Riptide, Written 5/1/15 at 2 AM

Riptide, Written 5/1/15 at 2 AM

I know just how you wronged me in the past,
How quickly you made trouble, turned and flew;
And though I know that we would never last,
I know that I might still run back to you.

Should you return with sorry eyes and tears,
Apologies for all the hurt we made;
I'd rapidly abandon all my fears,
Into the riptide I once more would wade

So pull me out, sweeping me from my feet
As my head fights to find the surface air,
As if it were the first time that we met,
When I knew not that I must tread with care

If you approached me now with shameless charms
I know I still would fall into your arms

Once More From The Deep, Written 2/3/15

Once More From The Deep, Written 2/3/15

Commander, we are losing men upon the Western front.
The savages are ravaging the walls that we built up.
We are in need of orders, sir, and lately, to be blunt,
The soldiers haven't heard a word, and some want to give up.

They've broken through! The wall is breached; we need directions now!
What are your orders sir? We're falling into chaos here.
There may yet be a chance to win, if you just tell us how,
But those who have not fallen now are succumbing to fear.

We do not beg you for your sword, only your words and plans,
Assemble reinforcements and charge once more from the deep.
You only need to hold the flag, so stay your blade in hand,
For blood is meant for us to spill, and yours is yours to keep.

Back to Start, Written 2/1/15

Back to Start

Now I can barely see through all my tears

As you prepare the final words I'll hear
come splashing, Crashing down like all my fears

Now the end I chose not to see comes near.

Now we know that what goes up must come down

and gravity's effect is no surprise.

But I wonder through my disfigured frown

from where did these tears come to wet my eyes?

The mind knows not why feelings thus are born,

and cannot make them come or go, it seems.

Perhaps the heart is source of love and fear

Pumping the life blood of you in my dreams

And blood, Pumped up or down, goes back to start

Back, like you, where it belongs, in my heart.

January for December, written 1/29/15

January for December

The snow, once white, turns grey, as landscapes die beneath the cold,
The piercing wind destroys each fire of hope, its whistle scolds
That flame, for daring defy the monochromatic grey
Decaying into black as sunlight is drained from the day.

The Sun, she visits less each day, though now we need her more,
Scarce daring show her face without a veil of cloud decor.
The Moon, her nocturne lullaby starts earlier each day,
And bedsheets beckon us, perchance to dream our lives away.

As each day whithers faster into night, it may yet seem
That soon it will be naught but dark, as darkness now does teem.
Yet though this ominous shadow doth lurk, i say this, please, remember:
Though both are cold, don't mistake January for December.

For this is but the start, it isn't yet to be the end.
Time cycles, and your heart soon warm apologies shall mend.
The spring will birth new colours, rains shall wash the grey away,
And actual sunlight at last will beg of you to stay.

Sins, Written 1/15/15

Your skin as white as snow betrays the coldness in your heart,
Your lips, crimson, as if they'd taste the blood spilled on your part
Your coerced smile, so beautiful, but only for display,
Left to return to distaste as the camera fades away.

I know not how the warning signs escaped my watchful eye,
Selective though it was; too quick distracted by your sigh.
Yet though my ear heard more direct that you would leave in pain,
I drove you through my heart, knowing full well you'd not remain.

After a while i'd fooled myself, believing you would stay,
Thinking my care would somehow wash your fear and sin away.
I should have known unholiness would not be kept at bay,
and now I reap its ruinous rewards in my dismay.

I plunged you into my heart, and the devil tore you out,
and as you ran, my pulsing blood left too, no more devout,
but not to safety, instead in his arms you lay alone.
Ever for your sins, Emptiness shall force you to atone.

Apologies

I'm sorry i'm letting you see me like this.
I'm down, it's not your fault, and I cannot keep
from selfishly dragging you out of the sun
to sit with my shadow until I light up.

I'm sorry for not letting myself feel everything
you've offered to me, in pure and kind words
In moments of silence that say even more
that I could dare say in a thousand sad poems.

