each expecting second
Of stumbling feet, thrown jeans
Crumpled sheets as two bodies meet
But bodies turn away on their sides
When nights only become about sleeping
And sleeping becomes forgetting
Forgetting to remember I’m still there

And, your hands,
Now clinging onto a cold metal bar
As a train pulls your further away
Has forgotten what warmness once felt like
Laced fingers slipping, loose, distant
Opposite of our lips
Tight, closed in, nothing to say
No reason to open and fall on each other
Only a reason to fall, away
And away you go each morning
Excuses ready
Love has been set in stone, put on hold
Because hold my hand, you do not
The past finds itself, repeating itself
And we are strangers once again
Warmness has become
A stranger
But in the desperate hours
Of early morning excuses
The ghost of it lingers
In the spot you slept in

inhale emptiness,
exhale loneliness.
walls don't come with ears but
the feeling of madness as my crackling voice
bounces off of its dead cold surface,
filling the space with my desperate words,
and reminding me of the prisoner i am.

inhale dread,
exhale panic.
lungs don't fill with air but the torrent of ***** water
to leave me shaking and unclean, ease only arriving
when wondering if a rope around my neck
would hurt less than the thoughts cramming,
screaming in my head.

inhale smoke,
exhale death.
the candle of my soul is melting,
the last weak flames flickering against my unfeeling skin
and releasing the ashes through my veins.
set me free, set me free, set me
free.

but i can find a door within my cell,
or crash through it like a warrior.

but water can clear lands and clean hands,
washing away the pain with calming ocean waves,
flooding my eyes with newly made life.

but the fires can warm up my numb surface
and light my way out of the dark.

inhale hope,
exhale.

i know nothing more than the
crippling weight of my self hate
the familiar bitter taste of pity
i spit out in doses as i laugh in mockery
but this time i could learn
how to sink into someone else this time
learn to unpick their seams
to crumble and unravel and fall apart for me

i am burning inside.
don't get too close, you'll feel the scorching heat,
the flames that flicker warning you of the ash to come
i beg you to run away yet strain my hand tighter around yours
(fingertips blackened; a mirror to the soul)
while certain a finger of two is breaking, and not stopping.

i am the embodiment of hurt.
i'm a mess of splattered nonsensical pain
i want you to hate me yet i do not want you
to hate me
or leave me.
i want to leave the fire started in my chest
spreading its destruction
but that would be the desire for something impossible
and that is laughable. like me.
like you ever loving me properly.

because no matter how many salty tears i cry
the pathetic attempt to calm the flames
i only create an ocean we both drown in
i am the anchor to your sinking  bombed ship
pulling you down with me
i am the coat i never want you to take off
even though the heat is overwhelming.
and i want to keep you safe from me
but in my mind, the thought concludes to the action
of adding more layers.
and then the seams
burst.

i am sorry you love me.

what a foolish thing to do
to think of you,
and so late and quiet in the night too.
if you were here
and together were we
i couldn't keep from being a fool to you.
confide in you, so close beside you
and forget my lessons from before.
the past happened to show me
i can't be a fool for you no more.

i shall remain as a hidden piece of a puzzle,
puzzling myself to pieces on why storms
swirl daily around the absence of my brain.
and on this rainy friday afternoon it should be no different;
wondering how i came to be, perched away
in the back of the room to watch a flood of unfamiliar smiles.
when did i become so lonely and outcast?
the dread of not liking most of the people i'm around dawns
and my jagged edges of a puzzle piece emphasise.
i do not fit with these people. they are
too sure on their happiness.

driftwood floating
amongst the sea of
fast asleep smiles
composing the ripples
of loving warmth
a lulling wafture
to the face of
reality
galaxy park awaits and
wakes
in my dream
and i arrive at
ease.

i know you think
flaws do not apply to you
when you disentangled our strings
and pretended i was a stranger
but it's the other way round
for you are the stranger i barely recognise
resembling little of what i know,
of what i used to see.
thanks for reminding me
how messed up i am.
but at least i'm not a fake
and warp myself for other's sake.
see, i'd rather be myself and alone
than wear a mask and have millions.
i just thought
you were better
than that.

How can you hold the very makings of disaster?
How do you ease yourself in finding trouble to hold onto?
You are gripping the hands that once
fumbled for a tearing of skin,
bore blood at the fingertips,
greeted the brick wall with excitement and shattering
my numbness along with it.
What comfort do you seek in weaving your fingers
with ones that tugged desperately on hair
and swept away floodgates of water from tired eyes,
proving to me I was weakened once again?

But I look down at the shaking documents of disaster
when your embodiments of happiness reach for them
and cover the wounds in an unhesitant embrace.
And I know those previous questions don't matter;
your infectious comfort of my hands rests in the palm
and spreads.

My hand is now only holding your hand.
Only.
And that's the only thing it should now do.

my heart has learnt to move to the rhythm of your touch
your fingers wave the spell, and it starts to dance
sweeps across my skin, and it slips into a trance
it has memorised the steps, and remains mesmerised
even now, long after the puppet strings have been cut,
still it sways to the memory of our dance,
any song sending it flying, mystified.
forgive its foolishness;
it is too familiar, it is too
easily reminded.

if you feed your monsters they will grow.
instead, laugh in their face and give no indication of attention,
except a wave of the hand,
shrinking them back into their dark corners.

take time learning all the sides of your soul.
be gentle with your hands as you rest them assured on yourself,
be loving with your heart to your mind.
be careful on the stepping stones, waves underneath might crash
and keep you off course.
think about what stops you from sleeping at night, and
why your bed keeps you trapped in the morning.
life may not always be a rainbow,
but neither does the colour black stick permanently to your canvas.
learn to paint it with as many shades as you can;
you control the brush.

