Nostalgic Melancholy

Trying to unimagine what the end of all this will be. Trying to forget what I thought this would feel like. Trying to accept the now. All that’s left inside me is melancholy. As long as I wrap it in nostalgia, it’s not so bad. Looking back is easy. You see what you want to see and it will always be true. You see what you want to see and break of parts of you. Looking back I see light. Looking back is see darkness. I focus on what makes this moment easier. I focus on what makes looking back harder. I focus on not focusing on the past. This is why I prepackage all my nostalgia in melancholy. It keeps me mindful of the bitter taste of home sweet home. Going back is too easy because I know what I’m going back to. Going back too hard because I know what I’m going back to. I could go full circle and see what the world has for me. Be it love and light; Be it sorrow and death. I could go back and let the four walls that protect me, crash me. Nostalgia presented by melancholy makes this an easy choice.

Living vs. Loving

Crystal eyes
Gaze into each other.
Looking into new universe.
They see a heart
They see hurt
They see walls
Where it’s all fallen
Where emotions lie.
Feelings never lie.
Both hearts hold this;
All hearts know this.
Imagine love without it
Consider life without love.
They were living
Not loving
Loving felt like dying
They were too weak to let go
Too weak to fall again
Love had fallen upon them
Pain didn’t let them feel it.
They saw it
Neither was brave enough
To admit it
To confess
To break walls.
They can only hold on
Long enough
To choose between
Living and Hurting
Or Loving and Crashing

How I Feel About Mondays

I’ve never really liked Mondays. Something about them was always just wrapped in lies. On Sunday I was forgiven for Saturdays sins and Fridays tribulations. Thursday was filled with nothing but pain because on Wednesday I did nothing but hurt. Tuesday had a sinking feeling that transitioned me into the weeks reality and faded me out of Mondays numbness. I must confess, I don’t really hate Mondays; I just hate the lies. They always promised me it was over but Tuesday swore it was not. You close your eyes and pray that the gods would have mercy and let you skip a few days but it’s already Wednesday morning and now I am too far in to begin seeking salivation. Days pass with a hurricane sensation. They destroy everything that once was and never leave a sign of what will be. It doesn’t matter what I feel about Mondays, because it’s already Sunday night.

Rainy Day Lovers

Rainy days and warm hearts collide to create  last night’s memories. Chills race through lovers spines freezing time enough for walls to crumble. Silence rages to the rhythm of heartbeats. That’s not how it happened, but it is how they remember it. They’ll swear that moon shone just for them in the center of a clear sky as the stars declared the true essence of their love to throughout the heavens. That’s not how it happened, but it is how they’ll always remember it. They were never the type to kiss in the rain because they found it hard to combine love and pain. The city began to flood but neither of them could feel it. This was the worst night for love but the best night for lovers. Both could see it but neither wanted to reveal it. The rains would begin to subside and the floods would flow away. They’d both open their eyes and realize they were both alone. They’d both wish they had never left. They’d both wish they’d made the other stay. As the sun rises on a new day, they’d both know it was far too late.

Poverty in Poetry

Poverty in poetry.
My poor mind. My poor heart.
Spilling bloody ink on paper.
Poems are merely songs with no music.
Imagine that;
Even after all these years
Beating and beating

The rhythm of my heart
Can’t make music.

Soulless sounds.
Solo and sound.

Poverty in poetry.
My poor prayers. My poor dreams.
I cashed them in
For peace.
Sent them away
Into the universe
So I can get some sleep.
Dreamer child awaken!
All dreams are valid.
Dreamer child wake up!

Poverty in poetry.
My poor self. My poor lover.
Imagine the beauty
After the war;
The stars
Once the clouds clear.
Smoke is settling.
At last, clarity.

Poverty in poetry.
My poor friend. Poor me.
I wrote everything I’m worth.
I write what I have.
This is all I have
A writing hand
An unwritten mind
Read it in and out of love.
Read it and remember.
Sing it and deliver.

Walls and Distance

Take a breath.
Soak in the distance.
Time runs out
Flames burn out.

Disguise the walls.
Paint them a new colour.

Bound by forgiveness.
United by history.
Bound but not together
The new taste of forever

Build the walls higher
Build them stronger.

Imagine me forgiving you.
Remember me hating you.
Let the bitterness fade.
Brighten the love.

Adore the walls
This time they won’t crash

Watch the new turn old
Old has always been gold.
But somehow,
The new always outshines the old.

Seek freedom
Leave these walls behind

Let’s untie our unity.
Break our bond
Everything can fade to nothing.
That should mean something.

Together we built the walls.
You burnt all the bridges.

A Bitter Sweet Contemplation

You wonder about the flavour of her cherry lips. You think about the taste of her cinnamon skin. You know looks can be deceiving but the truth also hurt. You had heard every painful truth, so you were ready to be lied to tonight. Step into her danger zone and imagine what it feels like. She’s dessert after a full course of heart break. She’s the guilty pleasure wrapped in innocence. She’s a cavity waiting to happen but you already own dentures. Tonight, all that stands between you, her and everything you could be together, is all of last night’s pain. You don’t want to feel this tomorrow. You don’t need the same scars in the morning. So you’re being a pill but she’s the trip. Her level is the journey you’re too scared to take. Even history can you dictate which way this going to go. Maybe that’s why you keep getting lost in her eyes. Fuck it! You close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Let the butterflies melt away as you get heated up to go claim what’s yours. You open your eyes and she’s gone.

Unearthing Self

I levitated in and out of your mind. I hang in the air. Breathlessly. I never touched your walls, so I could never leave my mark. I remained in that limbo until gravity kicked in and I’d drop out of your mind like velvet. I’d pray you’d lose yourself again; long enough to have me back. I lay there like a disgraced rose. My colours never faded but I did. It was like the season passed through me instead of me through them. You were the only looking-glass that allowed me to see myself as beautiful. That’s why I let my gazes linger. I wanted to pierce the image into myself deep enough that I would no longer need you. Need you to feel validated or worthy. Need you to feel beautiful. Need you to feel. I would be free from your chambers.I’d learn to love gravity and kiss the earth. My hands would spread across the earth and my fingers would dig deep and I would sink into it as I fall into myself.

Like It Matters

I still think about you,
Like it matters.
I talk about you
Like you are still a part of my life.
Like I’m going to see you tomorrow
And nothing ever changed.
Our memories,
Now seem irrelevant.
I’m the only one holding on to them.

I tell people I miss you
Like you’d give a fuck.
I reminisce on a time
When it might have mattered.
About how the days we spent together
All more than a dream.
They were a reality of a better me.

Damn, I’m careless.
That doesn’t mean I’ll ever care less.
You don’t care at all;
And I wish it hurt less.
I don’t blame you for leaving.
I’m also not sorry that I let you go.
Yes, I’m still crying.
If I said I didn’t want you back
I’d lying.
My insides are slipping out
And I’m all choked up.

I only miss you when it’s dark
It reminds me of your heart.
Stars remind me of your eyes,
With their piercing essence.
Loneliness reminds me of our bond.
The only person I need to forgive,
Is me
I don’t deserve to feel this way.
I’m writing about you
Like it matters.

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