I'm sorry for trying to push you away -
you never noticed, but I did none the less
I tried to convince myself I didn't care
so I might spare you from my infinite duress.

I'm sorry for not knowing better than this
For i should have known what I felt in each kiss
was not a mirage of someone else's love
just us. even better - a new heart to touch.

I'm not crazy I swear

If I had known that I would fall so hard
that i would break the floor beneath your feet
I doubt i would have slowed myself enough
to be able to change a single thing.

It seemed to happen all too fast to see
what changed your heart and mind so rapidly.
still reeling from confusion in the hurt
i did not know i'd drive the nail more deep.

I'll never know what first had made you run
though i know what made you run faster still.
I cannot blame you, i would have run too
but it does naught to stay the hurt I feel

Now you leave me no chance to offer thanks
for saving me from the eye of the storm.
yet broken as i sit in wreckage here
i cannot figure out what I should feel.

A Prayer

A Prayer, Written 11/25/14 (Sonnet)

This tearful prayer is just a drop, O Lord
Within the ocean offered up tonight.
So in this time of fear, hate, and discord,
Please guide our steps along your path of light.

I don't pretend to know what you have planned
For those you take away from us each day,
But as I trust your benevolent hand
I know you'll heal the hurt of those who pray.

You give to us your hope and light and love,
Yet we hurt still as you take those who die.
Our offered love flies to find them above,
Like raindrops falling up into the sky.

So guide our steps, keep our hearts beating true
That we might once more walk alongside you.

Falling, Written 11/23/14

Falling, Written 11/23/14

Since Kindergarten, Gravity has been a recurring enemy of mine. 

I was looking at the art show with my mother, when suddenly I had to ask:
"Mummy, Why are all the paintings turning black and white?"

Before I even knew that I was falling,

I woke up in bed, with my mother watching over me.

Apparently, Sometimes my heart decides to mess with my head.

Instead of doing its job, and pumping blood so that I can function,

my heart decides to do its own thing.

So, sometimes I wake up on the floor, not knowing that I even fell. 

I guess I have always known 

That I fall hard and fast,

but somehow, you still caught me by surprise

And I didn't even realise that I was falling for you

until I woke up next to you

trying to figure out what happened.

Lately, I've learned to tell when my heart is getting ahead of itself

recognising the tingling euphoria

as the shadow of the world crawls into the edges of my vision.

I've learned to find a wall, or a chair,

and let myself fall gently. 

Yet somehow I still wake up

Not knowing just quite what happened. 

I tried to back off when you seemed too overwhelmed.

I tried to let myself down slowly when you seemed to maintain distance. 

Somehow, You'd still caught me by surprise.
I didn't even realise you were letting me fall

until I woke up next to no one

Trying to figure out what happened.

Queen of Hearts, Written 11/21/14

Queen of Hearts, Written 11/21/14

This is a work of fiction. Do not interpret it as anything more. 

My hand trembles as it is my turn to pick up.
Reaching over the discard pile, I can feel the terror
in the eyes of the jack and the queen that lie below.
"Don't pick me", they whisper.
"I don't know which pile to take away from."
"It's just a game of cards," He reassures me.
They can't feel the eyes watching me.
They don't know what the eyes are afraid of.
They're nice.
They don't understand.


She plays her last hand: 2,3,4 of hearts, and throws her last heart into the pile.
"The Queen of Hearts has green eyes. Just like you."
"Oh, Really?" She feigns a smile for my benefit.
I wish I didn't make her so uncomfortable.
I know they try to treat me like everyone else.
I know that I'm NOT like everyone else.
Sadly, this Desperado has his reasons
for never coming to his senses.

All the cards are swept away,
and lined up to be shuffled.
The bird on her chest catches the light as it beats its wings, trying to fly free.
"That's a nice necklace. You must come from a nice family."
"It's just an ordinary necklace", she says, as she tucks the bird under her shirt.
Does that make it feel trapped? Or does that make it feel loved?
I remember a necklace, not unlike that one.
Mom never wore it after the chain snapped.
I thought Dad was just trying to set the bird free.