My brain is a wondrous thing. It's calm ocean waves drifting sparkles of valuable shells to the shore and tsunami storms crashing down houses and flooding eyes, soft cushiony fabric to dig your face into and sharp daggers to bleed from, a rocking cot and a resting graveyard. I am neither happy or sad. I can neither have pain or pleasure as a tattoo upon my undecieding soul. I do not live by what I feel but where those feelings take me. Moments are fleeting and identities are scarce. I am confused in a beautiful way, scattered in a gifted way, like colourful stained marbles across tile floors. I am the rage of light at day and the blooming darkening shine at night. But black and white I cannot be. My colours lie as a mess in the middle, my canvas life, my pallet the directions, my paintbrush the weapon, the creator. Many masks slip off, labels start to peel, and face paint washes away in the rain dance that is life. That is me. I am a wonder. I am unfitting jigsaws of all the things that make me think, and alive, waiting to be discovered and reborn, reshaped once again. Stardust and black holes consume my thoughts and both fill and drain my heart dry, but empty I can never be. For my soul is the universe, most unexplored, but never ending. I am a masterpiece.

I don't want you, I say
as I stare longingly at my screen for
a message to appear with a certain name
that does things to me.

I don't want you, I say
as the tips of my fingers tingle
and my heart becomes a drum,
the soundtrack to your entrance,
to the live wire my body becomes.

I don't want you, I say
as I surpress a cry
when your watchable lips mutter a bye
and I feel empty without a presence
of something I can't get myself to say,
is a pleasance

I don't want you, no, not at all
Not only because I can't admit it
(Too proud and afraid to say another person makes me whole
That I become needy without control)
But because that it's not true
I don't want you -
I need you, and
Owning you is all I think
I'm able to do

I’m just a more miserable version of myself
and my pen is my weapon that it uses,
Leaking out the gas I consume
and fogging the paper with words of death.
It carves out my pain to a permanent grave,
doing the bleeding for me,
slashing across the page; ink runs,
tears run, but I
can’t run.

i once had a teacher say to the class "use this free time to space out"
and i couldn't help but laugh and wonder
the dangers of that activity once i ventured into the depths of my mind.
see, a good idea that was not for me.
i've spent enough countless moments and wasted time in my own head to memorise how skipping away into it went.
you do not skip, first off; a tightening rope bounds your legs and demands you to stumble into an endless pit.
rain plummets like bombs upon your unfeeling grey skin,
and a dark shadow's sharp nails dig into your chest
and leave a gaping hole, unwilling to be fulfilled.
your throat closes like the door behind you, so there's not escape,
no screams ready to echo off your prison cells walls,
no hands steady enough to reach out for an exit,
just the blind mistake of opening up a trapdoor,
like an alleyway where you live in fear of each corner you turn into,
and falling into the arms of laughing silhouettes of embodied tears,
whispering lies of how you'll be safe with them,
dimming the light and muting all sounds until
only your thoughts can keep you company,
burning static and fuzzy against your aching brain,
and handing you the long list of reasons
why a smile shouldn't be on your face.
so teacher, may i laugh again at the suggestion,
and shake my head in disagreement,
because believe me,
i do not want to live through that
again.

I tiptoe around the world
like I'm afraid to wake it up,
to draw attention to the clicks
my shoes make

Silence does pervade
while I sit idle on the sidelines,
never close to the centre,
here it is safe

In the background I fade,
observant but cautious,
already weary of this life
and all its pains

But here is a new day;
flickering eyelids do perceive it;
as long as I'm here I'll muse
but not participate

I tiptoe around the world,
not only to leave it undisturbed,
but to keep my soul still full
with the smallest ray

i'm not sure how to not feel like i've forgotten how to breathe
when i think of how you're having fun without me,
and the lost time you could be spending with me
wasted on other people.
it's selfish jealousy that riddles me with a heavy chest,
teary eyes, and it's pathetic.
but i love you to the point it hurts,
to the conclusion that i don't want anyone else in your presence.
but for now i'll stare silently at my wall,
trying to pretend i don't know you,
and trying desperately not to flood myself with
mindless wanting.
i miss you.
and i'm trying not to hate you for my own selfish reasons.

I thought of you again last night.
Dooming myself to repeat the mistake
of revising the memory of a muted light,
our quickened breaths, our hearts on fire.
I visioned a fantasy of you last night,
where my house is empty and silent,
and the heat tells the truth of what I really want to do,
taste the lips that once belonged to me so violent.
I hated you again last night
for how you make me so vulnerable to miss
a body to hold next to me in bed
the countless times you gave me bliss.
The times when the aching of my heart only meant
I had too much love to share,
and not the selfish need of wanting to feed,
to lust and touch and cast away cares.
I thought of how late in the night
our new year's day dance is not all I want back,
I want the comfort of your smile as you so confidently say
you love me like you did on a now distant day.
But I thought of you again last night
in the only way I know how to,
shedding the meaning of my lonely pain
for a momentary passionate touch of you.
I thought of you again last night
and promised myself this time was the last,
for I cannot spend the night longing for a kiss
I know I will never get back.

would it help with explaining
how life has closed in all the ***** of its metal box
around me?

it's a
pair of headphones with only one working side,
the last needed puzzle piece that is missing,
and no matching pair of socks.

it's a
string too short to tie a perfect bow with,
not enough water to fill the whole of the glass
and hidden holes in a blanket to keep you cold.

so does that help explaining how life throws
its ten pound shadow
over me?