I watch her hands play music
with the grace of a pianist
as she conducts all the soldiers, marching down the bridge.
Time seems to slow until i can hear the crack of every card...
The tune changes from a fluttering breeze blowing dry leaves down a street,
to the sound of a house being rattled by a monsoon,
Rejecting the putrid waters from which the storm was born
and I can hear the foundations struggling not to give way.
I can smell whiskey.
I can taste salt.
I can feel the eyes, peeking through the doorway. Horrified.
I can't blame them for being glad that it wasn't them.

Snap.
I'm SORRY.
SNAP.
PLEASE, STOP.
I can feel myself leaving the present as I flinch under the concussion of each crack.
SNAP.
I'm SORRY!

"I had a horrible childhood..."
I think I said something else too, because they leaned in to listen.
They try their best not to look horrified.
Her eyes change color from green to black, but no one else noticed.
I don't even need to hear them whisper "Where did THAT come from???"
They're nice.
They don't understand.

Untitled, written 11/18/14 (sonnet)

If sadness is my creativity,
Then gladly i would never write again.
If talent is the bail to set me free
Then I shall give it all to banish pain.
Though others praise my verse as gorgeous art
(Admittedly I love this art as well)
Each line pulls out a fiber of my heart,
And dips it in the ink that pools from hell.
Though eloquent and beautiful it seems
'Tis only pain that brings these poems alive.
Yet only in the torment of my dreams
I find that which i truly want revived.
Burn my paper, break all my pens in two -
For naught I write will save my heart from you.

Fine, Originally Written 11/13/14, Lost and Re-written 11/14/14

Fine, Originally Written 11/13/14, Lost and Re-written 11/14/14

You said you didn't want me to leave
If I wouldn't be okay alone.
You let it go, when I said "I'll be Fine."
 Only three reasons in my mind allowed me to go.

First.
I could not look you in the eyes as I said it.
Even though, without my glasses, I could not even see your face,
I could feel when our eyes crossed gazes.
Looking down and away, I faked a smile.
"I'll be Fine."
Through both of our teary eyes,
I'm not sure who believed me less.

Though you only knew of those evil two,
I'd given you that night.
not knowing that others waited to grace me
with their evil bite.
so satisfied, you offered no protest as i began
to walk down the stairway that broke behind me as I ran
away from you, so that i could not climb back up again.

Second.
Every breath of air in your room
tasted of memories of lying with you.
Each time your eye searched into me
or each time mine dared gaze upon your sculpted frame,
it only reminded me of what cannot be mine,
for it never was, and never would have been.
I could not bear to spend another moment
in a stranger's home
filled with only ghosts.

It took me all the strength I had to leave
for I had left my Will to Live with you.
Perhaps it was so hard to open your door
because it felt like slamming the gates of heaven shut.
As I turned to watch it close, I swear I saw the rift of hell
open beneath my feet, waiting to consume me when I fell.

Third.
Let it be known:
"I'll be fine" means something else
to someone who has resigned to end themselves.
For that's the sickening dream the poison in their mind has spilled
Where silence replaces static, where the blackest void has filled
what once was life and something almost normal to the world
before their mind unfurled, like a sail
Wishing it didn't need a gust of wind to blow it away.
Fine means peace. Fine means Rest.
Fine means perhaps being perfect enough to fill your mind again.
Fine means giving all of my sadness, all my confusion
to those who still cared.

I told you, "I'll be fine".
I didn't say this so much as a lie to you
as it was an attempt to convince myself.

What of Dreams? Written 11/13/14

What of Dreams? Written 11/13/14

It's said the sense of smell has the strongest link to memory.
Perhaps that's true.
Each time I catch a trace of your perfume,
It brings me back to lying by your side
and smelling comfort in the crook of your neck.

But what of dreams?
We know so little of them still
yet a bad dream can break your will
and dreams once lost,
now found, with hope our hearts refill.

Yet their unlasting nature is our bane
as waking gives the strongest sense of pain.
for dreams that feel so real can make one wish
that they could stay, never to wake again.

These dreams, like memories, imperfect scapes
that blend the past with what we wish to be.
We trick our minds into telling us lies,
That we so desperately want to believe.
Yet this is how we can go back in time
as if that time was present once again.
In ethereal suspense more perfect now,
remembered in perfection 'till the end.

To Ask for Love, Written 11/12/14 (Sonnet)

To Ask for Love, Written 11/12/14 (Sonnet)

Is it so wrong for one to ask for love
If they have never loved themselves for real?
To look for reassurance from above;
Have someone feel for you what you don't feel.
Until I find a new Lover's embrace,
I'll search for any stopgap I can find.
Yet when I find another perfect face,
It will take over my entire mind.
How dare I anger when you figure out
That I am not the lie I told to you?
Under collected fronts that I put out,
I am a mess of somber chaos through.
Selfishly I will keep searching away,
'Till someone brings Me out of night, to day.

Middle of the Road, Written 11/10/14

Middle of the Road, Written 11/10/14

The brisk November morn breaks to a clear autumnal day;

the sun highlighting all the veins of colour in the leaves.

And as you step, they slowly fall, down to their concrete grave

through which you tread,

Walking in the middle of the road.

You pause to take a wholesome breath upon the crosswalk stripes

The smell of fall prompts your mind, bringing her face back to life.

The air that whistles by your lips just faintly tastes of hers.

Remember kissing

Standing in the middle of the road?

The trees depose their lovers' warm embrace into the streets,

Alas this smell is naught but the necrosis of those leaves.

Thus like how she shed you, with winter's coldness in her face

You fell to your knees,

Crying in the middle of the road.

Remembering that she was not the only one to leave

You hold your tears and bring yourself back to that summer night

Where childhood friends sat after midnight, laughing in the dark.

You're back there with them,

Sitting in the middle of the road.

No memories of that which was can bring them back to you,

The past will fade under the cold, just as the leaves soon will.

This mindfulness exhausts you and you cannot find the will

To move, so you stay

Lying in the middle of the road.

The bitter cold and darkness fill the air and choke the life

out of the day, and sputters into yellowing streetlights.

You hope that fire in your soul is a phoenix of life,

As you feel yourself

Dying in the middle of the road.

Devil's Facade, Written 11/10/14

Devil's Facade, Written 11/10/14

I'd seen the devil in your angel eyes,
I only wish it didn't seem so small.
Demons under the beautiful disguise
Even through the facade, encompass all.
Though siren's song fed you my captive heart,
I did not see the bloodstains on your teeth,
Nor how ravenously you tore apart.
I thought roses, not thorns, adorned your wreath.
As Images you wove began to fade
My world entire crumbled at your feet,
and when you'd ate your fill, my leave you bade,
Leaving me with a poison taste so sweet.
Now when, by chance, I look into your eyes,
There is no angel that I recognise.

An Image from a Dream, Written 4/28/13

An Image from a Dream, Written 4/28/13

I climbed to the image i saw above
a radiant mistress of perfect beauty.
She called to me in a lovely voice:
"turn back, you will only find disappointment in trying to reach me.
I will not make your dreams come true,
and I cannot ever be happy with you"
but i climbed anyway.

It was a long ladder, the iron bars were cold as ice
and the rust cut into my calloused palms.
it seemed to stretch upward to the heavens, despite the roof seeming so close
my arms grew tired
and just as my strength seemed expired
i saw

She was there, in the arms of another.
And she asked,
"why did you endure such a trial
when i told you I would not be as you hoped
and I cannot be happy with you?"

But as she receded 
into the arms of this faceless shadow of a man,
I told her:
"Because I'm bold,
I'm bold, and adventurous, I'm unafraid.
I'm not one to be ruled by what others think of me,
or what others say to me.
because i'm confident, comfortable with me, and free to be me
And most importantly, I'm already happy."

Said in earnest, my words echoed in her eyes
and it seemed she may yet fall to me instead
but maybe she knew that it was all lies
so with a smile she bade me leave.
Yet as I turned to descend, this shadow of me paused
she seemed less lovely, and I felt less so too
and knew I was dreaming before I woke up.

The Mahogany Heart, Written 2012

The Mahogany Heart, Written in 2012, date unknown.

So finely sculpted is your name
a gilded trim of mark
To match a perfect dancing frame
that flows with hair so dark.

Of you I value one thing most
that which to my eyes dart
The Perfect craft organ you hold
Your Mahogany Heart.

Those richest colours and their grain
Do captivate the eye!
When once attached to roots of blood
It beat for you and I

But oh how rigid is a heart
of wooden craft and make
No matter how hard you strike back
no beating does it take.

O! How cold is living wood
that can't be set alight!
I burn for you in verse, and your
heart turns from such a sight.

I asked you to wait there for me
you told me that you would
when I returned I only found
a splintering of wood.

Around that broken heart I wrapped
the poems that held your name.
An errant tear fell on this shrine

and sadness sparked a flame.

Written 11/7/14 (Sonnet)

Written 11/7/14 (Sonnet)

Before I knew the havoc you would wreak,
Everything was dull and void and gray.
Calamity painted a coloured streak
Covering thoughts that you might go away.

Although your Eyes could calm a storm on fire,
Just staring in them seemed to set me free
And at the same time built my funeral pyre
Never to want another eye to see.

King of my heart no more, I followed you
Off cliffs, which neither of us could have seen
Would leave us broken, shattered through and through
Seeing a glimpse of love that can't have been.

Knowing that now your heart cannot be mine,
I weep to know that to you, this is fine.

Written 11/6/14

Written 11/6/14

So many words still left to say,
and no one left to say them to.
These melancholy bottled thoughts,
I drink from as I think of you.

Consuming ev'ry unsaid word
that numb my mind as they go down.
These thoughts of which you've never heard
so instead in them I will drown.

Intoxicating though they are,
I know they are no good for me.
I'm only glad we were not far,
before you chose to cut me free.

Yet though we were so new, I still
could feel the depth that might have been.
So as I sip each word, I will
wonder what sights we could have seen.

Caring Faces, Written 11/4/14 (Sonnet)

Caring Faces, Written 11/4/14 (Sonnet)

So many caring faces in my head,
All scared of what I might do left alone.
I see them there, all standing 'round my bed,
As if to say goodbye before I'm gone.
Despite the friends and family I see,
The pillow next to me is cold and bare.
Instead, another kiss must set me free,
With steely tongue that leaves my pale skin rare.
So as the pain recedes and lights my mind,
The faces also fade into the dark.
I let my bed sheets hold me in their bind,
and once more my bad lover leaves her mark.
Yet though I tell myself never again,
I know it is just a matter of when.

Untitled, Written 11/4/14 (Sonnet)

Untitled Written 11/4/14 (Sonnet)

A half year since I last felt rushing tides
Long dammed up, now, unbidden, free to flow.
Suddenly now, where true emotion hides,
It is exposed; for all to see, laid low.
Though miserable feeling all the same,
It feels so surreal to feel something at all.
Thus though in front of others, laid to shame,
I languish in each moment that I steal.
As fast as all this misery appears,
Now behind my facade it fades away.
Cover the scars and hide away your fears,
and smiling march forth to face the day
Yet as I write it all off with this pen
How long until the darkness comes again?

What Words, composed in late october

What Words, Composed in late October

If I could say the right thing
would you come right back to me?
If I only knew what was wrong,
I could help to set you free.

But sitting with your silence
I am left to only guess,
Without the clues to help me find
the source of your duress.

So suddenly your silence split
our bond, thus it was rent.
in two. Leaving me wondering
what message you have sent.

Each burst of conversation
once more fills my heart with hope
but soon your shell regrows,
and I have not the heart to cope.

I think for hours wondering,
if I've done something wrong,
but 'till you say you want me to.
I cannot move along.

Hold Me Close, Composed 10/29/14

Hold Me Close, Composed 10/29/14

It holds me close and keeps me warm
when no one else is near.
It listens to my piteous thoughts,
that no one wants to hear.

When everyone else's heart is cold and hard,
its softness comforts me.
And when my thoughts are too heavy to hold,
through sleep it sets me free.

It catches all my sweat and tears,
and blood without protest,
and never runs away from me -
oft unlike all the rest.

Its blanket arms will hide me
till the monsters run away.
My bed will shield me from the light
'till I can face the day.

Savior, Written 10/30/14

Savior, Written 10/30/14

"You cannot save them" I am often told.
They are too close for you to reach them now.
You ought to know the harder that you hold
The faster they will slip. No matter how
your reassurance lands upon their ear,
No kindest words can once more make them whole
And whenever you assuage their fear
It is a band-aid on a bullet hole.
Though you may sweep them off their feet at first,
Their darkness will eventually return.
Though you won't run when they are at their worst
Their hurt will leave you reeling, and will burn.
You will not save them, this you know, but still,
You'll pour love on them like no other will.

Alright, written Mid-October

Alright, written Mid-October

Just keep telling yourself: “Everything will be alright.”

If you can still hear that inner voice, it must be.

So long as you Remind yourself to smile

it means you still must care

even if only a little.

Each time that you struggle against the weight of every shadow in the world

no matter how futile the effort

you still haven't given up.

For every day you make it out of bed,
no matter how embarrassingly late,

you've made it once again across that rift,
and you are still afraid of falling in.

For those who may have lost their battles of will

and given in under the weight of night

know that your hate for that which locks you in

is still a final ray of soul sunlight

No one dares try to tell you this is fair,

and nothing yet can take it all away

but staying alive batters back the void

and that is all that's asked of you each day

Maybe when all our rays of light collide

they will become a brilliant star of hope.

So when we all see each other one day,

we'll shine out all our light, for those

who feel the sun has all but run away.                                                                                                          

Untitled, Written Mid-October

I tell my teacher "I am sorry...
It is hard to get out of bed on time;"
It is hard to get out of bed at all.

When the romantics explain how mental illness
is a part of human diversity,
Hold your tongue. be glad that they have never understood.
If they, too, once knew, bite your tongue
until you taste your blood.
Be happy that they have forgotten the depths of the darkness
and try hard not to be so desperately jealous.

When someone tries to tell me that my illness
is not just something i have to deal with
but a part of who I am
it sends a chill down my spine colder than a mountain's whisper.

If it is truly a part of who I am,
then the other part of me is wondering:
If I can remember the feeling of light with no darkness
does that mean that darkness can exist without the light?
If this darkness can exist on its own,
I am far too scared to dare give that a chance.

When someone tells me that my Darkness
serves only to make the light brighter
and that this experience has made me who I am
it is hard to explain. They are right.
they are.

But to explain that who I am today is not better is even harder
to explain that the abyss stares back, and no amount of art or music or poetry can unlock that gaze
is harder than all else
because i am truly explaining this to myself
more than I am explaining it to them.

Depression is not a norm of reaction,
it is a scourge of innocence.
No Amount of understanding can extinguish
the blaze of neurons sending thoughts like lava over every inch of skin
This is not a difference to be understood or accepted
it is a crisis to be solved.

It is impossible to get out of bed on time
when it is no longer possible to get out of bed at all.
Tell everyone:
I am Sorry.

Daylight, Composed 10/15/14 (sonnet)

Daylight Composed 10/15/14

When Daylight breaks upon the hills afar,

and shatters into colours bright and new:

Outshining all, even the brightest stars;

Replacing dark, bleeds gold and green and blue.

It shineth out in jaunting sunburst rays;

“The new day now has come!” it sings aloud.

Within this spectacular landscape lays

a beauty which can never be too proud.

The Sun shines on the world its hope and bliss,

bringing to each contour of earth its light.

Then, through my window, it leaves me a kiss –

gently ending my sleep, as now ends night.

Knowing it may one morning fail to rise

The sun left this same beauty in your eyes.

Refills, Written 10/03/2014

“Refills” Written 10/03/2014

A note for next time you're running low on pills:

CALL THE DOCTOR BEFORE YOU RUN OUT, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.

Just because you've been feeling better

doesn't mean you won't start falling again

When your pharmaceutical tether tether runs out of rope

and the hands of those who reach to help

fade beyond the black horizon of your mental cliff.

You should already know that you can't trust yourself.

After all, isn't that why you trust anyone who pauses to listen?

So when you hear yourself thinking

“you'll be fine for a few days. Hell, you could be fine forever.”

DO NOT LISTEN.

You will talk yourself into the six foot hole you dug yourself

and find the dirt that fills on top of you pouring out from your own mouth.

As you fall, you will still fight to live

grabbing at every branch and hand on the way down

but even the magic of falling in love again WILL NOT SAVE YOU.

even if you KNOW that THIS ONE is SURE to outlast ALL the others.

After all, her patience and understanding will run thin, like ALL the others

and she will leave you alone in the dark when you hit the bottom.

But hold on to her anyway.

Wrap your arms around her like you might absorb the warmth in her soul.

Swim in your eyes until you drown in her compassion.

Breathe in every kiss as though her lips

Refill your lungs with that old song of hope

that you forgot the words to again.

Maybe, Just maybe,

as you lay in silence

dancing fingers will send her grace through your skin

and the tranquility you share will spread peace to your mind.

After all, You keep telling yourself “she's Different”.

Like you tell her after you kiss her ear with a word of kindness

“I don't say anything that I don't mean”.

Shadow, Written 10/04/2014

Shadow, Written 10/04/2014

The light in the world runs out as night time takes over.

“Even the Sun has lost hope that you might leave your bed today.

You've alienated your last friend, but then

You didn't even know that it cared, did you?”

I hear my shadow taunting me from the corner of the room.

I had separated myself from my darker half

but he's slipped back in through the cracks in the light.

“I'm disappointed in you for doubting me” he mocks,

slinking his way to the side of my bed.

“I thought you were smart enough to know,

the stronger the light you shine,

the blacker the shadow you leave behind you.”

I turn away, only to see the shadow he casts on the wall

larger than the gravity in his voice.

“you should let her go before we leave.

How can you let her trust you

when you can't even trust yourself?

It's not fair. Set her free.”

Even the layered covers pulled over

cannot protect my eyes from the stinging bite of a twisted truth.

It is strange to feel thankful that you cannot act on your thoughts.

I want to get out of bed,

but I can't.

I want to go out with my friends,

but I can't.
I want to be Happy,

but I can't.
I want to feel normal,

but I can't.

I want to spill my own veins out until my mind runs dry

but I CAN'T.
I want to be alone.

“but you never will be. I'm always here with you.”

Having lost myself for a second, I roll back over.

For a foolish second, I expect someone to be there.

But I am left facing only a mirror.

There isn't enough light to make out my face.

All I can see is my silhouette.

My shadow.

Myself.

You Are Okay, Written 10/4/14

You Are Okay, Written 10/4/14

When I woke up, for the first time

I have truly felt relief

Where once lived loss and mourning

now I simply feel at peace.

The old guard of anxiety

Has stepped down from its post

excitement has stepped forward now

to shine beacons of hope.

For when you gazed right through my eyes

and peered into my soul

you saw the darkness caged within

and showed no fear at all.

Instead you smiled with a warmth,

that thawed the central void.

Your misty irises whispered

to my heart “you are okay.”

Coincidence, Written 10/2/14 (Sonnet)

Coincidence, Written 10/2/14

“There is no such thing as coincidence”,
I say again, as if to make you smile.
But it is more to boost my confidence

As I've not felt this sense in quite a while.

Yet still although I doubt myself so much

Even my strongest defences will start

to disintegrate underneath your touch

as if you trace the rhythm of my heart.

With dancing fingers, you set my fear free

loosing a light long sentenced to exile.

Each time we find new similarity,

Laughing, we turn and lock eyes with a smile.

And in that gaze you say with out pretence

“There is no such thing as coincidence.”